Things I Miss About Texas:
1. HEB
*Now why would I miss a chain grocery store? Because. Unlike many things within the state of Texas I detest, I have ALWAYS for some unknown reason loved HEBs. When I lived in Del Rio, it was mostly because it was something familiar (a real grocery store, not a pretend one like they had on base or Walmart. I loath Walmarts for the most part.) They had good produce and I'd spend my Friday mornings buying fresh fruits and veggies. When we returned to Texas, we did all our shopping at HEB because once more, the base store failed at life. (Seriously, the only good base commissary we've seen was at in IL. Seriously. The one in AK was well stocked, but priced similar to Fred Meyer).
2. Four Zone Weather
*While they failed at life at predicting when it'd rain sometimes (Weather man: It will not rain today! Ireland Scott: *looks out window and wonders what the water falling from the sky is if it's not rain*) I like the fact they had Doppler and could somewhat tell me the various weather in the various sections.
*tries to think of other things besides Target she misses about Texas at the moment and fails.*
Thing I Do Not Miss About Texas:
1. Humidity.
2. Access roads along side the interstate.
3. Their inability to merge.
4. Heat.
5. Bugs.
6. Did I mention the access roads?
7. It's hot there. And it doesn't rain enough. But it's humid. (Didn't I say that already? I did. I guess my list on things I do not miss is short as well.)
Things I Miss About Alaska:
1. The weather (all times of year. I like it.)
2. Their lack of highways and access roads.
3. Their local news.
4. The weather man who never knew what was going on and it was adorable because there's no Dopplar up there so he kind was just guessing anyways. (Weather guy: It might be snowing. Or not. I'm not sure. We'll see! Ireland Scott: Looks out window and laughs because it's snowing. Quite a bit.)
Things I Do Not Miss:
1. The dirt and tiny rocks they used on the roads in the winter that never seemed to go away.
Things I like about OK at the moment...
1. Lack of humidity.
2. It's better than the Dirt Hole.
3. No access roads!
4. The town I'm located within doesn't even have an interstate, so duh, no access roads.
5. There is an Old Navy and Lowes. Woot.
6. There are plenty of Mexican restaurants to keep Pilot boy happy.
Things I Do Not Like:
1. MILK IS LIKE FIVE DOLLARS A GALLON. WTF?
2. The cheapest place to buy things is Walmart and there is no Target.
3. Seriously, who decides the price of food in this place? And why am I paying full sales tax of food? What is wrong with you OK, I thought you were a red state, don't you hate taxes? Or did I learn that wrong?
4. It's hot. (like 100 plus, but it's not humid. Or it wasn't. It MIGHT rain today, so it's humid.)
5. The way they pronounce ALTUS during their ENTIRE state WIDE weather forecast on the news. Seriously, they do the ENTIRE state in board strokes. While I understand this, they never talk about where I am. Just ALTUS. And they say it all WRONG.
So, all in all, I hate very minor things. Right?
Showing posts with label dirt hole raving. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dirt hole raving. Show all posts
10 July 2013
12 April 2013
No way, Jose
Today, Pilot Boy sent me a text asking if I wanted to move to the Dirt Hole.
I said, "Over my dead body."
"How about for $10,000?"
"No. You can't pay me enough to go back."
Granted, then I began thinking....I've been there before. I know where things are, I know where to go to get things and I know how things work.
Then I remembered: It's the Dirt Hole. It's literally a dirt hole. I hate dirt. I'm not a big fan of holes.
So, I came back to my first thought: No way, Jose.
I still have this unsettling feeling, though, that at some point...I'll have to go back there and then I'll be trapped there. Again. Granted, it wasn't like it was THAT horrible, but the reasons it wasn't THAT horrible last time around won't be there next time.
Someone once said, while in the Dirt Hole, if you're happy to leave, you'll be back.
I cheered loudly the day we left.
I mockingly cheered when I came back to Texas.
I almost cried when I left Alaska.
I sighed sadly when I pulled out the shorts and it was February.
I'm not meant for hot locations. I seriously am meant to live where it's cold and dark. I thrive there.
The Dirt Hole is hot. The sun is bright. And storms go around it. (Storms don't even want to go to the Dirt Hole.)
I said, "Over my dead body."
"How about for $10,000?"
"No. You can't pay me enough to go back."
Granted, then I began thinking....I've been there before. I know where things are, I know where to go to get things and I know how things work.
Then I remembered: It's the Dirt Hole. It's literally a dirt hole. I hate dirt. I'm not a big fan of holes.
So, I came back to my first thought: No way, Jose.
I still have this unsettling feeling, though, that at some point...I'll have to go back there and then I'll be trapped there. Again. Granted, it wasn't like it was THAT horrible, but the reasons it wasn't THAT horrible last time around won't be there next time.
