Saturday I slept in until nine, when Yvette called to inform me they were still at the hospital and had already been awake for hours. I felt guilty and dragged my ass out of bed to get ready and head to the hospital — but not before making myself some chorizo and eggs.
The baby was sound asleep when I arrived. Alaya still had to see her pediatrician before getting discharged. It’s a slow process getting out of the damn hospital. Everyone in that room was more than ready to get the hell out. By about one o’clock, that finally became a reality.
The baby’s mother took off as soon as she had showered, so it was Yvette, Alaya, and me for the day. We had some errands to run, and that’s just what we did. It was a warm Saturday — too warm for this time of year.
That evening we went to celebrate Yvette’s parents’ 50th wedding anniversary. Can you believe it? Fifty years. What a ride that must have been. I’m well past the point in my life where it would even be possible for me to be married to someone for fifty years. Isn’t that kind of sad? Just typing it out pings my feelings a little. I mean, I suppose it could happen, but that would mean I’d have to live to ninety-five and Yvette would have to make it to ninety-eight. We’d be shrunken elderly together.
We went to El Paisano #4. Yes, we have four in town, and this one just opened. It’s a much larger location, more suitable for parties. The place was crowded on a Saturday night. They had some big groups there, and adding our table of ten must have been the tipping point to the chaos. I say that because we were there for almost two hours. The wait for the food was long enough, but then we rarely saw our server. I think we were helped by at least five different people. Our drinks were never refilled. I had to track someone down for silverware. It took an act of God to get our tickets so we could pay out. The food was top notch, but that new location doesn’t quite have it together.
They can’t all be winners.
Sunday rolled around and the weekend was coming to a close. The weekend close too fucking early, don’t you think? I made a little breakfast and then a little lunch. I cut my hair and trimmed my beard. I did laundry. I made a grocery run. Cooked. Walked Hazel. I did adult things, I suppose.
No idea where Mommy was, but Daddy came by and visited Alaya for a little while. She seemed happy by his visit. I guess Yvette and I have become partial parents these days. We might be with the baby more than Momma, ever since she met her new boyfriend. I suppose it’s been three months now? I honestly don’t know.
Sometimes it isn’t easy. It’s certainly something I wasn’t expecting — to be taking care of a little girl all the time. But she is such a great kid. I don’t mind her one bit. Do I wish I had more time with my wife? Yes. Of course. We had more time together before we were married. I love her, and I love this little girl, and later on we’ll be able to make up for the time. I hope.
For now, I cannot imagine my life without Alaya in it.
Lately she’s been into all things dog — or as she says, “woof woof.” We had to have some woof woof on the television all day long. That’s just what she wanted. No idea why. We watched Lady and the Tramp, 101 Dalmatians, The Secret Life of Pets, and Benji (2018). She was content as long as a woof woof was on the screen. I was perfectly fine with that.
That pretty much sums up the weekend. Damn, did it go fast. Kind of like the year. Sunday was the first day of March. Lord.
Very little of great importance happened on campus during the week. I guess there was still some drama over the housekeeping switch-over. It wasn’t going as smoothly as desired. Monday there wasn’t a cleaning crew on campus, which meant chaos for some of the staff and faculty. In one such incident, a student vomited all over a restroom. The office coordinator called to see what could be done. The answer was: clean it yourself. That did not go over so well.
I did see people taking out their own trash. Vacuuming areas that needed vacuuming. Cleaning toilets if needed. Some people really did step up to the plate. I mean, you simply had to. What else could one do? Things needed to remain clean and sanitary. It was a bummer that we were in a transitional phase, yes. Our area didn’t have proper cleaning for a week.
It is what it is.
It was once again unseasonably warm for this time of year. Everything started to bud out, and I’m not sure that’s a good thing. It certainly wasn’t a good thing for my allergies. I was in hell. That’s the only thing about spring that really gets me — the damn allergies. The cedar blooms and the oak. They punch me right in the face. Because we really only had one hard freeze, this season is going to be savage. Friday was when I really began to feel the effects. Damnit to hell.
By the end of the week most of the custodial crews were in operation. I say most because some areas were still lacking. Finally, an everyone email was sent explaining the situation. This might have been an entire week too late. Seriously. I think by the end of the week it was pretty apparent that we had a turnover.
That’s the week in a nutshell. Happy Friday!
Jalapeño
BBQ pulled pork tostadas.
Teriyaki pork loin, fried rice and broccoli.
Fajita seasoned chicken with Bella peppers and onion over Spanish rice and topped with queso.
Gnocchi with spicy meatballs.
Chimichurri steak and shrimp with a cilantro line rice and asparagus.
Saturday was a productive day. I cleaned, did some laundry, and unclogged our bathroom sink. Damn hair and grime have a habit of clogging that small drain line. And I mean small — it isn’t the average 1” P-trap you expect to find. Real bummer for me. It’s filthy what you find when cleaning out a clogged pipe.
