Trial is over, so I can now talk about the case. Here’s what happened. The charge was assault due to family violence, which is a felony punishable by probation, as a minimum sentence, maximum sentence 10 years in prison. A mother (in her late 40's) took her 18-year-old daughter’s cell phone and car keys away after a verbal fight. The daughter was getting ready to go to work so she was trying to get her phone and keys back from the mother. There was a heated verbal fight, which ended in a physical fight. The daughter went into the mother’s bedroom where her mother was, tried to get her phone and keys, started hitting the mother on the back with her closed fists. The mother, who is much taller and weighs a lot more than the daughter, threw the daughter on the bed, put both hands around her throat, and nearly strangled her to death while saying, “I could kill you.” Something stopped the mother from killing the daughter (the voices in her head told her to stop and go eat a snicker’s bar? We’ll never know), the daughter escaped and went to a neighbor’s house, called 911 and waited for the police to arrive. Two different police officers responded and the daughter was interviewed and her injuries were photographed, but she refused medical treatment and did not want to press charges against the mother. The mother refused to be photographed and did not want to press charges against the daughter. One of the officers determined that the mother was out of control, there had been other cases of family violence in the past (911 had been called several times before), and due to the severity of the daughter’s injuries, he decided to arrest the mother for assault, so it was The State of Texas versus the mother.

Now the case has gone to trial (one year later) and enter 12 jurors who get to hear the entire ugly story (previous abuse, mom worked out of the country for a few years while the daughter was growing into an adult, mom and dad bickering for years, daughter put in the middle), we listened to neighbors talk smack about the daughter, the daughter and mother both told their sides of what happened, of course their stories didn’t quite match. Both mother and daughter admitted there was a physical fight over the cell phone and keys. The mother did not admit to strangling the daughter. She stated the daughter’s injuries happened during the fight but not from strangulation.

The evidence we saw and heard: photographs of the daughter’s neck (visible hand prints, welts on both sides her neck and deep scratches with blood drawn), testimony from both sides, an audio recording of the 911 call, neighbors testified about past history. We had to decide if there was enough evidence to convict the mother of assault. The jurors were made up of 12 people, men and women, different races, different backgrounds, of all different ages. The final outcome was 10 guilty verdicts, 2 not guilty verdicts. Because we couldn’t all agree, the judge called a mistrial and he stated they will start all over again. There will be a new set of jurors and the mother will be tried all over again until she’s found either guilty or not guilty.

For those who are wondering, the two people who decided the mother was not guilty of assault were both Indian men (from India, not Native American) in their 50's. They both stated they thought it was a family fight that got out of control and the mother shouldn’t go to prison for a mistake. In my opinion, this is a cultural difference. I’m not condemning these two men, their beliefs are their beliefs. I just don’t agree. Here’s my struggle and concern: the daughter and mother are still living in the same house because the daughter is going to college full time and working full time at a minimum wage job, so she cannot afford to move out. Will another fight occur in the future and will the mother finally finish the job of ending her daughter when/if she loses control again? I’ve lost sleep over this. The end.

Hey buddy! Can you spare a six figure income - part two?

The days of wine and roses have come to an abrupt end. And just when my "OMG! I'm getting old and need to start saving as much money as possible for retirement (HA!)" alarm went off.

The good news: I did get a new writing gig, very close to home, with an oil company.
The bad news: It pays $20,000 a year less than what I usually make. Bad time for my "must save money for retirement" alarm to go off.

Employers are up to their old tricks again. The economy takes a shit, companies lay off thousands of people, and they low-ball the people who are now hitting the pavement to find another gig.

Competition is seriously stiff around these parts. I expected to be unemployed at least a month or two. Fortunately, it only took me about three weeks to find another gig. But the thousands of people who have flocked to the Houston area in the last several years because of the booming economy here, and who are now laid off are waking up to the ugly realities. You cannot pay your mortgage on your McMansion and your new Lexus and send your tiny child prodigies to private schools from the measly paychecks that you get from unemployment.

