My Perspective; Chapter 3: In Which I add to That Which was Written

I knew I was forgetting something noteworthy regarding New Mexico. Very close to the Texas border, we began to see our first signs of extensive life, and smell it too.

New Mexico, where there are millions of cows in one single pen, (or two or three)

New Mexico, where said cows truly do seem to believe that the grass  (non-existent) is greener (or browner) on the other side of the fence.

It was absolutely hilarious to see hundreds of thousands of cows sticking their heads through the fence and trying to reach the ground to eat…(although, I’m pretty sure that’s the way they were supposed to eat since there were a couple of guys scatter hay on the outside…but, it was still funny)

See what I mean!? (Picture courtesy of Google Images)

Anyway, on to West Texas.

I had been told that Texas is a large state. I believe it. It took us nearly three full driving days to cross it. West Texas was almost as boring as New Mexico. There was a bit more greenery I think, but not enough to count for much. As we really got into it though, it did begin to get more interesting.

West Texas, where there are oil drills moving automatically up and down and up and down. They looked like robots. They also looked as though they had a boring job. Up and down and up and down. One couldn’t help but wondering if they would ever accomplish anything in their lives.

West Texas, where I first saw the famous bluebonnets. And now I know why it’s famous. Goodness, they’re beautiful. If I’m ever rich, they will be in my dream landscaping.

Side Note: Local citizens throughout the south often didn’t know what their wildflowers were. It was very sad. Texas had some yellow wildflowers fields of it, and New Mexico had some…pink? Ones, and Louisiana had pink ones and no one knew what they were.

We stayed in Fort Stockton the first night in Texas. It was there that we first met up with our sub-adventure. A thunderstorm. It was very very very cool. Up where I live, thunderstorms come maybe once every two years, they last for 10 minutes, and you may or may not see lightening.

It also hailed. Large, pea-size hail. That was pretty cool too. (Especially since we were inside and safe from getting hit.) It hailed for maybe 15 minutes and then the sun came out. We watched a stunning sunset, (I didn’t get a picture, but my grandparents did, but I don’t have it…yet  :D)

After the sun set, it began to storm. The lightening was purple! Up here it’s always kind of blue-ish. It was gorgeous. And there were great big claps of thunder and heavy rain. I loved it. And you’ll be hearing more about it later because this particular storm followed us, with greater and greater intensity, all the way to Mississippi!

So, there you have West Texas! See ya tomorra!

My Perspective; Chapter 2: In Which I speak of my Travels Through New Mexico

New Mexico, where there are beautiful roadside yellow poppies scattered here and there.

New Mexico, where everything is flat, dry, dusty, and barren

(Picture stolen from Google) It's the pineapple palm from Arizona.

New Mexico, where the palm trees are two feet high and the flowers on the palm trees are an additional six or seven feet high. (it may have been a 'palm yucca.')

New Mexico, where I now see the beauty and charm of a mesa with my own eyes

New Mexico,  where there’s a small town by the highway. So small that it consists only of a single street highly advertised as ‘Main Street’ where there are 5 buildings all in a row with false fronts.

New Mexico, where the huge billboards are every 20 feet for several miles before the exit

New Mexico, where the traffic lights are placed horizontally on the poles. It made me feel distinctly that I was in a foreign place. (Frankly, I don’t think they’re as safe, because your eye is not always attracted to the light in directly in front of you, but more often towards the one two or three streets down.)

New Mexico, where there are bars on the windows and a general feeling of un-safeness in the real towns.

New Mexico, where the population is almost 100% Indian

New Mexico, where said population is highly obese. (I could pick out the tourists from this… And I’m not being racist, I’m just stating my observations :D)

New Mexico, where I didn’t get any pictures because it’s difficult to do at 63 mph. By the way, for the whole trip, with a few exceptions, we did cruise control at 63mph. :D

New Mexico, where I was never more glad to see the Texas border because I was not at all, (other than the 

mesas) impressed with New Mexico. I don’t think I would want to live there.

Also, I thought you’d all like to know that I, the adamant won’t-take-a-nap-er who has never taken a real nap in my life, took a nap almost every single day of my trip, and actually fell asleep too.