We also had a playdate that afternoon. My best childhood friend — really my brother from another mother — Samuel, his wife Crystal, and their baby Alex joined us. I was really afraid they would back out for some made-up reason, but when 3:00 approached, they were still down to meet us at 3:30 at the park.
It was a damn good time. The wind wanted us to cry like bitches, but we persevered. I have no idea how many times Alaya went up and down the slide, but I was happy to see her so entertained. Lord knows we needed her to burn up some of that energy because she was on full batteries that entire weekend.
It was also really good catching up with my best friend. Sadly, we don’t see as much of each other as we should. We say it’s life that keeps us apart, but in actuality, it’s just laziness. I mean, we grew up in daycare together. Roomed together in the college dorms. Experienced much of life together over the interwoven years. We should be able to pick up a phone and meet up every once in a while. I was glad that we now have babies roughly the same age — only three months apart.
Sunday was the epitome of a lazy day. I made breakfast but didn’t leave the house until after three, just making a quick run to the store. I played my video games and finished reading my book — a book that took me much longer than it should have because I kind of became a slacker about it.
That night Teegan and I finished our latest show, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms. It’s a story set within the same world as Game of Thrones. Almost everyone knows that show, even if they’ve never actually watched an episode. I was hooked on it, so naturally I’d be interested in a side tale. What I wasn’t expecting was to be so fully absorbed back into that world.
This tale was set during a relatively peaceful time in Westeros, and the tone was much lighter — at times almost straight comedy, as opposed to the heavy drama of GoT. Teegan and I were both sad that the sixth and final episode aired Sunday night. It was a perfect season finale, and I know we’re both excited about season two a year from now. Really, they nailed it with this show. The last time a spinoff hooked me this hard was Better Call Saul.
Monday was a damn Monday.
First, our system was down. What this means is that I really couldn’t do my job. Well, I could — but I wasn’t able to do the electronic part of it, so everything was piling up on my desk for later. Fucking IT. They really need to get their shit together, and if it truly is a “vendor issue” like they claim, then hold the damn vendors accountable. There’s no reason for the entire campus to be shut out of the system on a Monday morning.
That afternoon, I had a Staff Senate meeting to attend. More bullshit. Funny thing — Yvette was called upon to join the Senate as an alternate because someone dropped out, so she was also at this gathering. We had to listen to the same shit about the potential employee daycare. I think we were all tired of hearing about it, but it kept coming up. It’s been coming up for fucking years as something “in the works” but unrealized.
Well, maybe this time. Hopefully, it will be the last.
The vice president basically squashed it. Squashed. I was hopeful. I dislike her, but at least she must have felt the same as I did on the issue. I don’t know why others didn’t understand this wasn’t going to be possible for many fucking reasons. Common sense.
That night, Teegan had a little award ceremony that we attended at Central High School. I am beyond proud of this kid. He just keeps knocking it out of the ballpark. I don’t think there’s anything he can’t do if he sets his mind to it.
The awards themselves were pretty unorganized. Like, bad. You would think they would have this kind of shit down to near perfection considering how many years they’ve been doing it. Oh well. Teegan was up for “Outstanding Leader.” He did not win, but what an honor just to be nominated.
The most interesting moment of the night came when they announced that the Sarah Bernhardt Theater would likely not be used much after that evening because they were going to demolish it and build another. Wow. I hated the place twenty-six years ago and thought at the time of my graduation that it needed to be blown the fuck up. Good riddance — but all the same, I was a little sad.
Tuesday, I had way too much free time on my hands at work, so I decided to use that time to reapply to college. Why the hell not? The application process has changed vastly in the twenty-five years since I first enrolled. ApplyTexas, which I’ve heard my children mention, seems like a straightforward pain in the ass. It took a little time, and I really think some of the information they’re asking for is a bit excessive for readmission to the college where I obtained my degree, but what can you do?
It was kind of fun. I don’t know how serious I am or how far I’ll take it, but for now I might as well take advantage of the employee tuition exemption and enroll in a few classes — if not just for fun, then to better enrich myself. It would be good for me.
Wednesday was nothing to even write about. Work was dull. I spent a good amount of time on the phone with my internet provider. In November, I spoke with them about my bill being too high and about finding service elsewhere. They worked with me… for two whole months. I received my bill, and it was right back where it had been.
I called and flat-out told them I wanted to cancel my service. Miraculously, they were able to work with me and give me a thirty-dollar credit on my recent bill, two months free, and a three-year rate at forty dollars.
I guess opening with “cancel my service” is the way to get results.
On Thursday, Yvette and I woke up to both of our phones going off, alerting us that my blood sugar was low. Lovely start to the day around 4:00 a.m.
Lucky for us, the campus was giving away free coffee and donuts at the Alumni Center. It was good coffee from a vendor called Travelin’ Tom’s Coffee Truck — not that battery acid they give out in the University Center, which I still stomach, mind you, even if it isn’t so great. The coffee was great. They were also offering donuts, but I passed.
