And it's goodbye to A&M?

I know that few of my readers share my obsession with college football, so I'll try to avoid talking about this too much, but I'm surprisingly emotional about the possibility that Texas and Texas A&M could end up in different conferences at the end of this Big XII shakeup.

Both my parents grew up in Texas and attended UT Austin. When I came along, they made sure I understood where to place my alliances: the very first joke I ever learned as a little girl was an Aggie joke, and I was dressed in burnt orange and taught to root against A&M practically from birth.

I can't imagine a football season in which Texas and A&M don't play each other. It would be like eating chips without queso or barbecue without sauce. The Texas/Texas A&M football rivalry is the third longest-running in the nation, and by far the oldest in Texas. Heck, Texas and A&M mention each other in our fight songs, for heaven's sake.

The thing is, A&M and Texas are like brothers: you want to beat up your brother, but you don't want anyone else to beat up your brother. You definitely don't want to stand around and watch it happen.

I have a feeling A&M would get a little bit beaten up in the SEC. Can't we just convince Arkansas to come back to the Big 12?

Because I'm starting to miss college football

1985

"What color team do we root for, Daddy?"

"The ones in burnt orange. They're the ones that are winning right now."

"What color is burnt orange?"

"It's like regular orange, only prettier."

"Shouldn't we root for the other ones? The ones in red? Because they're losing?"

"No Sandy, that's not really how it works."

Of dust and mud and poop

Dear Internets,

Over the past few months, I've been obsessed with the U.S. Drought Monitor website. Particularly, I've been obsessed with watching the drought severity in Texas.



As it has (finally) started raining again this fall, it has been nice to watch the part of the map over Travis County (Austin) get progressively lighter in color, rather than stay dark brown week after week like it did this summer. It has also been nice to watch the grass get greener and to see actual wildlife around occasionally.

Since I took horseback riding back up this summer, I've been taking a lesson once or twice a month at a riding stable near my house. The only downside to all the rain we've been having is that my lessons have been frequently canceled due to the rain.

This week, the weather and my schedule finally matched up, and I was able to go out for a trail ride. My riding instructor warned me that most of the ground was fairly dry, but that there were a couple of places where it was soupy so I should be careful.

I watched my step as I went to get Bart, the old gelding used for lessons. Most of the ground in his pen was fairly squishy, so I did my best to step on the dry parts. Just as I was about to reach Bart, I stepped on what I thought was a small, dry piece of manure. Then I learned a horrible lesson.

Apparently damp manure expands in size (a lot). As soon as I put my weight down on my foot, the ground collapsed beneath my feet, and I sank about a foot and a half into manure. I was literally knee-deep in poo.

It wasn't the best way to start the weekend, I suppose, but after I got myself out of the poop, we actually had a pretty fun trail ride. And now I know better than to toss the "knee deep in poo" expression around cavalierly, lest karma decide to teach me another lesson.

Have a wonderful weekend Internets!

Love,
Jane

Curiosity killed the Jane

Dear Internets,

In the past two days, I have almost committed two completely different random acts of curiosity that (apparently) could have resulted in government officials with guns and warrants busting down my door. I really need to remember that just because I *can* figure out how to do something doesn't mean I should actually do it. Darn me and my and my ability to always find the work-around I wasn't supposed to know about!

(I should probably not ever be allowed to have a job that gives me any responsibility or access to anything important. Actually, I probably shouldn't even be allowed near a computer...)

It kind of reminds me of a story one of my high school teachers told. Apparently, he and some friends figured out how to convert semi-automatic rifles into fully-automatic rifles (um.... I guess the best explanation I can give you is "this is Texas..?"). He said they came very close to being hauled off by ATF agents. Fortunately the agents realized (in Mr. R's words) that they "were just a bunch of dumbass kids who didn't know any better."

Just goes to show you that you that it is possible to accidentally land yourself in federal prison. Say no to the shiny buttons kids!

Love always,
Jane

Still kicking

Dear Internets,

I am alive. Sorry I went AWOL for a while. My life became consumed with spending time with my nephew and my new baby niece, semi-hibernating to avoid the heat, riding horses, and working the two jobs. Things have been good.

I am currently attempting to catch up on reading the hundreds of posts that have backed up in my Google Reader. I am looking forward to finding out what you've been up to.

Yours always,
Jane

Brrrrrrrrrrr!

Dear Internets,

I saw on the news today that it might not get above 1 degree Fahrenheit (-17C) in Chicago on Thursday.

Holy crap. I'm glad I live in Texas.

Stay warm, Internets.

Love,
Jane

Cold, sleepy, etc.

Dear Internets,

I am finding it impossible to concentrate on anything except how nice it would be to go home and snuggle in bed until Daylight Saving Time returns. How do those of you who live in colder/darker places than Texas survive the winter?

Yours curiously,
Jane

Hurricanes are only fun in Scorpion songs

Dear Ike,

Please be nice. You are gathering strength and heading straight for the Texas coastline, where one of my good friends (who lives in Corpus Christi, right by the bay) is currently in the process of not evacuating. Her line of reasoning (which I guess isn't totally illogical) is that the projected storm path follows the highway on which she, her boyfriend, and their dog and two cats would be traveling anyway.

It's not just Corpus I'm worried about. Sure, sometimes I like to gripe about Houston, but it's really not a terrible place. I mean, the pollution is partly due to the fact that the refineries there provide fuel for a large part of the rest of the country. Plus, Houston has pretty decent museums, and really, it's kind of interesting that someone could build a porn shop right next to a church.

The smaller towns on the coast are pretty cool too. Galveston is a great little island. The last time I visited was right after Hurricane Rita in 2005 - a lot of people there who evacuated for that storm (which didn't end up hitting Galveston) swore they would never do it again, no matter what the officials told them.*

*One woman told me that she and her boyfriend fought, broke up, and got back together seven times as they attempted to navigate the evacuation traffic. She said she kicked him out of the car near San Antonio, but made him get back in after she realized he was moving faster walking than she was driving. "And when we got back, all that had happened was that my potted plant had blown over. My dumbass boyfriend probably just knocked it over running to the car on our way out."

The thing about Galveston (and a lot of the Texas coastline) is that a lot of the people there live from paycheck-to-paycheck. If they spend money on gas to evacuate (and lose potential hours of work at their jobs), that's just money they don't have for groceries and rent.

If it seems like I'm hoping that you'll come ashore further east, I'm not. Those parts of Texas and Louisiana are barely recovering from the effects of Rita and (to a lesser extent) Katrina. I just want you to take a breather, and surprise us all by weakening a little. Dump a little rain on us, then head on up to Arkansas. I hear it's becoming a popular place to retire; you should check it out.

Sincerely,
Jane