Remember the Alamo...Bowl

This week I road-tripped it to San Antonio. I know the I-10 route well but this time I was headed to the Alamo City for fun with my family in tow. Or rather, I was in tow. I somehow got out of driving the three hour trip and instead sat in the backseat of a car remarkably similar to mine.

There are definite bonuses to being a backseat passenger and sharing the road with friends.

For example, impromptu dancing and singing often erupts.

And World Geography knowledge can be tested with the Houston Chronicle's 50 Question Geography Quiz. (No, I've never heard of Nollywood and do not know what US city is "too busy to hate." Anyone?)

Stopping at Buc-ee's is also a different experience as the normal quick in-and-out trip turns into a twenty minute shopping tour complete with a plan to divide and conquer Icees and Beaver Nuggets before reuniting at the car.


In truth, no Beaver Nuggets were bought or consumed, but they are quite a hit with the regulars.
See the link above for more details.

Upon arriving in San Antonio, we check into our hotel located within walking distance of the River Walk - one of my favorite places in Texas at Christmas time.

We stop at the first Mexican restaurant we find, The Original Mexican Restaurant. It was a cold night and as this restaurant did not provide ponchos for the patio (like another restaurant further down), we opted to eat inside.

More bonuses for traveling with family: live Mariachi serenades.

(The song was called Mariscos, which means seafood in Spanish...can't imagine singing such a pretty song about fish. Maybe someone can enlighten me?)

And someone with whom to try on the traditional Mexican garb.

Sharing a hotel room with new family members provided a special treat as I was awoke in the middle of the night to the shouts of a sleep-talking male.

In the morning, we headed straight to the Alamo. As a former Texas history teacher, I was excited to impart my knowledge to my newly transplanted brother-in-law. Like how Bonham Street (a street we had to cross as we walked from our hotel) was named after James Butler Bonham one of the couriers during the 13 day siege at the Alamo. And how the numbers next to the state flags displayed in the Alamo represented the number of men who died from that state in the battle. (The most famous death being that of Davy Crockett from Tennessee who was quoted as saying, "You may all go to hell and I will go to Texas.") I'm not sure my brother-in-law appreciated all the wealth of information I was dumping on him (as you might not),

but as a born and bred Texan - I just couldn't help myself. I was even more excited when I found the DVD version of the movie Gone to Texas in the Alamo gift shop. This is a highly factual depiction of the life of Sam Houston and other crucial events of the Texas Revolution. As a teacher, I had shown my students many clips from this movie. It also helps to explain why Sam Houston did not come to the aid of the Alamo. (He was busy forming a government and training an army that would later defeat the Mexican troops at the Battle of San Jacinto.)

After our Alamo tour and informational video, we headed to the River Walk for our boat cruise. On our ride we were reminded that San Antonio is named after St. Anthony - patron saint of lost things. Perhaps, if my brother had been Catholic, he would have been able to recover the cell phone that slipped out of his pocket and landed in the river four years earlier when he sat down to lunch. As of yet, no such luck.

From the river, you can also spot a glimpse of the San Fernando Cathedral from which the Mexican dictator Santa Anna had flown the red flag of no quarter (no surrender) during the Alamo siege.

As a side note, Santa Anna is often credited for introducing chicle, the base of chewing gum, to America.

Eventually, we made it to the event for which we had come to town - the Alamo Bowl. My parents started the tradition three years earlier when they had hoped their alma mater would be playing - they didn't, but that didn't stop my parents from buying tickets. They had so much fun they decided to keep coming back. This was my second year to join them.

Seeing as I had no ties to either school, I was a little unsure of who to cheer for. Texas or Oregon?

While I was pretty sure Oregon would win (and they did), I was happy to see Mack Brown's last stand...at the Alamo. The Longhorn band even spelled out his name at halftime.

As we journeyed home the next day, I was aware that while traveling with family has its rewards, there's still some give and take. Like how many pitstops are allowed on the drive home. As the oldest and most experienced traveler in my car, you'd think I'd know better. Fortunately for me, I'm a member of a compassionate family who in the end finally showed mercy and let me make an extra stop. All in all, I'll take the give and take any day.

TSA

 

Tuesday I woke-up up at 3:00 a.m. to make my flight to El Paso. The trip was uneventful as was my interaction with airport security. Like many trips before, my conversation with the TSA consisted mostly of orders to take off jackets and shoes and empty out liquids and laptops. Unlike this trip, however, I have found that sometimes TSA agents have more to say.

 

Sometimes TSA agents are curious.

 

Like the time I wore my Mellow Johnny's shirt:

 

Agent: Where's Mellow Johnny's Bike Shop?

Me:      Austin

Agent: Who's Mellow Johnny? Is he a good guy?

Me:      Well, it's Lance Armstrong's store, so....[Draw your own conclusions.]

Sometimes TSA agents are sweet.

Like the day I had the sniffles and was feeling sub-par at best:

 

Agent: Have you ever had strangers tell you how cute your freckles are?

Me:     No, but thanks.

Agent: You're not one of those girls who wishes they didn't have them are you?

Me:     Some days

Agent: Well, don't. Keep 'em.