Turns out my fucking blood glucose sensor was haywire all day long. It was reading that I was consistently low and had long gaps between said readings. Pricking my fingers told me otherwise. This meant I was unwillingly raising my sugars thinking that I was low. Bummer.
That afternoon, I had to visit the local water department. I went as prepared as I possibly could be. I had three invoices from plumbers and irrigation specialists, with pictures included. I walked in and took a number. I waited for my turn to be called. The place was silent like a tomb, void of all life and happiness. I waited.
Finally, my number was called. I was escorted to a desk and asked what I was there for. A leak adjustment for the three water leaks I’ve had over the last two months. I presented all my paperwork and the time frames with the bills that had been extraordinarily high. The lady accepted what I had and scanned it into the system. She then told me to continue paying the high bills and that in ninety days they would evaluate my data against the high bills to determine what sort of adjustments would be made to future bills — four months down the line. I felt like I was at a parole hearing. I was at their mercy.
This week has also been loaded with humor.
First, let’s talk about the campus fox population. They are everywhere. They don’t really cause any trouble, but we still have grounds guys who set live traps and relocate them periodically. That doesn’t really put a dent in the population, which is estimated to be 70+. At this point I think the foxes have seniority and possibly campus ID cards. I rather enjoy seeing them here and there. Hell, I live so close to campus I see them in my own yard. They are just part of the campus experience.
So, one campus employee has very good reason to dislike the fox population. While out on his golf cart, he decided to check the pool shed for chemicals — to see if they needed chlorine. He parked, hopped off, and left his lunch sitting proudly in the back of the cart like a buffet invitation. While his back was turned, a sneaky little fox executed what I can only assume was a perfectly calculated heist. Jumped in. Grabbed the sandwich. Gone.
When he turned around, the fox was trotting off with that sandwich firmly clamped in its jaws like it had just won Employee of the Month. No hesitation. No shame. Just confidence. The man was devastated. His lunch was fox food. Somewhere on campus, that fox was probably telling his buddies about the idiot who catered the meal. We laughed our asses off. “How was your day, Patrick?” “Oh, you know. A fox stole my lunch. Typical Monday.”
The second thing that made me laugh. We are having a custodial switch. One crew’s last day was Thursday and another started Friday. Well, as the outgoing crew was leaving, they apparently decided it was “Take a Campus Souvenir Day.” They started loading up materials and items that very clearly did not belong to them — but rather belonged to the campus. One guy — a manager for the crew — tried to intervene and told them they could not take that material. You know. Because stealing is generally frowned upon. His higher-ups decided to fire him on the last day. He was fired for not stealing. Let that marinate for a second.
In a week where a fox committed petty theft and got away clean, a man lost his job for refusing to participate in actual theft. You really can’t make this shit up. Oh, the humor.
Just when I thought the week was over, boy, was I wrong. Alaya fell off a chair during lunch. I didn’t see it happen because I was carrying in groceries. She immediately vomited up her lunch. That’s scary. After cleaning her up, her mommy and daddy took her to the emergency room. Yvette and I returned to work.
Just after 3:30, Mommy called and said she had a small fracture of the skull. Oh my God, I was suddenly sick. I ran across campus and barged into Yvette’s office only to find she had already left. I must have looked sick to her boss. I kind of just let myself in because I was freaked out. I went back to the office, quickly left for the day, and headed to the hospital.
They were still in the ER, and I met Yvette in the waiting room of the pediatric unit. It was supposed to take thirty minutes for them to release her, but it ended up taking more like three hours. What kind of shit is that, I ask?
Her pediatrician met them in the ER and went over the results. Thank God — no concussion or brain bleed. I was so relieved. I had the awful worry that something like what happened to me would happen to her.
When she finally made it to the room, so did a detective and CPS. Good of them, but also unnecessary. Kind of bullshit. They interviewed them separately to make sure the stories aligned. Yvette had resurfaced memories of her past, and I could see the hurt in her eyes. It was bullshit because the ER filed the case as neglect. It wasn’t. She was watched, but she is fast, and things happen quickly.
Assured the case would close quickly, I left the hospital to go make dinner for Tee and me. He had already eaten. Of course. What a damn evening.
Jalapeño
Pork tenderloin marinated in fajita seasoning and lime juice served with peppers, onion, fideo and a nice salsa Verde with avocado mash..
Valentine’s was celebrated in full the Friday before, but we still exchanged gifts and marked the actual day together — even if that just meant running errands across town. We’d already had such a good night that nothing was going to top it anyway.
That evening, because my brother was in town, we went over to my mother’s for dinner, drinks, and good times. Old stories resurfaced. New conversations started. We ate like we always do. Apparently, he had requested what has always been my favorite meal that my mom made when we were kids.
Somewhere before we left, something shifted in me. A little sickness crept in. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. Just a quick stomach glitch.