My Perspective: Chapter 1; In Which I Speak of the Desert Among Other Things

They say the best place to start is at the very beginning. I believe that. So, I launch into the story of the wedding trip, with the beginning. As some of you may know, I traveled to Phoenix first to drive to Mississippi with my Grandparents. For this reason, I left nearly two weeks before the wedding. It was my first real trip by myself. Going through airport security was relatively easy, although I did have to step out of line for a brief moment because I had forgotten to put my toothpaste in the liquids bag. Thanks to wonderful parental directions, I navigated the tram/train thing with ease, and reached my gate in plenty of time. (Thankfully, I had no interactions whatsoever with the dreaded TSA)

Upon boarding my plane, I discovered with great pleasure that I would not be seated next to creepy and/or noisy/rude people. The couple beside me were elderly, pleasant, thin, (always a good thing in those cramped seats) and kept largely to themselves. I was almost the last person on the plane, and the last off. (It comes of sitting at the back of the plane.) I subsequently discovered that most of the airplane’s occupants where either very elderly or young families. I think this is because they were either retired grandparents or grandkids going to visit their retired grandparents. (with a few who may have been going to spring training.)

The most interesting airplane moments on the way down:

I was reading a WW2 book, when the gentlemen next to me peered over my shoulder.

“Ah! Are you reading that for history, or just because you like it”

“I just really enjoy history”

Shortly afterwards, he pulled out his own book. (I guess he got tired of his crosswords :D) He was obviously very excited to let me know:

“See, I’m reading history too!” (His was Rule Britanicca or something, and mine was Operation Mincemeat…:D)

The other interesting moment took place when we were landing.

The young family, a mom and two or three young boys) seated behind me had been fairly quiet throughout the 

flight. When we began to descend however, they became very excited about several things.

Boy1 to girl?: We left Porky home. Poor Porky. (insert long monologue about Porky)

Then,

Boy1: Agh! My ears are popping.

Boy2: Yes! It has something to do with your saliva! (insert long monologue regarding the medical/scientific explanation of popping ears as relates to saliva.) Whether true or not, it’s funny. If not true, funny because of it. If true, funny because an 8-10 year-old can explain it so well)

When I landed, and connected with my grandparents, I found myself talking to myself in my brain. It was rather like a running commentary on just about everything. And, I found myself doing it for the entirety of the trip. From here on, I will transcribe this commentary in as accurate a manner as possible.

“Arizona is beautiful! Oh! A white barked tree. My favorite. Wait, it’s only white partway up.

‘Grandpa, why are those trees white only a little bit’

‘Those are citrus trees. The paint them to keep the sun off.’

!!!

“Oh, so those are mesquite trees over there, I’ve always read about those, and now I’m seeing them.

“Wow, the air smells so good. Must be those orange trees over there. It smells like spring. I love spring. It’s my favorite.

“Hey, it’s not too warm like I thought it might be. It feels like summer! Ha! I’ll bet it’s snowing in Washington! (it was)

The day after I got to Phoenix, my granparents took me to the Sonoran Desert, to the White Tanks (National?) Park. Here, we took a half-mile walk through the desert. There were many different kinds of cactus. But, my favorite were the Saguaro. My Grandma made a comment about how there weren’t very many two-armed saguaro like they show in all the pictures (in fact, the only classic saguaro I found was the one on the Arizona licence plate). I also found myself naming the cactus and trees.

"Tall Saguaro"

Short Saguaro

Baby Arm Saguaro

Celebrating Saguaro

Beautiful Tree. It had white, soft, fuzzy balls in the center of the yellow.

"What's the Right Perspective" Saguaro

One Arm Saguaro

My Grandparents! Don't they look purty!?

Holy...I mean, Holey Saguaro

The Squid

Desert Military (Otherwise known as the jumping choia)

Smiling Saguaro

Mistletoe hanging up there!

Frowning Saguaro

See, there are other types of cactus. The small round looking one is a fish-hook cactus.

The One-eyed Monster Ironwood tree.

When we left, all I could think of was:

“Arizona, where the only (pretty much) two-armed cacti are the ones on the license plates.”

Throughout my time spent in Arizona I would think things using that type of phrase.

“Arizona, where there are golf courses on every corner.”

“Arizona, where there are parking spaces! for golf carts at  the local grocery stores and businesses.” (I got to 

drive a golf cart. It was fun!)

“Arizona, where there are palm trees that look like giant pineapples. (those were my favorite palms, followed by the great big tall ones)

“Arizona, where there is no such thing as grass, (except on the golf course) but rather a reddish gravel.

“Arizona, where there are indoor-type decorations outside.