Someone once said, while in the Dirt Hole, if you're happy to leave, you'll be back.
I cheered loudly the day we left.
I mockingly cheered when I came back to Texas.
I almost cried when I left Alaska.
I sighed sadly when I pulled out the shorts and it was February.
I'm not meant for hot locations. I seriously am meant to live where it's cold and dark. I thrive there.
The Dirt Hole is hot. The sun is bright. And storms go around it. (Storms don't even want to go to the Dirt Hole.)
11 March 2013
Hazards of Driving
Well, it was that time of year again...or time of my life, rather.
I packed myself up, threw it all into the Monstrosity and headed back down the Alaskan Highway-- only I changed it up and instead of spending weeks on end (or so it seemed) mucking through Canada, I didn't bother trekking across the country and instead took a sharp dive southward and kept going till I hit...Texas.
I hate Texas. And not just because I spent a year living in a dirt hole. No, I just...dislike it strongly.
I'm currently suffering from culture shock. Not all that surprising considering where I came from. I always seem to suffer from culture shock, or rather reverse culture shock. Going back to where I came always throws me for a loop. When I get somewhere odd, the culture shock never really gets me. When I went to Scotland, I adjusted easily. It was when I came back that was hard. It took months for me to feel at ease again and not constantly thinking, "That's wrong..."
When I left the Dirt Hole all those moons ago and went back to Chicagoland, it was the same thing. I was overwhelmed by the cars, people, stop signs, speed limits and where I was. I grew up in the area. It's seared into my mind's eye to the point it's easy for me to call up areas and write stories about them without needing Google Maps. And yet, I drove around with my Texas plated car and got passed on suburban streets for going too slow (also known as the speed limit) and beeped at when I actually used stop signs.
You see, I forgot how the people of Chicagoland drove. While I loved them for their predictability I'd forgotten their lack of use of speed limits and stop signs. After living in the dirt hole where it was cause for celebration when someone went the speed limite and you got a ticket when you failed to come to a stop for three seconds, it was jarring to realize I'd get run over if I ventured out onto the interstates of Illinois.
So, I didn't. I kept to the mean suburban streets and thanked God I had Texas plates.
When I arrived in Alaska, I don't remember finding things jarring. They were strange, but in a similar way Scotland was strange once I got over the jet lag. They drove fast during bad weather and slow during good weather. Generally speaking, Anchorage drivers were predictable and I never honestly feared for my life when I drove around the city. I drove around with ease and never one felt road rage or had the urge to announce I was a FIB, don't mess with me. (This happened often in the Dirt Hole...)
I honestly can't say that during the times we visited the Chicago area during our three years in Anchorage, I feared for my life whilst in the car. I even drove a few times...I never wanted to scream, never wanted to hide or close my eyes and pray.
San Antonio....oh, how I hate you and your love affair with highways/interstates/access roads.
One thing I learned during my few visits to SA during my tenure in the Dirt Hole was this: SA drivers are not predictable.
Honestly. You never have any idea what the hell they might do at any given point. They go slow for no reason, change lanes without warning, fail to look when they merge and kind of just...scare the living crap out of me. The lanes are also extremely...narrow. And while they know how to paint lines (something no one in Anchorage has gotten the hang of for unknown reasons), sometimes they just don't paint lines and the road is SUPER WIDE and you've got no idea how many lanes a road has.
And I have only drive through SA once in my life. In a small s40. And I only drove on the interstate and never had to get off.
You can't get anywhere without using the interstates and loops and access roads here. It is confusing, annoying and frankly frightening because you never know what someone is going to do. And most people have HUGE trucks.
Granted, I've got a huge truck like vehicle, but still.
I refuse to drive. Pilot Boy keeps mocking me, as I love civilization and hate being in the middle of nowhere, and yet I'm a hermit.
A well dressed hermit who loves hangers, but still a hermit. Even more so now that we've only got one car and I refuse to drive it.
Anywhere.
I'll drive when I get to where I'm actually going, which is in the middle of nowhere Oklahoma. Till then, I'll sit around a pine for Anchorage and the mean suburban streets of Chicagoland (which are way less scary than the road system of SA).
I packed myself up, threw it all into the Monstrosity and headed back down the Alaskan Highway-- only I changed it up and instead of spending weeks on end (or so it seemed) mucking through Canada, I didn't bother trekking across the country and instead took a sharp dive southward and kept going till I hit...Texas.
I hate Texas. And not just because I spent a year living in a dirt hole. No, I just...dislike it strongly.
I'm currently suffering from culture shock. Not all that surprising considering where I came from. I always seem to suffer from culture shock, or rather reverse culture shock. Going back to where I came always throws me for a loop. When I get somewhere odd, the culture shock never really gets me. When I went to Scotland, I adjusted easily. It was when I came back that was hard. It took months for me to feel at ease again and not constantly thinking, "That's wrong..."