When we got home, Teegan and Yvette started packing for a trip to A&M. Big orientation. I wasn’t going — it was catered to one parent, and I was trying to build up my hours anyway.
Then the night happened.
I woke up with violent chills, freezing my ass off. I couldn’t get warm no matter what I did. And then it hit — my stomach. I was sick from both ends. All night. It felt like food poisoning, but I couldn’t think of anything I’d eaten that everyone else hadn’t, so I ruled that out.
Yvette found me on the couch the next morning and asked what I was doing there. I told her.
Sunday and Monday disappeared into crackers, toast, electrolytes, and regret. I left the house once — barely — just to grab drinks and supplies. Otherwise, I rotated between the bed and the couch like a defeated man.
I watched the entire first season of Pluribus. Nine hours I was more than happy to spend thinking about something other than how bad I felt.
The house was quiet. Lonely, sure — but quiet. I was almost grateful for that. It let me rest. I am an absolutely hopeless man when I’m sick. I become a big baby. I hate that about myself, but I won’t lie about it.
My diet stayed simple: crackers, toast, a little egg. I treated myself to half a chicken pot pie both nights, which felt like a victory at the time. By Monday evening, the house filled back up. I thought I was better. I wasn’t. Around 3 a.m., the bug came back. And again. And again.
At that point, I knew I’d have to take another day off, even though I didn’t want to. Conveniently, we had plumbers scheduled. Though “convenient” is a strong word when you have a stomach bug and the water in your house is turned off. Do you know what kind of nightmare that is? Lucky for me, campus is close. I made more than one emergency visit up there.
Now, about those plumbers.
Because the house had been so quiet, I started noticing sounds again. The water heater kicking on when it shouldn’t. A familiar, awful sound. Not again.
Then I noticed something worse. The hallway and master bedroom floor felt… squishy. That’s never a good word. Another leak. The damn hot water line. Again. Apparently, nothing in this house fully heals the first time — including me.
The plumbers came by, read the meter, and said it was probably just a pinhole leak. “Just” a pinhole. Even a tiny leak can wreck a house over time. We were living proof.
The master plumber found where he believed the manifold was, which unfortunately meant going through the tile wall by the toilet. It is what it is. They ran yet another line through the attic. That attic has seen more action in the last two weeks than it has in years.
Yvette and I rotated house duty. Since I sure as hell wasn’t getting rest there, I dropped off my taxes. The sooner the better. I need to pay back some of the money I borrowed to cover these plumbing bills. I also used the trip to once again utilize a campus restroom. I am so over this damn stomach bug.
Back at the house, they were wrapping up when I witnessed something almost worth the chaos. Before removing the toilet, the helper forgot to turn off the water valve. When they tested the line, water shot everywhere. The master was not pleased. “I need you to do your part so I can do mine.” The helper was gone shortly after. The master apologized and said he wouldn’t be working with that guy again. I laughed silently. Even in the middle of misery, there’s always something.
For now, the problem is fixed. Two brand-spanking-new hot water lines replaced in two weeks. Two more still standing. Let’s hope they hold. If they don’t, at least give us a few years to financially recover.
After three days trapped inside, I needed out.
I found a bench swing along the river and just sat. We have a beautiful river that winds through this town — one most people take for granted. I needed fresh air. Space. Movement. I couldn’t start another damn show.
The river was steady. Calm. Indifferent to my plumbing and my stomach. It’s the lifeline of this city. Everything here comes back to it. Even me.
I watched a lone duck for a while. Ducks aren’t usually alone, so I wondered about that. I watched people drift in and out of view. Couples. Runners. Kids. I might have even witnessed a shady little drug deal. That’s the river. It gathers everything — families, solitude, deals, peace. The water kept moving whether I felt like shit or not.
I could’ve stayed for hours if my stomach would’ve allowed it. The sky was bright, the clouds barely there. For a moment, I almost forgot about the bug. But the battle between mind and stomach had a clear winner. And it wasn’t me.
When I left, the duck was still alone. I suppose we both were that day on the river.
Now, about Pluribus.
Damn, that was a good show. I wish I’d watched it under better circumstances, but what can you do? The world receives a transmission from deep space — basically a genetic code. And because we’re stupid humans, we assemble it. The result? All but twelve people on Earth become one hive mind. No individuality. No private thoughts. World peace. Perfect harmony. The hive isn’t hostile. In fact, it wants to please you. It’ll do anything you ask. Even deliver a nuke to your front porch if that’s what you request. So what do the twelve do? That’s the show. And it’s done beautifully.
The performances are strong across the board, and the writing is sharp. Of course it is. Same mind behind Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul. I’d absolutely recommend it — especially if you find yourself stuck on a couch, fighting demons from both ends.
I made it back to work the next day. My last episode had been after six the evening before — over twelve hours without incident. A miracle. I felt like a goddamn new man. It’s funny how you don’t realize how good you feel until you feel good again.