 

And sometimes a TSA agent will want your phone number.

Except he can't write it down because he's working. So he'll give you his instead.

 

I was next in line at the security checkpoint in Terminal A when all of a sudden I hear my name being called. I look up alarmed. Why is there a TSA agent calling me...by name? I have not shown anyone my ID yet right?

 

3 security booths down I see Young Agent. Oh hello!

 

During law school I had taken a nonlegal part-time job to get me through my final year. The job helped me financially, but also gave my mind a much needed break. Young Agent and I had worked together.

 

Young Agent seemed excited to see me from his perch 3 lines over but we couldn't really talk as this was airport security and he appeared to be in training.

 

I whiz through ID verification. (The fact that a fellow TSA agent called me by name no doubt boosted my credibility.)

 

I quickly start undressing, whisking out my liquids and loading up my plastic bins. I bend down to take off my shoes. When I raise my head again, there's Young Agent on the other side of the conveyor belt.

 

YA: So how you been? Your hair looks different.

 

By different he probably means dry. We were swim instructors and he rarely saw me properly clothed.

 

We play catch-up for a second when it's clear he wants my number. He remembers that he's in training and can't write it down so he suggests that I get his number and send him a text. To avoid an awkward moment, I grab my phone before it gets sucked into the bag scanner and jot down his digits.

I'm then being propelled towards the body scanner. Old Agent is there to give me my cue.

OA: So you know Young Agent?

Me: Yeah, we used to work together.

OA: That's what he said. [Smiling amusedly.]

 

News travels fast.

 

As I come out the other side of the body scanner and retrieve my things, Young Agent appears again for the third time.

 

He travels fast too.

YA: Don't forget to text me your number!

Me: Sure thing.

I turn the corner, find a bench, and put my shoes back on as I fight the urge to laugh. I've never run into a TSA agent I've known before. And I've never had one ask me for my number. My trip was starting off well.

In the end, I make the cruel decision not to text him. I figure his heart might break when he realizes I'm ten years his senior. I was never very good at texting anyway (just ask Texting Cowboy).

 

But to the single ladies, as you travel home this holiday season, don't rush too fast through those TSA checkpoints. You never know where love could be lurking. And say, while your arms are raised for those 3 seconds in the body scanner, do what I've always been tempted to do - shake your hips and hope for the best.*

 

*Advice given by my little sister - as it applies to life not necessarily body scanners.
 

Controlling the Uncontrollable

For those of you that know me well, you know that I'm a planner. I like to know what is going to happen tomorrow, next week, and even next month sometimes. As a young child at bedtime, I would always ask my mother what we were going to do the next day. I always wanted to know what tomorrow would bring. As a young woman, I would tell people my plans and how things were going to work out. They kindly and wisely advised that things don't always work out how you plan it. I smartly replied that while I understood this, for me, things will go as planned. Needless to say, I've a learned a lot since then.

The most important lesson I've learned is that suffering most often comes when we try to control the uncontrollable, fix what cannot be fixed, change what cannot be changed. In short, we are unhappy when we try to resist what life throws at us.

Let me explain.

1. I used to be scared of roller coasters. I hated that feeling when your stomach "goes up". I wanted my stomach to stay where it was supposed to stay. I didn't like that free-falling feeling. I liked to control how I felt. But then my junior year in high school we had Physics Day at Six Flags Astroworld. My friends "forced" me onto this ride called Dungeon Drop which takes you 20 stories above the ground, your feet dangling in the air, and then, simply drops you. While I was screaming the entire time, even before we actually dropped, and my stomach did "go up," I exited the ride carried by my own two feet. After facing down the worst ride in the park, I could now ride anything. I finally accepted that while you are in control as to whether or not you choose to ride (even under peer pressure), you may not be in control of your body while on the ride. But that is the experience you chose when you buckled yourself in. Learning to accept what the ride offered, helped me to appreciate the joy of roller coasters. I can now ride anything, mostly.

2. A couple years ago, I needed a shot. The shot was going to help me get better, but it was going to be painful, particularly so because of the location of where the shot was to be inserted. I braced myself for the pain and the doctor inserted the needle. I felt the pain coming. It hurt, it HURT, oh I wanted to scream! But no, I told myself, accept the pain, the pain is from the shot which will cause the healing. I relaxed, the pain in this case was my ally, if not my friend. After administering the shot, the doctor remarked at what a high pain tolerance I must have to not react as she had seen grown men jerk and cry out with pain when undergoing the same treatment. While I had felt the urge to jerk quite strongly in fact, I learned that accepting pain is sometimes more pleasant than resisting it.

3. I went skiing for the first time when I was 16. Growing up in Texas didn't offer a lot of opportunities. I was a timid skier and cautious as I descended the mountain. I did not face the runs head on with my chest pointed downhill and only my hips turning side to side - the proper technique. I would instead turn my entire body, including my chest and head, sideways as I debated if descending the mountain is really what I wanted to do. I then went to college in the mountain west and took a skiing class for credit. It was in the class that I learned success in skiing comes when you face the mountain head on, when you relinquish fear and hesitation, and you simply attack the slopes. And what a difference it made! For the first time ever, I made it down a black diamond in one piece.