When I left the Dirt Hole all those moons ago and went back to Chicagoland, it was the same thing. I was overwhelmed by the cars, people, stop signs, speed limits and where I was. I grew up in the area. It's seared into my mind's eye to the point it's easy for me to call up areas and write stories about them without needing Google Maps. And yet, I drove around with my Texas plated car and got passed on suburban streets for going too slow (also known as the speed limit) and beeped at when I actually used stop signs.
You see, I forgot how the people of Chicagoland drove. While I loved them for their predictability I'd forgotten their lack of use of speed limits and stop signs. After living in the dirt hole where it was cause for celebration when someone went the speed limite and you got a ticket when you failed to come to a stop for three seconds, it was jarring to realize I'd get run over if I ventured out onto the interstates of Illinois.
So, I didn't. I kept to the mean suburban streets and thanked God I had Texas plates.
When I arrived in Alaska, I don't remember finding things jarring. They were strange, but in a similar way Scotland was strange once I got over the jet lag. They drove fast during bad weather and slow during good weather. Generally speaking, Anchorage drivers were predictable and I never honestly feared for my life when I drove around the city. I drove around with ease and never one felt road rage or had the urge to announce I was a FIB, don't mess with me. (This happened often in the Dirt Hole...)
I honestly can't say that during the times we visited the Chicago area during our three years in Anchorage, I feared for my life whilst in the car. I even drove a few times...I never wanted to scream, never wanted to hide or close my eyes and pray.
San Antonio....oh, how I hate you and your love affair with highways/interstates/access roads.
One thing I learned during my few visits to SA during my tenure in the Dirt Hole was this: SA drivers are not predictable.
Honestly. You never have any idea what the hell they might do at any given point. They go slow for no reason, change lanes without warning, fail to look when they merge and kind of just...scare the living crap out of me. The lanes are also extremely...narrow. And while they know how to paint lines (something no one in Anchorage has gotten the hang of for unknown reasons), sometimes they just don't paint lines and the road is SUPER WIDE and you've got no idea how many lanes a road has.
And I have only drive through SA once in my life. In a small s40. And I only drove on the interstate and never had to get off.
You can't get anywhere without using the interstates and loops and access roads here. It is confusing, annoying and frankly frightening because you never know what someone is going to do. And most people have HUGE trucks.
Granted, I've got a huge truck like vehicle, but still.
I refuse to drive. Pilot Boy keeps mocking me, as I love civilization and hate being in the middle of nowhere, and yet I'm a hermit.
A well dressed hermit who loves hangers, but still a hermit. Even more so now that we've only got one car and I refuse to drive it.
Anywhere.
I'll drive when I get to where I'm actually going, which is in the middle of nowhere Oklahoma. Till then, I'll sit around a pine for Anchorage and the mean suburban streets of Chicagoland (which are way less scary than the road system of SA).
28 July 2009
the date grows closer and closer
The time is getting near. I've been in the dirt hole for a year now and if the end is in site will be told this Friday! I'm totally crossing my fingers and toes to get out of here. There is a small possibility that we'll be stuck in the dirt for another four years, which is something I dread on many levels.
I am still trucking along with my shop on Etsy. I've only had two sales and one no-sale. I'm trying to do things to get my sales to pick up, but due to the fact I have very little drive, I have yet to do anything major. I told D about the shop, as well as his wife P. D informed me the other day he was telling everyone he knew. Tragically, the only people he sees on a daily
basis are wanna-be fighter pilots. All male. They are not in need of purses, tragically.
I have an add running on On Scrappy Chic. She contacted me about wanting to run an ad for my shop. It was like the best day of my life when she asked about that. (Okay, I think getting married was the best day, but it was totally one of the better days in the dirt hole.)
As my time in the dirt hole grows shorter (crosses fingers, knocks on wood, does many odd things to assure she will leave), I need to get ready for guests to invade my house. We have a spare bedroom, which is mostly used to collect junk. My husband used it as his huge walk in closet for awhile, then it just started gathering random items after we got Basil. I walked in there this past weekend and was like, "Wow, its filled with pillows and things Basil's attempted to eat." Stuffing was every which where, there was a pilot helmet sitting on the pathetic table bought from Target that never did stay together, and two broken printer were on the floor. In another corner lives the four floursent bulbs we removed from the kitchen after they put in the new lights in our house and we were being blinded in the kitchen. It is still brigher than it used to be in there with only two bulbs. There are also piles of my rejected, too small clothing. I spent about an hour Sunday shoving things neatly into one of the cl
osets (for unknown reasosn the smallest room in the house has two huge closets...)I still have not shoved enough in for the arrival of our new bed on Friday. After two years, we finally bought a guest bed (as well as new printer, but that is not that important except it cost 69 dollars and I acutally pointed with my elbows at it.)