The office was locked when I arrived. Big morning meeting about the leadership change. I wasn’t about to attend. I used the quiet time to organize the mess on my desk. After being cooped up for days, I was ready to move. To drive. To get out into town. I was almost ecstatic.
While out, I saw a man face down in a Whataburger parking lot, hands cuffed behind his back while four officers searched his vehicle. Before ten in the morning. I don’t know what he did. Maybe he just wanted coffee and a honey butter chicken biscuit. Sometimes the day just doesn’t go your way.
The plumbers stopped by at noon to fix a small leak they’d caused. Ten minutes. No charge. A rare win.
That night I went to my mother’s, grilled for Yvette, Teegan, and myself, and had a genuinely good time. I wasn’t tired anymore. I missed a call from an old friend and returned it. As usual, he had nothing good to say. Only bad news. I was glad to know — but not glad to know.
The three-day work week passed without disaster. I stayed busy all over town. The weather was pretty damn great for February — warm most of the week. A hell of a contrast to how it started. Let’s hope I don’t go through some bullshit like that again for a very long damn time. I’ve had my fill.
Happy Friday!
Jalapeño.
The sad little chicken pot pie that I ate parts of for two nights will suck to my stomach.
Cat food!! That’s what my brother and I called it. Tits really just ground beef seasoned as if they were hamburgers covered in ketchup.
Mac and cheese with chicken and broccoli.
Grilled orange chicken thigh.
Brazilian bbq pork ribeye with street corn and black bean and rice.
The weekend was finally here. What a goddamn relief that was, because I almost wasn’t sure that I would be able to make it another day. Such an expensive week that I’m going to have a lot of fun paying for when all the bills finally collide with me.
That Saturday morning, the baby girl was leaving us to be with her other grandmother. I told Yvette that sometimes we have to share. She called me a smart ass. I must say that it is very weird around the house without her pitter-patter.
Meanwhile, Teegan had a dance to attend, and he wanted to get ready with friends. It’s what we call the Tri-Hi-Y dance, where the boys are asked out by the girls. It’s honestly sort of a big deal for us young men in high school. I remember one year I didn’t get asked out and all my close friends did. I felt like a loser on that long, lonely night.
We spent the day running around town — groceries, gas, and bullshit that we didn’t need. During the course of our adventures across town, I kept running into my in-laws. I found it rather funny that each time Yvette and I got separated at the store, there they were. They never once saw Yvette and me together. What a laugh.
Eventually, the night rolled in, and we had the house to ourselves. It was time for a romantic evening. I cooked. We put on a movie — Inside Llewyn Davis, a Coen Brothers film starring Oscar Isaac that came out twelve years ago. Crazy that I hadn’t seen it. It was a nice evening of quiet, alone time.
Sunday was all about sleeping in, which doesn’t happen with the baby around. When I finally got up, I made a fantastic pizza, some wings, and a salad. I had been needing to do yard work, and since the weekend was finally cooperative, I got after it. Damn if it wasn’t fucking hot. Crazy how much the weather can change in just a week.
While I was outside, I was reminded of something I want to share with you all reading this: three big dogs are too many damn dogs. That morning, they tried their damnedest to keep us from sleeping in, and when I finally did put them outside, they seemed hell-bent on trying to wake up the entire neighborhood. I was over them. Now, it’s not fair for me to blame them all that morning. Rosco was the guilty culprit. He’s usually quiet, but that weekend he was not.
The amount of dog poop that I had to pick up that Sunday was my own neglect, but it doesn’t change the fact that these animals are pooping machines. One eats acorns all fucking day while the other is a baby-wipe muncher. I don’t know how their digestive systems endure so much trauma. It was disgusting.
Honestly, my feelings about three dogs being too many dogs had been building for a little while and came to a head during the ice storm we recently had. Being cooped up with them when it was too cold to put them outside broke the straw. They were stir-crazy. We all were stir-crazy. Being followed by three dogs into every room of the house for four straight days was maddening.
I love them, but good lord. What a pain in the ass. One dog is perfect. Two is great, but three is too much. Never again.
Sunday wasn’t just any Sunday — it was Super Bowl Sunday. I had no stakes in the game. We went over to my in-laws, and they made fajitas. We had the joy of bringing a bunch of desserts that I cannot even fucking eat. Bummer for me.
The game was shit. I mean, I didn’t care for any of the teams, but I really didn’t want the fucking Patriots to win. SPOILER: They didn’t. It was so slow and nothing exciting happened. A total snooze fest. I might have watched a total of thirty minutes while the rest of my time was spent eating and visiting.
Anyway, the Super Bowl is often about halftime shows and commercials. I saw some good commercials and movie trailers. I’m really excited about The Adventures of Cliff Booth, a follow-up to a character played by Brad Pitt in Quentin Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. This sequel is directed by David Fincher. Budweiser and Michelob Ultra once again had funny commercials. Beer commercials almost always are the best. The Xfinity ad featuring the original cast of Jurassic Park was also a highlight. I swear, some people just watch the game for the commercials.