So what do all these stories have to do with real life?

A few months ago, there was something in my life that I wanted. I did all I could to make it happen. It was a worthy desire and I felt, for that reason alone, something positive would come of it. It didn't. I grew frustrated. Here I was, doing all I could to bring about something that was good, something I really wanted, and nothing was happening. (This scenario repeats often in my life.) Essentially, I was trying to control or force to happen something that could not be controlled or forced. No matter my determination, persistence, and hard work, there are still some things in life that cannot be changed by my will alone. In addition to being frustrated, I grew unhappy, I compared myself to others, I suffered.

But then I remembered, I just needed to let go. This is the life I signed up for. Of course there are going to be times of pain and discomfort, but isn't that wonderful? It means I'm living life, having adventures, learning and growing. When I decided to accept what was and to let go of what I could not control and attack the slope essentially, it was amazing what happened. All of a sudden, thoughts, ideas, adventures, good things, rushed into my life. So much so that I struggle to find time to keep up with all of them. Life is full.

So what if I hadn't let go? What if I had resisted the fact that I can't control everything? What if I had refused to accept the discomfort of things not working out as planned? Would I still be harboring a woe-is-me attitude, failing to see all the joy and fullness around me? I've come to discover that most suffering comes when things don't work out as we think they should. And as I've said before, sometimes that's okay.

I realize that the lessons above are mine, tailored to me in a way I need and understand. Perhaps they will not apply to everyone. But as for me, I get it. And don't worry, I'm sure I will have the pleasure of learning these things many, many, many times over.

Flying Lessons

Here are a few things I've learned from flying this year.

1. If you wear a navy suit at DFW airport, you will be mistaken for a flight attendant. The first time you are asked for directions, you will think nothing of it. The second time, you will think it's just your friendly face. The 3rd time you are asked for directions within a five minute time frame, you will realize it is just a case of mistaken identity.

2. Driving on the wrong side of a divided highway going 65 mph in the dead of night could result in death. (This may seem obvious, but I was not the only one to have done this after leaving the Abilene airport in a rental car. According to the rental car agent, three people have died doing exactly that. The 18-wheeler I passed sure didn't seem to notice anything amiss.)

3. Sitting at your gate prior to your scheduled departure time does not ensure you will hear your boarding call or make your flight. If, after missing your flight, you try to book the last flight to a neighboring city, you will find that after several delays that flight will be canceled. After spending six hours at the airport and getting nowhere, you will finally realize the only option left is to try again in the morning. (Bytheway, this has also happened to other seemingly responsible people I know. I blame small planes and the caos of Terminal B.)

4. When you finally make it to your destination after enduring scenario #3, do not overindulge in fine spirits - you will be arrested for public drunkenness. (This was not me!)

5. On a similar note to #3, a canceled flight to Lubbock may mean a late night drive to Ft. Worth. Though you may not be with your clients, you'll at least be with the Judge.

6. If you are going to forget your book on the plane, be sure to use your boarding pass as a bookmark. The American Airlines attendants will return it to you on your flight home.

7. Even though there may be seven TSA agents at your gate checking identification for a second time prior to boarding on the day after the federal government has shutdown and rid itself of all non-essentials, try to rest assured that this sporadic security measure is now standard procedure at DFW. Of course despite being informed of this, for the duration of the flight you will be considering what course of action to take when the unidentified terrorist makes his move.

8. Although you have just read a book about a girl's fear of drowning and your plane's descent into Myrtle Beach is taking you closer, Closer, and CLOSER! to the ocean below with no runway in sight, you will touch down unharmed.

9. When traveling out of Bush, keep an eye out for passengers, TSA agents, grounds crew, flight attendants, and pilots you may know. (Yes, I've known and run into at least one in each category.)

(I hope everyone's made it this far because #10 is the most important!)

10. Never, EVER, sit next to a woman who is eating chicken noodle soup prior to take-off. Said woman WILL spew/project/launch the contents of her stomach upon landing. She will take out at least seven people in three different rows. Although you are sitting next to her, you will miraculously be saved, but you will be rendered incapacitated due to approaching levels of medical shock.

Louder!

My first semester in law school I had a civil procedure professor that struck fear in the hearts of his students. Like a typical law professor, he called on students at random. Students had no way of knowing when their day would come to be subjected to 45 minutes of intense scrutiny and inquisition. Dread was what I felt walking into his class everyday. But unlike my other 1L professors, he liked to yell. And his yells were not rants against the pot-smoking judges in California (these rants & opinions were reserved by my Torts professor), his yells were directed at you. This is where the fear came.

Some of his typical yells included:

LOUDER! when he felt you weren't speaking loud enough. If he had to yell this more than twice during your session, he would follow it up with "LOUDER! If I have to tell you that one more time, I'm going to lower your grade by a 1/3!" Not only was this humiliating in front of 50 of your peers, it was seen as detrimental for 1Ls determined to beat out their classmates for the 2-3 As to be distributed that semester.

Answer MY question! when you answered the question you hoped he would ask because you knew the answer to that question, not the question he actually asked.

I don't care what you think! when you posed your answer with "I think...." He didn't care what we thought. He wanted us to take a stand, right or wrong, and defend it.