Those people, like me, who have had to accept a much lower income, will most likely have to make some tough decisions in the next few months. I have no idea how long the low-balling of salaries will continue here in the Houston area, but it's definitely going to affect the economy here (I know, DUH!) in several ways. Some negative, some positive. People who will have no choice but to sell their McMansion, or walk away from the debt, will be the losers in this deal. Some of the other people who have enough borrowing power, or simply have the cash to spare, will be able to pick up some good deals on said McMansions.

I did get approved to receive unemployment benefits from TWC (thanks Obama!). I got my first payment the day after I received the good news that I landed the writing gig from the Friday the 13th interview. Lucky, lucky me.

Still waiting to hear what my start date will be and really looking forward to loving weekends again. When every day feels like a Saturday, and there is no payday on the horizon, it kind of takes the fun out of things.

Hey buddy! Can you spare a six figure income?

Employment Agency Account Manager: Hi Jude. I received an email from Saqib today that your project is wrapping up.

Me: What? Really?

Account Manager: Yes. Does that sound right to you?

Me: No. Saqib told me last month that he wanted me to wrap up the project I've been working on because he has a big project he wants me to start on. Gosh. I hope they were happy with my services here.

Account Manager: If they weren't happy with you, I would've heard about it by now. I'll find out what's going on.

Chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp.

Is that the sound of crickets? Why, yes it is.

Being a consultant, I'm used to the up and down cycles of the job market. But it really smarts when you get blind-sided like I did this time. Especially when you're led to believe that you're being kept on long term. In a meeting I attended while at ABS NS, one of the VPs asked me to stay long term to help them with other projects. HEY! No backsies!!

I was a little upset at first, but because I've been a consulting technical writer for over 20 years, I recover quickly after being thrown under the bus. Soon, I realized that I would be free from the boss who would yell my name from across the room when he wanted me to attend an ad hoc meeting. Free from the boss who seemed to dislike me from day one. I moved through the grieving stages rather quickly. I wouldn't miss the job or the negative boss, or the coworkers, but I would miss the six figure income.

Easy come, easy go, am I right? I thought, no problem. I'll file for unemployment and then prepare to be bombarded with emails and phone calls from recruiters after updating my resume, which is always what happens to me.

I updated my resume. I filed for unemployment. This'll be a snap, I thought. I'll just wait for the flood of emails and phone calls. Any minute now. Any minute now.

Chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp.

Wtf? Nothing was happening. No emails. No phone calls. Okay, a couple of emails about jobs in other cities and other states. No can do. I still have a couple of months left on my lease. Yes, there have been thousands of others who have been recently laid off here in Texas because of the oil situation.

Must. Stay. Focused.

In the meantime, the many envelops filled with paperwork from filing for unemployment benefits arrives. Why do we need an "owner's manual" to file for unemployment? It shouldn't be that complicated. Have you been working? What was your income? What's your bank account number so we'll know where to deposit your checks? Easy, peasy.

Hold on now! Wait just a cotton-picking minute. Easy? What were you thinking? The TWC (Texas Work Commission) website says to file immediately after you've been laid off. Done, check that off my list.

I open the letter from the TWC and my unemployment claim was denied. Did you know that if you work for a temporary agency in Texas that you are considered still employed by them for three business days after you are laid off? You didn't??!! Well, neither did I!

Claimed denied. Do not pass GO. Do not collect $465 a week (that's the maximum you can get here in Texas when you're unemployed). I started doing the math (of course, I used a calculator - I'm a tech writer, not a mathematician). That's about $24,000 a year. That WOULD pay my rent and my car payment with a few dollars left over for bread and water. Who needs electricity and running water? Electricity and running water are for pussies.

WOULD pay my rent and car payment. But because of the technicality of working for a temp agency and the "still employed for three business days" rule, my claim was denied and considered invalid. Suddenly, a sugar daddy was sounding like a viable option as opposed to sleeping in a refrigerator box under a bridge.

Okay, stop panicking Jude.

I wasn't able to re-file my unemployment benefits claim online; I had to call a phone number. Just another two hours of my life gone while I listened to the message over and over again that "due to the call volume, we're unable to handle your call right now, so call back later, you miserable piece of shit who doesn't have a job. Click. Dial tone." But I was able to have one of the pleasant (no, really, she was very pleasant) TWC people cancel my first claim, and enter a new claim for me over the phone.

