God Bless Texas

Just weeks ago I moved down south to the great country of Texas, or so the people of Texas think of it anyway. I've never met such a humbly arrogant group of citizens in my life, but maybe what I see as arrogance is just a healthy dose of pride. Pride that drives women to tattoo "TEXAS" across the small of their back. I don't suppose tattooing "MISSOURI" down my arm would garner much respect. But things here are different. And if you're going to be different, you've got to own it. Admittedly, when I see a woman confidently sporting TEXAS ink I don't really even question it, as long as she walks with her head held high.

And so goes life here in the "Don't Mess With Us" State.

I currently live in Uhland, Texas, a stoplightless town of 300 where inbred cats have learned to walk gracefully on all six of their legs and chickens cross the road every time I come around the corner. It is home to Club 21, one of many dance halls claiming to be the oldest in Texas. It seems to be a hopping place where barefoot children are playing outside at midnight every Friday while their parents boot-scoot and boogie.

It all has a certain undeniable charm to it. Every night I fall asleep to the sound of windchimes and periodically a coyote howling. I can actually see the stars in the sky at night and watching hummingbirds makes up for the periodic projectile lizard that flies out of my purse and lands on my bed or various other wildlife that get caught chillin' out in places they're not supposed to be anyway.

And then I go to work every day on the East Side of downtown Austin, a world away from where I fall asleep every night. The community is exciting and young, but also homeless and broken. I waved to a man standing on a corner the other day because that was all I had to offer him, along with a smile. I didn't know how he'd respond and I hoped he wouldn't think I was patronizing him. But he smiled back and waved with just the tips of his fingers so as not to let go of his cardboard sign. I wonder what people like him see on a daily basis. I'm guessing his view of the world is much more accurate than mine.

Every day I find a new little dive I want to frequent and wonder how I'll ever have enough time here to experience everything I want to experience, meet everyone I want to meet. But inevitably, in my spare time, I find myself back at Dominican Joe, my new favorite coffee shop and object of my affection and loyalty. And so begins my life as an adopted Texan.