What's your authority?! when you did take a stand but didn't back up your stance with a legal source.

One girl seated in the row in front of me got called on one day and never came back.

Somehow I made it through. I even decided to take the same professor the following year for my Bus Org class. I knew I would have to be on top of my game, but at least his lectures would be entertaining. I noticed, however, that he didn't yell quite so much that year. He didn't seem quite so intimidating. Perhaps he felt that as 2Ls we had survived his refiner's fire and had proven ourselves somehow.

As a law school grad, I can now look back on these days without sheer anxiety swelling inside my chest (well, almost). I realize now that my professor, while perhaps wanting to instill fear in us, also wanted to instill in us confidence. Confidence in how we spoke and in what we said. Confidence in what we stood for and in front of whom we stood.

I feel in the past ten years, I've been given a lot of opportunities to test my confidence and strength. I never dreamed I would ever go to law school. I never dreamed I would ever be an attorney. I never dreamed I would ever be an attorney that speaks to judges on a daily basis. I also never dreamed I would still be a single woman. Or that I would still have no family of my own. It's interesting to see what becomes of you when things don't work out quite how you plan it. But sometimes it works out for the better. The better because you become someone you never thought you could be.

In this season of Thanksgiving, I would like to give thanks to a wise Father in Heaven who gives me what I need, not necessarily what I want. Who shows me what I can become if only I will do my part. Who offers me challenges I fear I am to weak to conquer. And Who, when I struggle, offers the strength and comfort to keep me moving forward.

Texting Cowboy

I realize it's been a few weeks since I posted about my travels. I got busy and then had the misfortune of meeting Texting Cowboy.

Perhaps my first indication that Texting Cowboy and I were bound for disaster was when I expressly refused to follow the advice given by Unknown Man in Lobby (see here). In other words, I went looking for love. I did. I admit it. I even went looking in my own hometown, a rather novel idea for me actually. But look I did.

Texting Cowboy knew how to text, true, but he also knew how to woo. And woo he did. My favorite quote of this unfortunate whirlwind of a relationship (if you can call it that) came on the 3rd date (which also happened to be the 3rd day of knowing him- I know, I'm an idiot).

"Texting Cowboy, don't you think this is moving a little fast? I mean, you don't even know my last name yet."

"I don't need to know your last name. It's gonna be mine one day." [Spoken in a thick Texas accent.]

Here's where I would like to advise young ladies that though the above comment sounds hopelessly romantic, especially when spoken by a man wearing cowboy boots, if the above happens to you, Run!

A man should not be talking about marriage and your future "hooligans" on the 3rd day of knowing you, however exciting it may feel.  But run I did not. Instead, I saw him again the next day.

On Day Number 4, he proposed marriage. Well, he didn't mean it. I think? But maybe he did. I told him he would have to do better than that and I don't think he knew how. The only thing he had been taught to do was woo.

Despite the four heated days we shared together (heated in the most Mormon sense of the word - I do live the law of chastity), I never heard from him again. His voice anyway.

Like I said, Texting Cowboy knows how to text and he kept that up for awhile. But then I guess his thumbs got tired and I refused to be discarded when he felt appropriate. So as the Southern Gentleman he claims to be he found his way out when I made the mistake of texting the words "Oh hi." Now, there are several different ways that "oh hi" can be interpreted. My sister and I say "oh hi" to each other often when we get a happy but unexpected call. But apparently, "oh hi" was on his list of things you should never text a man. (Maybe things would have turned out differently if I had only put an exclamation point!) So with that, his character, or lack thereof, was revealed. He pulled out as the coward and womanizer he showed himself to be.

Unknown Man in Lobby proved to be right again! I never knew such wisdom could be found while waiting idly in a Houston hearing office. I must listen more carefully next time I find myself there.

I will now redouble my efforts to Not Look for Love, despite the enticing idea I was given by a friend yesterday to advertise: Attorney with Shotgun seeks Wilderness Guide. Let's face it, hunting season is drawing to a close and I've still never been! But no...I must be strong...Not..Looking....

Waco Weekend

Before my sister and her husband made the decision to move to Waco this fall, most of my interactions with the town had been driving around Baylor campus and down Valley Mills Rd. While Baylor has a nice campus right next to the Brazos River, the city that I saw left something to be desired. When my sister announced this would be her new home, I was determined to venture off my well-beaten but ugly paths and find some of the more beautiful attractions Waco has to offer.  This weekend I got to revisit some of those places.

One place I did not revisit was Health Camp. This is a local burger and shake restaurant that began in 1948 to serve military personnel at the local air force base.

It's located in Waco's traffic roundabout. (Why they build roundabouts in America, I have no idea. I do not like them.) Employee's even wear shirts that say, "I survived the circle." You can order inside or at the little walk-up window outside. I had recommended the local joint to my sister and she tried it when she moved into town. She wasn't so impressed and prefers the burgers at George's. I, on the other hand, had thoroughly enjoyed my chocolate, peanut butter, banana shake.

