I cannot blog when I have an Abba song stuck in my head, I'm going to need some help here. Just sing along and maybe we can clear my mind long enough for me to tell y'all about our move to Texas. If you don't know the words, it's okay. I'm sure Carrie will sing loud enough to drown you out. Ready, ladies and any men (who might for some reason be reading this)? Got your blue eye shadow? Your bell bottoms? Your fear of communism? (Or was that the sixties? Like I said, Abba. It's messing with my mind.) Grab a wooden spoon, a hair dryer, or whatever you use when you're pretending to be a 1970s Swedish pop star and you don't have a mic handy. Let's do this.
There was something in the air that night! The stars were bright, Fernando! They were shining there for you and me! For leeeeberty! Fernando! Though we never thought that we could lose, there's no regret...If I had to do the same again! I would my friend! Fernandoooo!
Ugh. It's not working. Thanks for the valiant effort, ladies. We gave it our best. Now I'll probably die with "Fernando" stuck in my head.
So...we moved to Texas over the weekend. Dallas, to be precise. We drove here, but I will spare you the details of that twenty-one hour drive that took us thirty-four hours. Two interesting highlights: my gas tank sprung a leak along the way and we ate at Sonic on three separate occasions. [Sidenote: I think I may have found a cheeseburger that I love more than In 'n Out's animal-style one. Sonic's Blazin' BBQ burger. Fried jalapenos. BBQ sauce. Pepperjack cheese. Bacon. More jalapenos. (Sidenote to the sidenote: I can't figure out why my pants are getting tighter....) It's heaven on a bun. End sidenotepalooza.]
We got to Dallas on Friday night. I'm not sure where the last five days have gone. We've been swimming in the pool. Sleeping in. Whipping Marianne and Frank at SceneIt. Dodging hailstones the size of cocker spaniels (now I've got Mom's attention!) (I love you, Mom!). For real. DJ was out working last night when the tornado sirens started blaring. And then came the hail....
His trusty little born-again van was pounded by baseball-sized hail. It totally destroyed the windshield. The windshield wipers look like they got chewed up by a wild pack of cocker spaniels (hi, Mom!). The roof is all dented. And my sources tell me that both DJ and my brother-in-law, Casey, screamed like little girls the whole time. (I took a picture of the smashed windshield. I'm trying to be patient while it uploads, but it's taking forever. I suppose this is what I get for stealing Monna's internet. She's probably over at her apartment yelling at the red Netflix "Loading" screen right now.)
Today was perfectly sunny and 94 degrees, but with the humidity it felt exactly like wading through a giant pot of cream of mushroom soup. We spent about three hours at the pool this afternoon. We ate two cantaloupes for dinner and that brings us to the present. Stay tuned, folks. I'm sure tomorrow is going to be even more action-packed.
Can you hear the drums, Fernando? I remember long ago another starry night like this...in the firelight, Fernandoooo! You were humming to yourself and softly strumming your guitar....
(aaaand...we're still uploading. To heck with it, I'm going to bed. Maybe you'll get to see DJ's shattered windshield next time, guys. Sorry. I'm tired. "Fernando" and I are going to bed.)