And to end, I will share with you a picture of Basil with a bra on her head. It cracks me up to no end. She is a total modle when I get the camera out. She always poses for me.
I am still trucking along with my shop on Etsy. I've only had two sales and one no-sale. I'm trying to do things to get my sales to pick up, but due to the fact I have very little drive, I have yet to do anything major. I told D about the shop, as well as his wife P. D informed me the other day he was telling everyone he knew. Tragically, the only people he sees on a daily
basis are wanna-be fighter pilots. All male. They are not in need of purses, tragically.I have an add running on On Scrappy Chic. She contacted me about wanting to run an ad for my shop. It was like the best day of my life when she asked about that. (Okay, I think getting married was the best day, but it was totally one of the better days in the dirt hole.)
As my time in the dirt hole grows shorter (crosses fingers, knocks on wood, does many odd things to assure she will leave), I need to get ready for guests to invade my house. We have a spare bedroom, which is mostly used to collect junk. My husband used it as his huge walk in closet for awhile, then it just started gathering random items after we got Basil. I walked in there this past weekend and was like, "Wow, its filled with pillows and things Basil's attempted to eat." Stuffing was every which where, there was a pilot helmet sitting on the pathetic table bought from Target that never did stay together, and two broken printer were on the floor. In another corner lives the four floursent bulbs we removed from the kitchen after they put in the new lights in our house and we were being blinded in the kitchen. It is still brigher than it used to be in there with only two bulbs. There are also piles of my rejected, too small clothing. I spent about an hour Sunday shoving things neatly into one of the cl
osets (for unknown reasosn the smallest room in the house has two huge closets...)I still have not shoved enough in for the arrival of our new bed on Friday. After two years, we finally bought a guest bed (as well as new printer, but that is not that important except it cost 69 dollars and I acutally pointed with my elbows at it.)And to end, I will share with you a picture of Basil with a bra on her head. It cracks me up to no end. She is a total modle when I get the camera out. She always poses for me.
08 February 2009
trying to be something it is not
This past weekend I ventured out of the dirt hole and went to a city and then another smaller town near this city. This town is everything the dirt hole wishes it could be but fails at life trying to be so. The dirt hole tries to keep businesses out of the city in order to keep its "small town feeling."
I don't think anyone who makes these decisions has ever been to a small town before. 30,000 people is not a small town. Once you have that many people, just give up the small town thing and embrace the fact you've managed to trap that many people in the dirt hole.
Another thing, small town usually have businesses they want to protect, you know, local businesses that other big stores would kill. Dirt hole doesn't have any of these for the most parts as they have all ready successfully managed to kill these places. They are also managing to kill their own mall, as I think the mall has maybe two stores now, all others have left. Look up the Beloit Mall. The Dirt hole mall will soon be just like it. Once the stores go, people will stop coming here to shop (except the Mexicans that go to Walmart for unknown reaons). They will get in their respective cars and drive three hours. Just like I did this past weekend. You lost my sales tax money because I LEFT.
This past weekend I watched Pearl Harbor. My husband is unsure why Alec Baldwin is a bad American, as someone made a comment they he should not have been playing the role that he was playing. I'm not sure why Alec Baldwin is a bad American? Because he yelled at his kid? I looked it up on Google News and just got that Alec Baldwin is an alien. That must be it. Unless I have been living under a rock for so long something else happened that I missed, which I am sure is exactly what happened. I'm just really curious about this bad American thing.
Oh well.
Dirt hole sucks. That is all.
I don't think anyone who makes these decisions has ever been to a small town before. 30,000 people is not a small town. Once you have that many people, just give up the small town thing and embrace the fact you've managed to trap that many people in the dirt hole.
Another thing, small town usually have businesses they want to protect, you know, local businesses that other big stores would kill. Dirt hole doesn't have any of these for the most parts as they have all ready successfully managed to kill these places. They are also managing to kill their own mall, as I think the mall has maybe two stores now, all others have left. Look up the Beloit Mall. The Dirt hole mall will soon be just like it. Once the stores go, people will stop coming here to shop (except the Mexicans that go to Walmart for unknown reaons). They will get in their respective cars and drive three hours. Just like I did this past weekend. You lost my sales tax money because I LEFT.
This past weekend I watched Pearl Harbor. My husband is unsure why Alec Baldwin is a bad American, as someone made a comment they he should not have been playing the role that he was playing. I'm not sure why Alec Baldwin is a bad American? Because he yelled at his kid? I looked it up on Google News and just got that Alec Baldwin is an alien. That must be it. Unless I have been living under a rock for so long something else happened that I missed, which I am sure is exactly what happened. I'm just really curious about this bad American thing.
Oh well.
Dirt hole sucks. That is all.
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