I was scheduled for a hearing in Waco on Monday and decided to drive up Saturday afternoon to spend a little more time with my sister. We had discussed renting a canoe at Outdoor Waco located downtown and just across the road from the Brazos, but with the threat of rain and waning sunlight we opted for a quick trip to Lake Waco instead.

Lake Waco is man-made lake created by a dam on the Bosque River. Bosque means "forest" in Spanish. (FYI: There's only one natural lake in Texas - Caddo Lake near the Texas/Louisiana border.) When we pulled up to the lake we saw a fisherman with his catch of the day displayed proudly on the bed of his 1980s Chevy truck. The fish were lined up in order of size from smallest to biggest . He caught 1 catfish and about 7 buffalo fish. The biggest weighing 30-35 lbs.

We didn't bring a fishing pole, but with two geologists in tow we soon began looking for brachiopods and gastropods. I just thought they were called shells and bivalves.

When all the specimens were identified, we skipped rocks. Chloe was a natural, but I required a few lessons from Tanner. Apparently, skipping rocks has more to do with rotation and form then pure arm strength. Not that our form looks all that graceful.

After dinner, we got in the Halloween spirit by carving pumpkins. Chloe and Tanner had picked out three the night before at an over-priced, charity pumpkin patch. Supposedly, there was one large pumpkin selling for $100.

Photo taken by Tanner

While I stuck to the traditional form, Chloe decided to get a little creative. Instead of the intended mustache she got something more akin to a cleft palate. Tanner went an alien route.

On Sunday afternoon we headed to Cameron Park. This is by far my favorite part of the town as it has several hiking and biking trails, look-outs, and even a zoo. Our first stop was Proctor Springs.

At the springs, a geology lesson was given as to how and why the water trickles down through the rocks. Regrettably, my non-geologist mind has since forgotten the lesson. All of my Texas geology knowledge comes from four years of teaching Texas History. This spring, and others like it in central Texas, were created by the Balonces Fault which serves as a border between the hill country and coastal plains.

The fault can more easily be seen at Lover's Leap. The banks of the Bosque River differ in elevation before joining the Brazos River just a few hundred feet downstream. (See also photo above.)

In addition to geological sites, I saw a lot of this throughout the weekend...

...newlyweds.

Monday, before I had to take off for my hearing, we went to see the Baylor bears. No, they are not stuffed like I had originally thought. They are actually living black bears housed on campus at the Bill and Eva Williams Bear Habitat just down the street from the Baylor bookstore. Bears became the official Baylor mascot in 1914 after competitive alternatives like bookworm were voted down. The first live mascot came to campus in 1917. In 1974, it was decided that all bears would be given the name "Judge" followed by a surname.

Meet today's live mascots, sisters named Judge Joy Reynolds ("Joy") and Judge Sue Sloan ("Lady").


I'm not sure which is which.

This one was pacing in circles the whole time we were there which made me sad.

The bears are one year apart. The oldest will be thirteen in January. They will live the rest of their lives at Baylor, which will be a longer life than a wild bear ranging between 22 and 25 years as opposed to 18 to 20. Fortunately, the practice of feeding Dr. Pepper (a Wacoan creation) to the bears ceased in the 1990s.

One place we didn't make it to this weekend was the Ansel Adams exhibit at the Baylor Museum of Art. The museum is closed on Mondays. But that's no problem, because I'll be back in Waco next Tuesday for more wac-o fun with my sis. And oh, maybe a little work as well.

Myrtle Beach, SC

When I got the email that I was assigned a hearing in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina I thought, surely this can't be. I mean, I had been assigned a hearing in New York City and Denver before, but that was only because our scheduling partner had made a mistake. I never actually got to go to those places. I thought for sure the same thing would happen in this situation. Someone would realize the mistake and assign the hearing to one of our East Coast attorneys. But that never happened. Two days went by and I was still listed as rep. So I bought my ticket and booked my hotel (on the beach!) before anyone could change their minds.

I flew into Myrtle Beach around 7:00 p.m. and from the airport it looked a lot like Panama City, Florida. The lady at the rental car agency recommended I eat at Creek Ratz, south of town on the Murrell Inlets overlooking the marsh. I thought the marsh may be cool, but I wanted to see the beach.

I find my hotel on South Ocean Blvd and check-in. I'm assured I have an ocean front view from my 5th floor balcony. The middle-aged lady at the counter asked what kind of work I did. When I told her I was an attorney, I almost gave her a heart attack. She gasped sharply and exclaimed, "Oh, I though you were just a baby." I'm not sure how young babies are in South Carolina, but I at least look 25 I'm thinking, and 25 is still technically old enough to be an attorney. I assured her that I would look more grown-up the next day when I put on my suit and had my hair down.

After locking myself out of my room (the first time ever!), and then forgetting my camera, I finally cruise Ocean Blvd keeping an eye out for the big Ferris wheel I had seen online.  It wasn't hard to find.

 

What was hard to find was an available parking spot. The spots that were available required cash which I didn't have. I was starting to feel tired and worn out from the day and all of a sudden all I wanted was something familiar and comfortable. I turn a corner and lo behold, there was Chick-fi-la. I know. I should have been more daring and adventurous, but there it was, like a home away from home calling to me. I had had a rough morning and I couldn't help it - I caved. I took my meal back to my 5th floor balcony and ate it as I listened to the lapping waves and unwound for the day.