I'm waiting to see if I've broken some other rule which I had no clue about because I'm someone who doesn't have to worry about being unemployed. The anticipation is killing me.

The good news is, I have an interview today. It's not the six figure salary that I'm used to making, but it's a hell of a lot more than what unemployment pays.

Stay tuned.

2014 - Killer Elevators, Latin Lovers, Cancer, Job Loss and Gun Ranges

2014 was a year of firsts for me. Some were good, some were bad. It brought some high drama my way. It also brought heartbreak – personally, as well as professionally.

1) I was nearly killed by an elevator.
In January of this year, I had my first phobia-inducing incident in an elevator. Actually, I already had an elevator phobia and so when given the choice between stairs and an elevator I almost always opt to take stairs. I was working in a tall building in the West Chase area of Houston for an oil and gas company. My cubicle was on the first floor. The free daily lunch that was provided was in the canteen – on the 13th floor. Lucky number 13! I had just grabbed a free salad for lunch from the canteen and got in an elevator by myself to go back down to the first floor to eat my lunch. I pushed the button for the lobby and nothing happened. So I pushed it again. The elevator must have decided to take the express route because it descended so quickly that when it hit the first floor, it HIT the first floor. I was nearly knocked off my feet. Then the doors didn’t open. I stood there in shock for a few seconds then started punching the open doors button like a mad person. It took several tries before the doors finally opened. I lurched off the elevator and went directly to the lobby security man and told him that an elevator just tried to kill me. After several other people in the building reported some of the same type of incidents in some of the other elevators, they called the elevator maintenance company and it was determined that the elevators needed calibrating. You think? At least no one was seriously hurt and I got some free chiropractor adjustments out of the traumatic event. In a strange way, I feel somewhat validated that I’ve always had an elevator phobia.

2) I had my first Latin Lover (aka: The Hot Tamale).
I’ve been single for a very long time – about 16 years now. I’ve dated men of color. But I’d never dated a Latino man before, until I moved to Texas. I wasn’t avoiding them, it just never presented itself. I won’t go into the gory details, but just like a bright comet or shooting star streaking across the night sky, the relationship started out hot and bright and then suddenly disappeared leaving nothing behind but ashes. I don’t regret a thing.

3) I had my first skin cancer removed.
Being very fair-skinned like my father’s side of the family, I knew it was inevitable that I would eventually get skin cancer. I had many, many sunburns growing up on the west coast of Florida and spent a lot of time at the beach because it was free entertainment. The beaches on the west coast of Florida (at least in the Sarasota/Bradenton area where we lived) were gorgeous. The sand was white and fine like sifted flour. The water was always warm as bathwater. Good times. But I digress. I had a very small skin cancer, which was in the early stages, removed from my right shin, and a much larger, deeper one removed from my left shoulder. The one on my shoulder required seven stitches on the outside and several on the inside. The dermatologist had good news, though. This was not the “bad” skin cancer. I found out there are much worse types of skin cancer than what I had, which was basal-cell carcinoma. Mine was very treatable, and caught in the early stages. The moral of this story is: wear sunscreen!

4) I was laid-off in Texas for the first time.
I’d been working for nearly a year at an oil and gas company (another first but I started that job in 2013 so I can’t make that a 2014 first), and I loved it there. I enjoyed the work (writing Standard Operating Procedures for several different teams), I enjoyed the people, I had the best boss I’d ever had (great sense of humor, supportive, left me to do my work, I could go on and on), and the commute was a dream at 8 miles from home. I had even asked them to convert me to an employee! Things were going great. Until it all turned to shit.
They (HQ in Copenhagen) pulled the plug on a large project that had cost them a lot of money and so they decided it was time to lay a bunch of people off who’d been supporting the project. They laid-off most of the Subject Matter Experts who I’d been working with to document the SOPs. All of my projects were put on hold. I knew things weren’t looking good. About three weeks later I was told I was going to be laid off but they were giving me six weeks to find another job. Wow! As a contractor, I was astounded that they were giving me six week’s notice. I asked everyone and anyone who were left in the company if they needed any documentation done. All work had dried up. Sadly, I had to leave. The good news — it took less than a week to find another job. The bad news — I accepted a job working on a mosquito-infested Bayou. It paid really well and sounded interesting. I’ll explain more about that job in a future post because as they say, the Devil is in the details.