“Arizona, where wood must be scarce since there isn’t a single house made of it. (It’s all stucco, or sometimes that sheet-metal-ware-house material)"

We left Arizona three days after I got there. On our way to the border, we traveled most of the way through the desert, and I did actually see two or three two-armed saguaro. As we left the desert and the cities, the palm trees became much smaller. If I didn’t know Arizona gets much hotter than it was while I was there, I would say I could live there.

March! 2! 3! 4!

I just thought you'd all like to know.

Today, is my half-birthday! Also, it is the five year anniversary of:   http://servantofjoy.blogspot.com/2010/11/stories-of-my-life-pride-goes-before.html 

Furthermore, it is just 5 days until I leave for my big trip to my big brother's wedding!

So happy half-almost-going-to-leave-for-a-few-weeks-birthday to me!

Oh, that reminds me. This blog is taking a vacation. Incidentally, said vacation coincidentally coincides with my own personal vacation! :D

The Drama of the Coat

Once upon a time, there was a little girl who went to a great big place that was kind of like a party. At least, there were lots of people, so it must have been a sort of a party.

This party thing was in the middle-to-end of winter. So, just about everybody wore coats. It even snowed!

The little girl had a beautiful black coat with many distinguishing marks upon it. Such as a broken belt loop, a large collar, and important identification in the button-up pockets.

The little girl carefully placed her coat down with her brothers things, then she went off to mingle with the many people.

At the end of the day, the girl raced to the spot where her coat was, snatched it up, slung it over her arm, and raced to the car. You see, she was doing something else that night, and didn't want to be late.

So, she went home and had dinner, and then, she was getting really late, so she hurriedly put her coat on, and ran to where she was going; somewhere not far away.

A few hours later, she put her coat on again, and walked, more leisurely home. She had been home a few minutes when she happened to put her hand in her coat pocket; the one that was supposed to have her important identification in it.

Alas and alack! It wasn't there! She searched the other pocket, and then, she realized with a great shock, that  this was not even her coat! What could have happened!?

She raced back to the place not far away, thinking that perhaps she had accidentally made the switch there. But no, the people there had never seen the coat.

With a sinking feeling, she realized that the switch must have been made at the sort-of party. And, said party could very well have be over.

Nearly in tears, (said important identification would have cost much money to replace) she went back to the party thing. There, she found with great joy, that not only was the party not quite over, but, the people knew what had happened. I had taken an  acquaintance's coat, acquaintance had taken a mutual friend's coat, and  mutual friend had taken my coat. What a mix-up!

Now, I have my own coat back. I think I am the only one of the three to have theirs back as yet. I still don't know what or how the whole thing actually happened. But, it just goes to show you what one small thing that one small person does can affect many people around.

Common Courtesy?

Where has it gone?

I will never forget the guy, in the singular because he's the only one who has ever done so in my experience, who stood up when I entered the room to shake his hand, and stood up when I left. Honestly, it's just a really nice gesture to a lady.

I appreciate that my Dad taught me and my brothers these rules regarding seat assignments...
        1: If the seats are all taken, and a lady enters the room, guys get up!
        2: If the seats are or are not taken, and there is a lady standing up, guys offer up your seat.
        3: If there are no seats available, and you know where you can get one, go get it for a lady.
        4: By the way, this doesn't only apply for ladies. If there is a parent or adult significantly older than yourself in the room, give 'em your seat. And ladies should also get up for older adults.

And hey, what about opening the door for someone?
      In the olden days of yore, long ago, it was typically only the gentlemen that opened the door for a lady. But, really now, it's just polite to open or hold the door for someone either carrying something, or following right behind you; whether it's a lady or not.

When I was little, Dad always had himself, or one of my brothers on the outside, closest to the road, when we walked.

And what about those other things. After all, a gentleman should be a gentleman, but a lady should also deserve to be called a lady.

If you're at someone's house and they're in the middle of a project, it's polite to offer your help, or, just pitch in without asking, just so long as you know what you're doing!

So much for today's dose of info, tips, and other miscellaneous word gadget stuff.

Signing off!

A Blessing

So, I have to say, I absolutely love the people God has in my life right now. All of them. But this week, I have one particular awesome family in mind.

I have been so privileged this week (and next week) to spend some time with this family during the birth of their baby daughter, who is absolutely adorable, like her mother. :)

Also with their son, who is also adorable, and calls me 'Abbu' and calls sister 'Asis.'

Also with their parents, who inspire me with their example of parenting and husband/wifeing. (hehee, spell check actually thinks 'wifeing' is a word.) :D

Anyway, I just had to share that with you all! It's positively fun and awesome and cool and fun and awesome.