My hearing was scheduled for late Wednesday morning and the office was located about ten miles north of my hotel. The hearing was over by lunch time.

As I tried to find my way back to the beach, I stumble upon a bookstore and a mall. Perfect. I had just finished reading Divergent by Veronica Roth on my flight out and was desperately wanting to get my hands on the second book of the trilogy, Insurgent. Not only was I enthralled with the story, but I needed a book for the beach and my three hour flight back home. (Book #3 comes out on Tuesday!) I also needed a place to change out of my business suit.

I'm prepared with cash this afternoon and I find a prime parking spot. First stop is lunch at Peaches Corner.

The young waitress calls me "darling" and plops into my booth to take my order. Oh, is that your natural hair color? No, it used to be red and now it's faded. Oh, well you should keep it like that. She goes and gets my drink. Upon returning she must've seen my camera bag and asks, Ooh, are you a photographer? Nope, just having fun with my new camera. She looks stumped.

After lunch I head for a store that caught my eye the night before, I Love Sugar.

I walk into the store and I see this welcome banner of color and candy.

 

I make a bag of carefully selected Jelly Belly beans and then I discover Wolverine PEZ. And of course, I buy it.    



 

Next stop is the SkyWheel.

 

 

I buy my $13.00 ticket and wait in line. While I wait I learn a few things. The wheel was built in May 2011 and goes 200 feet high.  The ride will take you on 3 revolutions and will last 8-10 minutes. If you get claustrophobic or scared (like the teenage girl in front of me was becoming) there's an emergency button in your gondola that alerts the attendant that you need help and he will slowly bring you down.

 

The young twenty-something-year-old attendant that puts me into my gondola tries to figure me out. So, everyone else chickened out, huh? No, it's just me. Pause as he thinks this over. I'm here for work. Oh, what do you do? I'm an attorney. OH. He slowly registers that I'm older than I look and maybe he should stop smiling so much. He makes a few more comments and the people who are waiting to be put in their gondola next start looking at us and I'm thinking, time to wrap it up dude.

 

I'm starting to realize that a young woman traveling on her own makes people uncomfortable. They must figure me out. I must be traveling with friends, they are just not with me at the moment. Or I must be a photographer (I wish!), which would somehow explain why I have a camera in a tourist town all alone.

 

The ride provides a great view of the beach and town.

 

 

And as far as I know, the teenage girl in front of me didn't need the emergency button.

 

As I get off the ride, the attendant, who has had 3 revolutions to think things over, decides to now address me as Ma'am and wishes me good day.

Now it's time to relax at the beach with my toes in the sand. The temperature is 70 degrees with overcast skies and, despite local laments for sun, I love it. The water is cold and I can't imagine swimming in it. Several beach-goers don't seem to mind though.

Unfortunately, 4 o'clock rolls around and it's time to head to the airport. I stop at a gas station to fill my rental when a guy delivering ice starts talking to me. How you doing? Good. Are you from Myrtle Beach? Nope, just visiting. Well, when are you leaving? Right now. Where are you from? Houston. Oh. Do you travel here much? Nope, first time. And then he starts telling me when a good time to visit is and when isn't, etc. He drags out the conversation as I open my car door and try to give him the hint that I want to leave. Well...I would say I'll see you next time you're in town...but I guess we'll never know. Guess not.

I think of the advice I was given the previous morning by some unknown man sitting across the lobby of a Houston hearing office: The key to finding Mr. Right is to stop looking. Well, I'm not looking, but this man delivering ice definitely isn't him. And it wasn't the SkyWheel attendant. And it wasn't the car passenger who smiled and waved as I tried to cross Ocean Blvd. And it wasn't the airline attendant who commented as he walked by, "Now there's someone who knows what they're doing. Whatever it is you're doing, just keep on doing it." But you know, South Carolina might not be a bad place to stop looking for love.



George's

What's the best thing about being assigned hearings in Shreveport, LA one day and Austin, TX the next? Driving through Waco! That's right, I get excited to go to Waco.

My sister, Chloe, and her newly-wedded husband, Tanner, moved to Waco this fall so my brother-in-law could attend grad school at Baylor University. (My sister graduated with her master's last spring.) This trip would be the first time seeing them in their new home.

I rolled into Waco on Monday around 5:00 p.m. and chilled in their complex parking lot until my brother-in-law came home with the key. (I had traveled to Waco earlier in the year for work and had used my free time to check-out certain rental properties for my sister. This complex had not been on their list and I suggested they look into it as a potential future home.)

My sister was working until about 7:30 p.m., so, after a quick apartment tour, my brother-in-law and I chilled in front of the TV as I caught up on work and he caught up on ESPN news.

Around 7:30, we drive around the corner and meet up with my sis at George's on Hewitt Drive. I had been wanting to try this restaurant for a year. A hotel clerk once recommended it to me and raved about their Crazy Wings. George's has only two locations in Waco and began serving food back in 1930. They are known for their famous drink "Big O," which was given that name in 1967. George's has catered all over the state and even catered for President George W. Bush while he was at his Crawford ranch.