5) I visited my first indoor gun range.
I mentioned in a previous post (Texans are like snowflakes) that I finally went to an indoor gun range. I’d been thinking about it for a while and decided to stop by one on my way home from work one Friday. After telling Hunter (Ha! How appropriate!), the guy behind the counter, that I’d never done this before and I had no idea which gun to select, he pointed me to a 9mm Glock. Hunter also said he would provide me with a gun safety class before I actually shot it. Thank goodness for common sense.
I was really, really, really nervous but also very excited about shooting a hand gun for the first time. Hunter took me into a room where the gun safety classes were conducted. I sat down on the opposite side of the table from him and he showed me how to load the clip. I felt like a small child who was trying to tie her shoes for the first time. I was all thumbs. I was surprised at how difficult it was. Hunter was very patient with me and he didn’t laugh at me so I assumed he’d seen others who had fumbled through this part of the class before. I eventually managed to load the clip (and didn’t even break a nail) and finished the quick safety class so I could now move on to the “main part of the show.” He gave me a pair of safety glasses and a set of earmuffs to prevent damage to my hearing, and I was allowed to pick my own target. He set me up on the indoor range right next to someone who was shooting something really loud (Duh! All guns are loud). I don’t know what it was, but every time the guy next to me shot his weapon, I would nearly jump out of my skin. I kept nearly jumping out of my skin when the guy next to me fired his weapon, so Hunter moved me to a different stall further away. What a relief!
Hunter was still with me until I felt comfortable enough to shoot the gun on my own. Finally, I became comfortable enough to shoot solo. The first few times I shot the gun I was terrified. The gun was a bit too big for my hands so my hands got sore very quickly from the recoil. Also, my fingers got sore from reloading the gun clip. It only took five bullets at a time so I had to reload several times. After shooting the entire box of ammo, I was exhausted from the adrenaline that had being coursing through my body as soon as I walked into the place. Time for a margarita to wind down!
The gun range was packed by the time I left that day. Apparently, indoor gun ranges are all the rage. I admit, it was fun and I’ll probably do it again.

Goodbye 2014. You were exciting and boring and as usual, I learned a lot throughout the year. Thanks for the memories.

 

Texans are like snowflakes

Texans are like snowflakes - each one is unique but they all have a couple of things in common. No, they're not all white and made of water. Let me explain.

Now that I've been living in Texas for nearly three years, I've come to appreciate the uniqueness of Texans. Like most people in this country (I've lived in eight different states so I have a pretty good sample of this country and its people), they have spouses, or significant others, they have kids, they work hard, they own homes, they get drunk, they eat stuff that's bad for them, they are happy and joyful, they are sad and depressed, but what makes Texans truly unique from other people in this country, well, let me just say that it takes some getting used to. I will try my best to explain.

Texans have no desire to leave Texas. Not all Texans (I haven't met all of them because this is a big-ass state), but a lot of Texans I've met have lived here their entire lives and they have no desire to leave. Some of them (I've been shocked to meet so many) know little to nothing about the rest of our country. And they don't seem to have much of a desire to know anything else beyond the borders of Texas. I find that rather odd, as well as a bit narrow. Okay, that's not a bit narrow, that's really narrow. They're really missing out, in my opinion. This country is huge and very diverse - the geography and the people. It's a great big world out there. Get out of the state of Texas and explore you narrow Texans! You just might learn something and enjoy yourself while you're at it.

Texans love their guns. I know that can be said about a lot of Americans. But the gun culture here is mind boggling. There are huge signs on the side of the highways here in Texas (like the ones that warn you about accidents and amber alerts) that announce gun shows and tell you which exit to take to get there. WTF? The first time I saw one of those gun show announcements I thought, "Wow! That must be some very special gun show." Nope, it's a common occurrence I've discovered. That's both perplexing and disturbing to me.

