Charlie Brown Look At These Pumpkins

Keeping the stem area dry will protect the pumpkin.

It's almost October and thus begins my favorite season. I love just about everything about fall. The cooler weather, Halloween, football games, festivals, and of course, pumpkins. My husband gently scolds me each year for my collection of pumpkins. Each time I bring another one home to put on my porch, my husband says, "another one?" But he knows it's useless to argue. Some people collect cats. Some collect shot glasses. I collect pumpkins to decorate my yard and home from October through Thanksgiving.

Big, but not the biggest.

Today I journeyed to the local farmers market named Jimmy Woods. It's right off of the main drag in Rockport, Texas, and features everything locally grown including honey, birdseed, pickled okra, onions, watermelon, and of course, pumpkins. Huge pumpkins. I was giddy.

This is where I met Rudy. As Rudy and I talked pumpkins, I learned two things. Rudy knows pumpkins and he's a prankster. Rudy has worked at Jimmy Woods for 25 of the 32 years the market has been open. As I walked among the ghost, orange and heirloom pumpkins Rudy said, "Be careful. Snakes like to slither between the pumpkins." I jumped back and Rudy busted out laughing. He slapped my shoulder saying "just kidding." I told him, "oh sure. Just pick on the city slicker."

Rudy said that the market just sold its largest pumpkin, topping 175 pounds, to a man in Corpus Christi for his home.

Jimmy Wood's pumpkins come from a farm near Lubbock, Texas, where market employees go to select the largest, healthiest pumpkins for each year.

Rudy the prankster.

When I asked Rudy if it's too early for pumpkins fearing they would rot before Halloween, he gave me this tip. "As long as you keep them dry, they will be fine. If it rains, wipe the water off of the pumpkin, especially around the stem area. Always keep the stem area dry."

So, I bought my first pumpkin of the season today and put it by my front door. This year, I'm going to pace myself buying pumpkins. But, just as I was thinking that, Rudy told me they get new produce in every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

Wondering if I can give some of my pumpkins a coastal spin? Perhaps put shells in for ears and use coral for hair? I'll let you know how it turns out.

The Wondering Texan

I love all pumpkin varieties.

Sixteen Years and Counting

Sixteen years ago today, my husband and I married. And much to my mother's horror, we didn't get married in a church. Instead, we opted to marry in a home built of stone sitting on a few tree-dotted acres facing a large lake. It was very quaint with about 140 of our friends and family in attendance.

We met on a blind date and married almost exactly 10 months later. This fact has stunned some of our friends.

"You're kidding," a friend of mine recently said as we walked through a park. "I would never allow my children to do that."

But, we were older, I told her. Both of us just entering our thirties and having weathered more than a fair share of lame dates. "Still, that's not enough time to know someone," she said stopping our walk. "Ya'll were running on hormones."

Maybe so, but the proof is in the pudding. We're still here while some of our friends have entered second marriages. Looking back at our history, I can't imagine starting anew. First, men are just too hard to train. Secondly, we have spent most of our adult lives together and have built some great memories. We've eaten lobster on Martha's Vineyard; snow skied in Colorado; created two children; bought and sold homes; almost got stuck in snow trying to drive up on a spring day Washington's Mount St. Helen's, and tried to canoe down the Guadalupe River in the Texas Hill Country. We've had some good laughs and some good cries. And with the exception of a few things, I wouldn't change much about him.

So, here's to my husband who still makes me laugh after 16 years.

P.S.
I've got to tell you a quote from him. Last night he told our son, "I'm giving you advice, you don't need to respond." I love that quote!

Wondering if I can use that quote on hubby the next time I give him advice?

The Wondering Texan

Hummingbirds Creating a Buzz Down Here

Currently, my little town is humming as thousands of hummingbirds flutter through making their way to Mexico and Central America for the winter.

Pretty as a picture

Hummingbirds are big business down here in South Texas. And I have to admit, they're a lot cuter than a red fish or seagull, so it's easy to see the charm. Most coming through here are the Ruby-Throated hummingbird.

They weigh about 3 grams

All through town people have put up hummingbird feeders. We have five in our yard filled with sugar water.  And last weekend, the town hosted the annual Hummer Celebration. Buses of folks made their way down streets looking at the tiny birds, listening to lectures and learning how to photograph the rapid movers.

After watching these birds for the last couple of weeks, three things I have observed.

1) They are really mean to each other
2) They are very territorial
3) They drink as much sugar water as Southerners drink sweet tea

Beyond that, I'll have to recite for you some data from The Hummer/Bird Study Group Inc. in Alabama. Some basic facts are:

Tail length and fluffiness tell if it's a young bird

Length  - 3.5 inches
Weight - 3.1 - 3.4 grams (28 grams = 1oz.)
Body temp - 105 - 108 degrees
Flight speed - About 30 mph normal speed and 50 mph escape speed

Measuring the beak. They cover the bird with pantyhose.