We decided to sit on the patio because it's Texas in October and only 70 degrees. Our server recommended the Chicken Fried Steak or the Crazy Wings but assured us that everything on the menu was great. And it was. Chloe ordered The Classic hamburger, Tanner ordered the BBQ Sliced Brisket Sandwich, and, breaking from my normal dietary regimen, I ordered Crazy Wings and Big "O" Rings - very much a man's meal I think.

Chloe said it was the best hamburger she's had in Waco. Tanner had no problem finishing his sandwich. And although I couldn't finish my meal, it was pretty amazing.

Crazy Wings consist of "chicken, jack cheese & jalapeño wrapped in bacon and fried." I ordered ranch for the dipping sauce but ended up using the house sauce that came with my onion rings.

Crazy Wings

This would commence my week of eating - see Austin Eats & Treats

More important than the food was the conversation and hearty laughs I shared with my sister. It was hard to say goodbye at the end of our meal and head off to Austin alone, but seeing her broke up the lonely monotony of my trip and reminded me that sisters are the best friends a girl can have.

Tanner & Chloe

Austin Eats & Treats

Normally when I travel, I'm in and out of a city with little time to spare. I drive in the night before, crash at a hotel, do my hearings, and race back home. Or if the hearings are in the afternoon, I'll do all my traveling in one day. It is not uncommon for me to drive eight hours round trip in one day for one hearing. This often occurs on more than one day of the week. So when I get to spend two days in a row in the same city, it's a rare treat.

This week I got to spend an extra day in Austin and I was determined to find unique places to eat. With the help of some friends (thanks Mark, Macie, and Chloe), I found the following three.

1. Torchy's Tacos

For lunch in between hearings, I headed over to the South Austin Trailer Park & Eatery located on South 1st Street.

Inside this trailer park of food trucks, I easily spotted Torchy's Tacos as it was the only truck with a line at 11:00 a.m.

There was a cupcake trailer next-door but it wasn't open for the day yet. There was another non-descript lunch trailer, but it received no attention for the 45 minutes I was at the park.

The trailer park is located right next-door to the Texas School for the Deaf. The man ordering in front of me was deaf and I thought about striking up a conversation in my limited sign language, but decided against it.

I ordered the taco of the month, Scarecrow. Torchy's Tacos describes this taco as "pumpkin-seed breaded chicken tenders and roasted poblano peppers, escabeche carrots, queso fresco, cilantro, and creamy Chiptole Ranch." It. Was. Delicious.

 

For all my Houston friends, there's good news. Torchy's Tacos has a trailer in Rice Village and last month, one opened up in the Heights. Check it out.

2. Hopdoddy Burger Bar

For an early dinner, I headed over to South Congress, which was pretty happenin' at 3:00 p.m. on a Tuesday. Parking is limited on the street and I ended up parking in the garage behind the restaurant. (Parking is free for the first two hours so long as it is validated.)

Hopdoddy is named is named after a hand-crafted beer (hop) and a nickname given to the native cow of Aberdeen, Scotland (doddy). Burger choices include: angus beef, bison, lamb, turkey, tuna, and black bean-corn. I opted for the classic and a chocolate shake.

The shake I ordered was called Chocolate Stout. I thought nothing of this. Stout is after all an adjective. I though it must be a funky Austin way of describing a chocolate shake that is thick and full and decidedly delicious. I found out the hard way that the word stout is not only an adjective, but is also a noun. A noun referring to a type of beer.

Despite my degrees, I have a very limited knowledge of all things alcoholic. I have chosen to live my entire life alcohol free (yes, I graduated from undergrad and law school stone cold sober). I, therefore, find it imperative to impart this valuable lesson to my sober friends who have made similar commitments and may be similarly naïve. Be forewarned. Stout is beer. So stay sober my friends. And if there is a word on the menu you think is merely an adjective, you might want to double check before ordering.

3. Gourdough's

To recover from my previous day's follies, I stuck to something familiar for Wednesday's lunch. Partly for punishment and partly for fear. But I did pick up some treats before heading out of town.





Gourdough's, which sounds like the Spanish word for fat - gordo, is another food truck located on South 1st street, just a block or so from Torchy's Tacos. They specialize in donuts. Big. Fat. Donuts.




That's me in the reflection.

Walking up to the truck, I see three people sharing one donut. Uh-oh. Could I handle one donut all by myself? I was heading back to Houston to share this treat with a good friend (and loyal dog-sitter) and wanted donuts that would make the 3 hour car ride back. I chose Miss Shortcake and ODB (which I think stands for "oh dear, beck!" because that's how good it was). Other random flavors include: maple & bacon, PBJ, fudge & marshmallow, etc. It's pretty much donut heaven.




ODB: Cream-filled donut holes with icing rolled in coconut

Miss Shortcake: Cream cheese icing with fresh cut strawberries

Disclaimer: Lest you think I eat like this on a regular basis, I want to clarify that this was not typical behavior. I am a girl who watches her carbs (even gluten and dairy) and eats meat sparingly. Not because I'm watching my weight (although that is an added benefit), but because I feel better and cleaner when I avoid those things. I do believe in self-indulgence from time to time. This was one of those times. I will now go back to rice and beans for the remainder of the week.