And then there’s the halftime show — the other reason people watch the Super Bowl.
The halftime show had controversy. Bad Bunny. I honestly had not heard of Bad Bunny because I’m not up on the times, but he has the MAGA crowd all up in arms. The snowflakes. I think they just need a safe place to cry because it is getting ridiculous. It was so bad this year that they decided they would have their own halftime show with Kid Rock — a guy who talks about affairs with underage girls as mandatory. That is the family-friendly, good Christian alternative halftime show. Of course it is. These people support their Dear Leader. It’s fucking sad when we are so little that we have to make our own halftime show. Pathetic. And telling.
Why the outrage now? A Puerto Rican singing the halftime show in Spanish — a language other than English. This country never had a singular native tongue. Why the outrage now? Why not when Dear Leader posted a racist video on the internet? Silence. When ICE agents shot and killed United States citizens? Silence. The Epstein Files? Silence.
MAGA was triggered by the halftime show.
I mean, think about it. What did these halftime shows accidentally reveal? Bad Bunny had a spectacle built around joy, love, and inclusion — a celebration of culture, community, and the radical idea that people who don’t look or sound like you still count. Kid Rock had a performance defined almost entirely by who it was not for. Angry. Nostalgic. “Remember when things were better for a very specific group of people.”
I think the cultural divide today is really between people who understand that culture is fluid, dynamic, and constantly evolving — and those who want to restrict it, control it, and shrink it to fit their own fears and nostalgia. One side sees culture as something we all build together over time. The other treats it like a museum piece that has to be locked behind fucking glass and protected from change.
Really fucking scary, but that is where we are. The left, for all its flaws, generally argues about how to extend rights and dignity to more people — different races, different religions, different languages. The goal, at least in theory, is everyone. The right increasingly seems to argue about how to protect a shrinking definition of “us” — same look, same beliefs, same culture. Everyone else can wait outside.
One side is arguing over how big the tent should be. The other is arguing over who gets kicked out.
So anyway, how was the show itself? I didn’t understand most of it, but the music was good, and that is all that matters. I thought it was pretty amazing that he sang the entire show in Spanish. Good for him. I always listen to music in other languages, so that didn’t bother me. Sometimes knowing the lyrics can be distracting to the music.
The message was clear. America is not just red, white, and blue. America is many flags, most of which do not speak English as a native language. Together, we are America. The United States too often thinks of itself as America alone. That is not true — it’s many nations.
The only thing more powerful than hate is love. The message that caused so much outrage — who can argue with that? We as a people would be better off living that mantra.
Lots of meaning can be made from his show, but even more can be taken away by the outrage and the MAGA crowd deciding to have a halftime show for themselves. I had no idea that I would deep dive into a Super Bowl halftime show like I did, but the reaction speaks loud words. That’s how disturbing one group deciding to have their own show was to me.
Anyway, rant over. It was a good weekend.
Monday I woke up feeling rested and ready for the week — much higher spirits than the prior week. Fuck that week. Work had me on campus, which was great. The weather was fine for it, if not a little damn hot. I had a good day. I can’t say the same for Yvette. Her day was riddled with meetings and an after-work dinner. Poor girl.
Tuesday I had to call our natural gas provider to try to set up a payment plan for the hot water issue we had. Oh, the joy. Because it would also affect next month’s bill, they recommended that we wait until that cycle ends, assuring me they would not cut off our gas due to late payments. This water leak is going to be an expensive problem for a while, I fear.
The day itself was rather nice and gloomy. It sprinkled a little, but the temperatures were still mild enough for me to enjoy. The sun eventually came out, and it felt like fucking spring outside, not February. What a wild ride we have been having with the weather this year.
That evening were the service awards. I was honored with my ten years of service. I opted out of the dinner because that’s not my thing. I didn’t want to be recognized and paraded in front of everyone for a photo op with the president. Yvette would have liked to attend, but I just couldn’t bring myself to go. I guess I should feel honored, but it’s a lie — I’ve actually been on campus going on 15 years. They didn’t count my first few years because I wasn’t technically full-time. Somehow that detail made the recognition feel a little hollow, like a reminder of how long I’ve been grinding away more than anything worth celebrating.
Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday were all just a blur, which felt fitting for the kind of week it had been. Nothing exciting happened for me. I was busy all across campus and managed to catch up with a lot of people, but it was the kind of busy that leaves you tired without feeling accomplished.
By the time Friday finally arrived, I felt relieved more than anything. My brother came into town, so I met him and a few friends for a quick drink. It was Valentine’s Day Eve. Since I fucked up reservations for Valentine’s Day, Yvette and I went to BIGA on Friday night instead — the same place we celebrated the year before. The atmosphere was just as beautiful, and after the kind of week I’d had, simply sitting there together felt like enough.
Jalapeño.