So, all of this has been fun to watch. But Saturday, we got a rare opportunity. We held a hummingbird in our hands. As I was walking outside to retrieve the paper, I noticed one on the sidewalk just lying there. "Oh, there's a dead hummer," I told a passing neighbor. She informed me that a block over the avian group is banding and recording hummers. As I turned around, I noticed the fallen hummer slightly moving, lifting his tiny head and a wing outstretched. OMG, it's alive! So I rustled up my husband to come help. We were on a rescue mission. We took the little tyke to the banding station in hopes they could help. Turns out, hummers stun themselves pretty frequently by hitting windows and walls. After a few minutes and some sugar water, it was ready to move and flew up into the air.

We watched as they banded the little legs, recorded weight, beak length, gender, and wing span. We also learned how they are caught. It's pretty simple actually. They use cages similar to squirrel cages with a feeder placed inside. Then a fishing line is attached to the door. When a hummer flies in, someone pulls the line snapping the door shut. We asked if they pair up, and no, they don't. In fact, male hummingbirds are pretty worthless in terms of the family unit. They only fertilize eggs, then off to the next adventure. The females care for the eggs and babies, build nests, and basically, take care of all domestic duties.

I got to hold a few in the palm of my hand. And although I would have never put "hold a hummingbird" on my "Bucket List," I'm so glad I got the chance to experience it. They don't peck, scratch or urinate on the hand like a lot of animals.

Next year's Hummingbird Celebration will be Sept. 13 - 16.  You've gotta check it out.

Wondering how many types of hummers there are? I've got to Google that.

The Wondering Texan

Like, totally awesome! It's Been 30 Years.

A few weeks ago I received a "save the date" card in the mail. Save the date for my 30th high school reunion next summer. Like, oh my God! Totally awesome!

Love the Risky Business glasses. Circa: 1984.

The "girl" heading the reunion committee is doing a great job of herding us cats. In this electronic age, reconnecting with people is easier than ever. The Class of 1982 is on Facebook, has a Web site, a blog and message board. And, of course, there's snail mail.

So, this got me tripping on the '80s. No, I didn't pull out my satin pants and add-a-bead necklace. My husband is very thankful for this! But as I look through the high school annuals, the '80s are like totally back in style! The boys have pre-Zac Effron or Justin Bieber haircuts. The girls have loose curls, platform shoes and tight jeans. Preppy clothes rule with Izod and oxford shirts. Many young ladies have names like Mary, Ann, Lisa, Karen and Becky. Common guy names are Mark, Mike, Joe, David, and Jim. Not a one Taylor, Austin, Tyler, Mattie, Harper or Kennedy in the bunch.

Don't you just love the colors and graphics!

In my box of '80s stuff, I found old record albums from The Kinks, The Joe Jackson Band, The B-52's, Adam Ant, and Prince. Remember buying these and then ripping off the plastic to see the inside record jackets? Photos of the band, cool artwork, and sometimes, a poster were neatly tucked inside. I need to download some of these classics since we don't have a record player anymore.

And read on. I found some old high school newspapers. You'll love this. A coupon for three games of Putt Putt for $2 per person. An advertisement for Western Savings & Loan Association to open a bank account with only $5. There's a "now hiring" ad for a restaurant paying $3 per hour. Or how about a Mexican lunch for $1.50 with student ID back in October 1978.

Nationally, the Class of 1982 is kind of a lost group, I think. Born in late 1963 and 1964, technically I think we are the last year of Baby Boomers. However, many of us weren't born when Kennedy was assassinated. We didn't go crazy over the Beatles. We barely remember Vietnam and it wasn't really talked about in school. Watergate is a faint memory. So, it's kind of hard to relate.

Generation X doesn't really claim us either.

We watched MTV launch and sang to Duran, Duran; Madonna; and Prince, and raced down the boulevard in Cutlasses. We are, figuratively, Ronald Reagan's children. He ran in our first presidential election. And we had some great movies: The Breakfast Club; Raiders of the Lost Ark; Raging Bull; Raising Arizona; Terms of Endearment; Sixteen Candles; When Harry Met Sally; The Big Chill; and a personal favorite, Say Anything. Who can forget John Cusack and the boom box scene? 

As I'm flipping through my old scrapbook with its now yellow pages, I see a letter (yes, a real letter) from a friend writing from Camp Mystic in Hunt, Texas, in 1978. She says, "I wore my Andy Gibb shirt the first day of camp and everyone loved it...Sunday night they showed a movie Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid with R. Redford and P. Newman! My friend Marianne had to peel my face off of the screen!" Ah, don't you just miss teen crushes?

Well, I'd better go and put up all of this stuff before my husband has me committed.

Wondering if I can find my add-a-bead necklace and start wearing it again.

The Wondering Texan

Homecoming - Small Town Style

The social butterfly and her friend Lisa.

Last Friday night, my family and I went to the Pirates football game which was also their homecoming. It was a thrill for all of us. Our daughter, sporting a huge mum with bells and ribbons, stayed with us for exactly 10 minutes. Then she ditched us.