Texans love their pickup trucks. And they love to drive them fast. What's that all about? My guess - left over cowboy culture, from when there were no paved roads and cattle would roam freely about the state. Some things just linger on in a society. Texans love their football. I cannot say that enough.

Texans love their football. I've never been a football fan. I've watched all kinds of sports. I used to be a baseball fan. I've never really liked football but after a while, you get kind of beat down by the fact that if you know nothing about football, and I used to freely admit it when someone here would ask, you are called un-American. If I had a dollar for every time I've been called un-American since I've moved here, I'd have a fistful of dollars. I was bored one day at work so I read the rules of football on Wikipedia. Now I know why I don't like football. There are all kinds of crazy rules and far too many to remember. Someone actually had to come up with all of those rules. Apparently, they had way too much time on their hands that day.

But you know, swimming upstream all of the time is exhausting. So, after feeling like a fish out of water (to continue with the fish analogy) for nearly three years, I've taken some steps to be more like a Texan.

In case you find yourself living in Texas (at least around the Houston area) and like me, you feel like you stick out like a sore thumb, try doing the following things:

Pay attention to football. By that I mean, know which teams are playing each week, and how the Texans are doing. If you want to make friends here and fit in with coworkers or have a conversation with someone at a bar, talk about football. Decide which team you are rooting for. At least pretend you're interested. Trust me, life is much easier.

Tell a Texan that you've recently been to a gun range and that you loved it. I know, it sounds insane at first, but I actually did this recently. I actually went to a gun range in Houston and rented a handgun and shot it. The next week, I told coworkers and family members here what I did. I told them all that I loved it and want to do it again. I told them I am considering buying my own handgun. Except for the coworker who is a transplant from California, they were all very interested in hearing about my recent gun range experience and most of them (not all of them, remember the uniqueness of snowflakes as well) had been to a gun range, owned their own handgun, and one coworker is an NRA member and teaches gun safety classes on the weekends. So unless you're completely against guns, I suggest doing what I did and going to a local gun range and renting a gun. It's important to talk about your experience positively, though. And truth be told, I actually did find it exciting. Scary, but exciting. And for those who care about such things, I rented a 9mm Glock. And for those concerned about my safety (or my sanity), I took a gun safety class first. I felt like a stooge trying to load the gun (it's harder than it looks) and it felt really awkward the first time I shot it, but after getting the hang of it, it was kind of fun. I might do it again, just saying.

Don't tell Texans that there are other states that are just as awesome as Texas. Don't go there. You will not only make an enemy, but they also won't believe you.

When it comes to owning a pickup truck, I got nothing. I have a very small sports car and love it. I'm not against pickup trucks, or people who own them, only the fact that Texans drive them like they're heading to a fire all of the time. Why are Texans all in a big hurry to get stuck in traffic? Traffic here in the Houston area has become very much like Los Angeles traffic. It sucks. Driving really fast isn't going to get you any place faster. It might get you killed and it's not good for your blood pressure, so why not slow down a bit? Smell the roses. Live another day to play with your kids or fight with your spouse. Again, just saying.

Okay, to summarize my thoughts on Texans and how to fit in:

1. Football. It's more than just a game in Texas. Have an opinion about football and be prepared to have long, long, frequent conversations about it.
2. Guns. They're a fact of life in Texas and are frequently a topic of conversation here. Get used to it.
3. There are other states in this country besides Texas that are just as awesome. No there are not and don't even think about mentioning that fact.
4. Pickup trucks. Sorry, I got nothing.

I hope my insights are helpful. You're welcome.