A Golden Crane

Above my desk is a United States map with red dot stickers marking cities I've traveled to for work. In the lower right-hand corner, hanging from a pushpin, is a golden crane ornament. I picked this up in a gift shop in Oklahoma City to remind me of a few things I learned while I was there.

I was 3 months into my new career as a practicing attorney. I was busy learning the ropes, adjusting to my new travel schedule, and just trying to hang on. My week was looking good until I got a call on Monday afternoon. I was told that I now had six additional hearings: four on Thursday and two on Friday. To make matters worse, I would need to travel. Thursday's hearings were in Tulsa and Friday's hearings were in Oklahoma City. 6 cases to prep, 2 trips to arrange, and a flight and a road trip. All with two days notice. And I still had a trip to Harlingen, TX to make.

Tuesday, I take off on a day trip to Harlingen. Everything went smoothly until I tried to fly home. Due to weather in Houston, our little Express plane was not going to make it. Our flight was cancelled. No more flights with that airline were flying out that night. They tried to re-book me on another flight for Thursday. I was supposed to be in Tulsa on Thursday and I had a hearing Wednesday morning in Houston. That was not going to work. So I tried to see about getting a rental car and just driving the six hours up to Houston. Rental agencies refused to book a one way rental. So then I went to Southwest. Due to their bigger planes they had no problem flying through the Houston weather. Unfortunately, my car was parked at the Bush Airport in north Houston and Southwest only flies into Hobby, just south of downtown. Once I got booked on my Southwest flight, I had to arrange for a shuttle to take me from Hobby to Bush to pick-up my car. The Southwest flight got delayed, there were other passengers in the shuttle that had to be dropped off first, but eventually I made it to my car and back home. With four hours of sleep, I was up and at it again.

Wednesday, I had my hearing in Houston and flew out to Tulsa. Due to yet another delay, I arrive later than expected. I'm given a hummer-esque type jeep to drive and I make it to my hotel well past midnight. I get a whopping fours of sleep, yet again. I'm the kind of the girl that needs a full eight to function properly. With six or seven I can manage pretty well. But four hours of sleep, two nights in a row...it wasn't looking good.

I arrive in downtown Tulsa for my four hearings. Took me awhile to find the building and I had to ask for directions. My first hearing with the Judge I walk in and say "Good morning," smiling as I try to mask the complete exhaustion and bewilderment of my week thus far. The Judge, however, did not appreciate my greeting, and proceeded to lecture me on how my behavior was entirely unacceptable. Getting chewed out for saying good morning?! Let's just say that was only the beginning. I'm not really sure how I did it, but I somehow made it through without crying. That came later.

Once I finally made it to Oklahoma City (and fortunately I did not fall asleep on the two hour drive there), I finished the mandatory work for the day and crashed. Early. Despite the city excitement that surrounded the NBA Finals to be played there that night.

Oklahoma City proved to be much better than Tulsa. The Judge was nice, our hearings went smoothly, and I was in and out with time to spare.

The Oklahoma City federal building, where my hearings were held, is located right across the street from the site of the old federal building. The one that was blown up in 1995 by Timothy McVeigh. It is always a humbling experience to do hearings in Oklahoma City. There's a constant reminder of how short life is and how many people pay the price for senseless violence. If I had been doing in 1995 what I'm doing now, I would have been in that building.

With the extra time I had before my flight, I toured the grounds of the old federal building and the monuments dedicated to those who lost their lives.



The wall says 9:01, when OKC lived in innocence.
There is another wall on the opposite end that says 9:03, when OKC would never be the same again.
The reflection pool is where the federal building once stood.
 

168 chairs represent those that died.
There are 9 rows to represent the 9 floors each person was on.

This was written by one of the first responders. It still remains, untouched and unchanged.

 

There are still loved ones who bring the departed gifts and notes tucked into the wire fence that remains.

I bought a ticket and toured the museum housed in the building next to the site. I have never been to such a place for such an awful event that happened in my lifetime. I remember seeing the news and feeling the horror as so many other Americans did. While I was at the museum, they had a woman speak to us for an hour about her experience on that horrible day in April. She had a one-year-old son that attended day care in the building and was killed the day of the bombing. I can't tell you what an effect it had on me.

Here I was having what I thought was the worst week ever: 1 cancelled flight, 2 nights with 4 hours of sleep, 4 cases before a judge that chewed me out for saying "good morning," and 6 hearings dropped on me with 2 days notice. But it wasn't the worst week ever. I've never come close to having the worst week ever.

In Japanese folklore, it is believed that folding a thousand paper cranes will help cure illness. This belief was made popular by a Japanese girl who died from the effects of radiation after the atomic bomb in WWII. Paper cranes have since become an expression of mourning as well. After the Oklahoma City bombing, schoolchildren sent paper cranes in increments of a thousand to comfort the victims. These paper cranes are exhibited in the museum.

I bought a golden crane in the gift shop on my way out and hung it above my desk when I got home. It is there to remind me that no matter how bad my week is, it can never be that bad. On a rough day, I look up at it and remember, my day is pretty good after all.