My Granny, My dog, and My Big, Fat, Texas Hair.

I'm in Texas.

Boy howdy, am I ever in Texas.

Yesterday afternoon it rained, and as I looked out the window I saw steam literally rising from the street. Which I realize is not necessarily something to blog about, but it was a really personal moment between me and my hair. It screamed "Don't take me out there! Whatever you do!Don't take me out there!" And so I didn't. I kept my big, fat, Texas hair, firmly inside the air conditioned house.

We held each other for a moment...it was precious.

Some things have happened since arriving in Texas. Let's discuss them, shall we?

Last Christmas my mom bought my dad a Golden Retriever. This gift was thought about forever, prayed about forever, and saved up for forever. My dad's best dog, Judge, died after 15 years and so buying him another one came with much thought. But on Christmas morning my dad opened up Truman. And let me tell ya, things have never been the same since.

Truman is bad.

Truman is hyper.

Truman is adorable.

Truman is all puppy.

And now Truman is missing.

Missing for a whole week now and my dad is heartbroken. We have searched high and low, driven down every back road and gone up and knocked on every door that appears to have been apprehended from right off the set of "Deliverance" - and still, no Truman.

But that is what happens when your dog is young, and virile, and he longs to move from boyhood to manhood. (You catchin' what I'm layin' down?) Truman was...let's just say, a LOVER not a fighter. And we think he ran away...to, well, fall in love, let's just say...aaannnnnndddd I shall stop now.

And Remi? She's devastated. Because now when the trash can is found pulled over on the kitchen floor we don't beat the dog. So her feelings are, we have to find him - AND FAST!

Here we are out looking for him the other day, to no avail.



I think this video goes to show that at the end of the day, no matter how devastated you are about your Poppie's dog, a girl eventually just needs a moment away from the cameras. It's a hard life.

Also on our list of things to do in Texas? Celebrate my Granny's birthday at Cotton Patch. That's right, I said, Cotton Patch. Doesn't that just sound sophisticated? Oh, yes indeedy, it was.

I feasted on FRIED catfish. And FRIED okra. And french FRIES. (I should be dead by now. Obviously, God has more work for me to do. I digress...)

All 20 of us sat around a table and watched my Granny open her birthday presents. This is the moment during the party where she opens up a box, BUT DOES NOT PULL THE GIFT OUT OF THE BOX, and then proceeds to say, "It will never fit me."

I kid you not. I bought her a top (light blue, no pattern, no design, 100% cotton, must go with blue stretch pants and white tennis shoes, thank you) and she did not even remove it from it's folded position and yet said, "This'll be too small."

But who cares, I was with The Fam. And happy to be there, I might add. And I believe underneath their gruff exterior they love having me home, too. Even though when they asked how long I'm in for and I said "a couple weeks," they all moaned and said things like "Dear Lord" and "what in the world for?" But I felt the love. I truly did.

And besides, they can gripe all they want...their day on this here blog is comin' up.

Oh, you can bet it is.