Texans Don't Dial 911

Texans are all fat, conservative, schizophrenics and their women have ugly ass toes. There. I’ve said. And I’m not apologizing. I’ve tried to reserve judgment for as long as possible but I’ve been in Texas for over a year now—fourteen months to be exact—and I’ve reached that conclusion by being around Texans nearly every day. You may have noticed that I didn’t use the adjective “redneck” when I described Texans. That’s because they’re not all rednecks. I’m originally from the South and I have family in North Carolina, so I know from rednecks. How did I arrive at this conclusion? Easy, I live in Texas. South Texas. And I’ve visited lots of different areas of Texas. I still haven’t been up to Dallas yet, but why should I go see for myself when I can get the lowdown on Dallas from a co-worker? “Dallas is a lot like Houston, except they’re snooty.” Hey, I’m just quoting. Let me explain myself here. First of all, I admit, not ALL Texans are fat. Just most of them. Hey, don’t blame them! The food in Texas is really, really good. And if ½ pound of BBQ ribs is delicious, then why not eat 5 pounds of them instead of just ½ pound? Sounds logical, until you try to buy pants off the rack at Kohl’s. I went to a small town near Austin called Lockhart over the weekend. Its claim to fame is it has some of the best BBQ restaurants, not only in Texas, but in the whole dang country! Now that’s quite a claim because we’ve all had great BBQ in other parts of the country. But BBQ in Texas is pretty near a religion. It is good. I tried the BBQ sausage and the BBQ pork ribs. Both highly seasoned and both very good. They believe their BBQ is so dang good, it doesn’t require sauce. So don’t look for sauce when you go to some of these places. If you MUST have sauce, bring your own damn sauce! Back to the fat part of my point. I sat down at a picnic style table in this giant room with my fresh, hot BBQ sausage and ribs, and looked around at my fellow Texans to see how they were enjoying their food. OMG. I have never seen so many HUGE people in one place in my life. And it wasn’t just a couple of them that were fat—there were entire families of fat folks. I’m talking morbidly obese! You get the picture. Texans love to eat. So do I but Christ in Heaven, put the fork down occasionally. Moving onto the conservative statement: Governor Rick Perry. I rest my case. Next, I’m going to address the schizophrenic adjective in my description of Texans. The majority of the Texans I’ve met (except for the crazy CEO of EnerSys where I worked when I first moved here who truly is schizoid and I’m not just being hyperbolic just ask any of my ex-coworkers) are pretty nice. They’re friendly, they are mostly helpful, and a lot of them smile and speak to you when they see you. They’re pretty good at conversation, even when they don’t have much to say. What I’m saying is, Texans are really freaking annoying but they’re likable at the same time. You know they’ve been threating to secede from the US forever. I’m pretty sure they aren’t really going to make good on that threat. And they have largest goddamned flags on the planet. And they’ll be the first to tell you about their goddamned giant flags and the fact that everything outside of Texas is just a suburb of Texas. But I digress. Here’s the crazy thing. Texans out of their cars (cars mean pickups, of course) are pretty nice. But Texans driving in their cars or pickups turn into total and complete jerks. Not just jerks but homicidal (and also suicidal) maniacs. They’re all mean and crazy when they get behind the wheel of a vehicle. The number of accidents around the Houston area is incredible. Multiple accidents involving multiple pileups on every freeway every single day. I’ve nearly been involved in several since I have to drive 20 miles each way to work and back home every day. It’s freaking scary around here. I’ve noticed that small cars, and especially since I recently bought and drive a sports car, really seem to piss them off. Giant trucks, medium sized trucks, small trucks, and lots of luxury cars just love to get on your ass until you feel like a little insect with a couple of your legs pulled off while the bully stands over you with his (or her) magnifying glass waiting for you to catch on fire. And if you don’t catch on fire, they will drive around you or pull in front of you but they will never use their signals to warn you. Is there something in the water in Texas? Why are you all such complete assholes when you’re behind the wheel of a vehicle? Is it in your DNA? Is it taught in driver’s training around here? Is it contagious? I still try to be a polite driver. Yes, living in Seattle for a long time has that effect on you. But I feel the anger when I’m nearly run over several times throughout my commute. There are times when I really want to be an asshole on the freeway too, but I know that I’ll wind up in the morgue like a lot of the other Texans that pull stupid moves like trying to take an exit ramp at the last second by dashing across 4 or 5 lanes on the freeway while everyone is driving 80 miles an hour and riding the car’s bumper that’s in front of them so there’s no way to slow down, let alone stop. Recently, one poor schmuck broke down on the freeway at night and got out of his car, after he’d pulled over to the far right lane. It was dark so the cars coming at him couldn’t see him or his car until it was too late. An SUV driving way too fast to slow down or stop was going to hit him. He had 2 choices: a) Let the SUV run over him or b) Jump off an overpass to his death. He chose b. What a horrible choice to have to make. I hope he died instantly when he hit the pavement below and didn’t feel too much pain. Makes me sad every time I think of him. Now I come to my last statement. Texas women have ugly ass toes. There’s a whole lot of high-heeled-wearing women in this part of the country. We all know what excessive wearing of high heels will do to your toes. You wouldn’t know that their toes are so ugly but occasionally they climb down off the high-heels and put on open-toed sandals. Oh the ugliness of the toes that’re sideways and bunched up on top of each other like Vienna sausages in a can! It’s so revolting that sometimes when I see these womens’ feet in the elevator while I’m riding up to the 19th floor where my cubicle is, I throw up in my mouth a little. Just a little. The funniest thing about Texans is how much they love their guns and their gun shows and their firing ranges. But the thing that makes me laugh the most is how you’ll see the title to my post everywhere. Outside stores, silk-screened on t-shirts, in their yards, and I think it’s stamped on their hearts: “We don’t dial 911.” Glad I could get all of that off my chest. Houston isn’t that bad, as long as you put a bag over its head. HA! I joke, I joke. Sort of…