Saturday was a date night. I made a Japanese steak with a sweet soy reduction, sticky rices with chili crisp shrimp and a veggie medley with zucchini, onions and mushrooms.
Saturday was a sunny, cold day. When I got up, the baby was getting ready to spend the day with her grandmother. It’s always sad seeing her leave. Yvette was in a pretty bad mood about it. I get it—we usually spend the entire weekend with the girl, and even more often lately.
Yvette and I watched a movie called The Rip. It was a new Netflix exclusive starring Matt Damon and Ben Affleck, among other familiar faces. There was lots of tension within the police force over a recent officer’s death, likely at the hands of other agents. All over money—the root of all evil. The movie had some great twists, and we were sucked right in.
I decided to see what damage had been done to my plants by the attic blast that came through. I lost a few, but the ones I wanted to keep pulled through. I watered them and let them have some much-needed sunlight.
I used the opportunity to clean up the back porch. The plants had taken up a large portion of it, and the dogs had made a bloody mess. It was driving my OCD brain mad. It was a great relief to have that small thing taken care of.
Monday, I woke up and took a cold-ass shower. I had to call someone, and once at work I dialed three plumbers before finally reaching out to one of the larger operations in town who could check out the issue. They were able to arrive fairly quickly, and the diagnosis wasn’t great—a slab leak. I had worried that would be the issue. Google had already led me to that conclusion, sadly. Why can’t it ever be something simple to fix? Damn bullshit.
I was kind of useless at the house, so Yvette took my position and worked from home. I can’t really do that. All day at work I worried about the situation and how bad things could possibly get. I hate anxiety. I’m sure I annoyed Yvette with all the calls asking for updates. She is such a sweetie.
In the end, they were able to fix the problem without too many invasive measures. A few walls were cut out, but they were all hidden either in a closet or behind a cabinet. I really appreciated the guys making it as discreet as possible. I’m used to plumbers destroying things and leaving a mess for someone else to fix later. These guys were excellent, and I will recommend them. The cost was high—but it could have been much higher.
I had a celebratory drink, and that night the family came over for dinner. Yvette made her famous lasagna. We ate like kings. It was great visiting, and for once I was very happy not to have leftovers in the fridge. Good conversation with my father-in-law. It was a great evening.
After everyone had left, it was time for me to take my first hot shower since Friday morning. I was so excited to have hot water once again. I cranked the heat up and just relaxed in the much needed steam. Sleep found me well that night.
I was on another office duty week. Kill me. I hate it. There was very little going on, which somehow made it worse. I caught up on all my paperwork by Tuesday, leaving me with absolutely nothing meaningful to do. I called the water department about leak adjustments for the last and next billing cycles, wrote a review for the plumbers, and generally tried to look busy. I felt painfully lame at work.
We had another protest on campus Thursday. Turning Point hosted a “We Stand w/ ICE” event, which quickly drew an anti-ICE protest in response. When I was picking up Yvette for lunch — and again when I dropped her off later — we noticed a heavy police presence in the parking lot next to her building: city cops, state troopers, sheriff’s deputies, and campus police. At first, I wondered if it was some kind of training exercise, since they usually send out an email when something is happening. Not this time — it was all for the protest.
Honestly, the show of force felt unnecessary for a small campus demonstration. Still, I suppose it’s better to be overprepared than caught off guard. What mattered more to me was seeing students actually show up and speak their minds. I don’t agree with ICE — fuck ICE — but I do respect that both sides were willing to stand outside and be heard. That kind of engagement — even when it’s messy or uncomfortable — is part of what a college campus is supposed to be.
Friday morning started with frost on the ground, and by afternoon it was all the way up to 81 degrees — nearly a sixty-degree swing in a matter of hours. Texas weather really does keep you guessing. I never quite know how to dress for days like that. The morning felt sharp and cold, and by afternoon I was peeling off layers and wishing for shade.
The afternoon itself was quiet, much like the rest of the week. I only had one errand to run, and I took my time with it. It’s a long drive anyway, so I went the scenic route halfway to Ballinger and back. The stillness of the drive felt nice. After the way the week began — with that expensive water leak — uneventful felt like a gift. I’ll take calm and ordinary over stressful and costly any day.
Happy Friday!
Jalapeño
Lobster tail for Yvette and buffalo chicken pasta for me.
Spaghetti with a Spicy breaded chicken breast and melted mozzarella cheese. Easy chicken Parmesan.
Yvette’s lasagna.
Philly cheesesteak rice bowl.
Spicy sesame chicken stir-fry.
BBQ pork loins with grilled okra, deviled eggs and slaw.
Saturday we woke up to the site of an icy winter land. Overnight the precipitation froze into a light sheet that covered everything. Small pellets of sleet were falling from the sky and it was a mere sixteen degrees with a windchill of zero. It was a beautiful site.