So, taking cues from our social butterfly, I told my husband, "I'm going to look for Mimi." He wasn't too against it because Mimi's husband is a fishing guide. So, my husband was totally supportive of me finding Mimi and her husband George.

Mimi and I found each other, and typical of most married couples, we women talked entirely through the first half until their son came on the field playing the drums. The guys sat there bleacher coaching. As my husband likes to say, this is why we are a perfect couple. I do all of our socializing and he can stand in a corner and drink beer. Our son also ditched us, preferring to be close to the railing in hopes of catching a Pirate t-shirt and ball shot through an airgun.

Getting ready to storm the field

At the concession stand, Mimi introduced me to another friend of hers. I can't remember his name, but I do remember he asked, "Do you and your husband drink?" I joked with him, "Yes, but you should ask 'How much?"

Me pirates won 33 - 7. Ahoy!

This comment brings me to the difference of generations. Last weekend, my dad and step mom visited. I told them that for my generation, people always ask about drinking. They agreed and think it's funny. Then on Saturday as my husband was playing golf, I accepted a dinner invitation for that night from a neighbor who is almost two generations ahead of us.  As I told our neighbor Judy the "Do you drink" comment, she and her husband said, "Yeah, your generation is funny about that. For your generation, everything is about moderation." My husband and I just looked at each other, blinked, and then accepted our mojitos. The next morning, I was dragging. It's really sad when people almost 20 years older party harder than you.

Wondering if the younger generations think us 40-somethings are drags too?

The Wondering Texan

Is Anything Worse Than a Boring Haircut?

The haircut I want.

Yesterday, I got my hair cut for the third time and colored for the second time in over a year. Since I've been trying to grow my hair after chemo, it's safe to say that I'm more nervous than a football coach watching his star quarterback roller blade down the hills of San Francisco.

The hairdresser was referred by someone in my community who wrote in a newsletter;, "it's the best haircut I've ever received...and I'm 73." Well, that should have been a clue.

So I went to Jack who looked to be about 60 years old, has grandchildren, and kind of a comb-over in the back.

As he fingered through my hair he asked, "Is your hair always this curly?" And then the final nail, "What color is your hair naturally?"

Well, I couldn't take it anymore and decided to tell him my sad little story. The guilt factor still works in my favor although I know I'm on borrowed time.

After a while we decided on a rich brown color with carmel highlights. I love the color. The cut is a different story. He blew the cut out and puffed it out so that I looked like Laura Bush. He told me it's a "foundation" haircut.

The haircut I got.

That night, my husband came home and exclaimed, "What did you do? I liked it longer."

"I know," I told him. "I look like Laura Bush."

The next day I went to water aerobics and the ladies noticed the cut. "I know, I look like Laura Bush," I giggled. They looked at me and asked, "What's wrong with that? We love Laura."

I like Laura too. I even once heard her speak when she was the governor's wife. But I don't want to look like her at age 47. She didn't even look like this at 47. I want to look like Dharma in the old '90s show Dharma and Greg. Remember that show? Jenna Elfman plays a child of hippies who has the cutest haircut and is married to a Republican. I want her hair in a warm shade of brown.

Maybe Jack got confused. Maybe he got Jenna confused with Laura. Maybe next time I'm in Dallas I can shock a posh restaurant hostess and say, "I'd like a table please. My name is Laura."

Wow, this actually might work to my advantage.

Wondering if Jack really knows what he has created?

The Wondering Texan

 

Ready for the Coastal Three-Dayers

One of the colorful signs in historic downtown

The upcoming Labor Day weekend got me thinking about everyone who will have Monday off from work. And everyone who won't.

Living in a coastal town for almost two months has taught me that when everyone else is off, many locals are hard at work. And those of us who aren't going to a job this weekend have work of another kind -- company's coming.

The local barber wants you to visit.

Grocers, barbers, fishing guides, golf course grounds keepers, hotel stewards and liquor sellers have been preparing for days for the out-of-towners, most whom will be arriving within the next 24 hours. Neighbors ask, "who's coming in this weekend over at your house?" In our case, my dad and stepmother. They're great, and they are staying in a hotel. I think they prefer not sharing a bathroom with our 10-year-old son. When our daughter asked why, I explained. She said, "Aw, come on." Then I asked her, "well, do you want to share a bathroom with your brother?" Not even a 13-year-old wants to share the latrine with a 10-year-old boy. Case closed.

One of the old murals in downtown.

Since this is our third set of guests in six weeks, we have quickly developed the "go to" list of entertainment options noting variations for age, likes and dislikes, and abilities. This weekend, the "boys" are going fishing. Us "gals" will hit the art galleries. The bar has been stocked and the fresh shrimp bought. Last night, much to the kids' opposition, we made them shower and wash their hair. "So your grandparents won't confuse you with the shrimp," I told them.

When Tuesday arrives, the entire town will let out a collective sigh. It will once again return to the sleepy town by the bay. That is until Thanksgiving and the arrival of the Winter Texans.

Wondering if I should buy some crab too?

The Wondering Texan