Feeling the Heat

Saying it's hot here in Texas in the summer is a ridiculous understatement. There just aren't words to convey just how truly brimstone-like the weather is here in August. I got a rude awakening yesterday when I schlepped my be-suited, be-stockinged, be-heeled self a few blocks on foot to go to an interview in downtown Houston. Don't get me wrong - Houston is awesome. Museums, theater, restaurants, bars, shopping. It's all here. But I had no idea what I was in for when I parked in a garage a few blocks from the building where I would be interviewing. I haven't been downtown enough yet to understand how the addresses work on the streets. I walked one direction and it seemed like the addresses were going down. So I walked the other direction and seemed like the addresses started going up, but then they seemed to start going down again. I stopped a man who was rushing into a building (no doubt to escape the inferno-like heat of the Houston afternoon) and asked him which direction should I go for the address I was trying to find. He had no idea. He mumbled something about Main Street. Um. I didn't ask about Main Street. Perhaps he was doing some calculation in his head that I wasn't aware of and the only words he could access at the time were Main and Street. Or perhaps he'd been in the heat and sunshine too long and his brain had melted in his skull like a glob of pink goo. I could certainly relate to that. Perhaps Main Street was some kind of code and he wanted to see if I could figure out what he meant. Anywho, the extreme heat and relentless sun (I'm not complaining, just stating a fact!) were doing a number on my body. Especially my feet. I could feel my stockinged feet rubbing against my shoes and if it wasn't for the sweat my feet were producing, my shoes would've caught fire. Or my stockings might have melted. I knew I'd have blisters the size of quarters on my feet when I got home. I needed to find the address where I needed to be pronto before my hair (and clothes) caught fire. I finally walked far enough in the right direction and found the building I was looking for with about 10 minutes or so to spare. By the time I arrived for the interview, my clothes and face were soaking wet with perspiration. Was I going to make a great first impression or what? I pulled some tissues out of my purse and swabbed my face. I could've wrung at least a cup of water out of them. What do you say at a time like that when you are shaking hands and meeting potential employers for the first time and you look like you were just hit with a water balloon? Only thing you can. So THIS is what it's like in Houston in the summer. I'm sure not in Seattle anymore!! Ha-ha-ha. Sorry I look like I've just been dunked in a water tank. Could I have a glass of water, please? My tongue doesn't usually stick to the roof of my mouth like this but you know, it's about 1000 degrees outside and I walked a few blocks here. By the way, if you're ever in downtown Houston and you're walking across the street a bit too slow, don't be surprised if the delivery trucks (or anybody driving a trunk for that matter) nearly run you over and then curse at you for walking too slow. I guess it wouldn't have mattered to him if I told him I had blisters on my feet and that I was from Seattle. Nawwwww. Probably not. And a foot note to the story: I believe I got the job.