I decided to cook upo some chorizo potato. Rather than do the usual tacos, I uppped my game by making crispy tostadas. I burnt the shit out of my first batch of tortillas, but the second was crispy golden. Add a lite layer of melted cheese and top with an over easy egg, I had crafted a delightfully delicious breakfast for Teegan, Yvette and myself.
After a shower and coffee I decided it was time to take a little walk. It was indeed fridged, but the roads really were not that slippery to walk upon. I made my way to the campus and saw some other signs of life. Bored students with nothing else to do. I also saw one of the strangest things that I’ve ever seen on the campus: A burning barrel in one of the dorm parking lot s. I didn’t see anyone attending it. I assume that the campus police hadn’t made their rounds just yet, of the simply didn’t care.
Later I decided to journey to the store. We needed baby shampoo. The roads were a little scary, I must admit. I only lost traction once on the way to and from.
The store, after the last week, was relaxing. I didn’t want to leave. I just.. walked. I shopped with ease and peace. I was happy. I made myself stay longer just k owing that the roads and likely hood of me getting out the following day would be very slim. What a shopping experience.
The end of the night I watched some UFC with Teegan. That is something I have never done. Watch UFC. He was really exciting and telling me everything I didn’t know. I don’t watch fights. Haha. It was actually a very great experience. I love this kid and will miss the fuck out of him when he leaves for college.
Sunday we woke up and I made some more breakfast. I had found some dehydrated shredded beef at HEB that is traditionally used to make Machacado, so that’s what I set out to do. Turns out, that makes a world of difference. In the past I’ve always used brisket, but the dried beef was a winner a reflected what I had always ordered at burrito shops for years.
The day was still cold as fuck. The sun was peaking through but not wanting to show itself. The outside pipe to the washer seemed to have froze, but we had prepared for that by keeping up with laundry. Unfortunatly, our water heater issue seemed to have came full circle leaving us once again with very Luke warm showers. So fucking weird.
Yvette and I spent a lot of time over the weekend watching Big Little Lies. I had watched the show nine years ago so it was pretty much new to me. I recalled the major plot points but not all the drama that happened in between. We enjoyed it.
The thing is, I only watched season one. The season was only based on the one book and it ended. They made a second seasons that I refused to watch. Haha. I guess we were going to watch season two.
I took another walk and the roads were full on shit. TERRIBLE SHIT. People driving were afraid to see Hazel and I walking because they might slide into us. I understand. Maybe if it’s that bad just don’t fucking drive unless you absolutely have to. They dog and I could barely walk a block.
The weekend I had a lot of anger. None of it was pointed towards anyone that was at the house. I just don’t understand people. People I know and people around the world. People take great things for granted. People died on the streets. PEOPLE ARE SHIT. I honestly hate most people. Fuck us! People tend to be selfish and only care about what immediately benefits them. People are cruel scared ignorant and unwillling to admit they re wrong. Fuck humanity.
Anyone reading this: think for a second about what you believe in. When you open your eyes, do you see the world we are currently living in? Does it make you happy? Is this what you wanted? This world of chaos? Cruelty? Is this what you wanted? I grew up with the lord and the church and I can tell you right now this is not what I believe in or what the Holy Bible teaches.
Monday was a bad weather day so the campus was closed due to the icy conditions. I’d take it. I decided to sleep in for a change. Why the hell not.
When I did finally wake up and start moving, I found some guest had come over. It was a gathering of Yvette’s family. The first of two of the day. Noah, Nadia, and the in-laws all showed up. I guess just because the roads were better and they wanted out of the house. I don’t think their arrival was planned. It was nice to see some other faces and I think Alaya needed it.
Afterwards. I made some beef ravioli and decided it was time for a little walk to the campus to check out the conditions. I will say that the roads were much better, but areas not in direct sunlight were terrible. Hazel and I did enjoy the sunlight for the first time in days.
When I came back to the house I owed Yvette some time alone. Alaya and I played together for a good hour and it was great. Who knew a little baby could cook so well. The perfect pairing of lemon and dumplings.
I made a random trip to HEB just to get out of the house. When I got back home, so did Lola. After three days. Word must have gotten out she was home because Noah, Nadia and the in-laws all showed up. Coincidence? I don’t know. I also don’t know what conversations were had.
We cooked and we had fun. Alaya was happy to see other people besides her grandparents.
Tuesday was another bad weather day off work. The weather was actually quite perfect. I slept in and everyone took off to get Teegan’s truck from my mother’s, where it has been since Friday evening covered and out of the elements. I took my time getting ready for the day. I didn’t really have anything I had to do so why not.
The day was pretty much consumed by watching the second season of Big Little Lies, cooking and taking Hazel for a walk. What a way to spend the day off.
Going into work on Wednesday just felt off. It felt like a Monday, but worse, because we only had three days of work. I couldn’t find the groove. Starting in the middle of the week is always a challenge—you press on the gas, only to immediately hit the brakes.
When Friday arrived, it felt suspiciously like Wednesday. There was a little sadness in the air on campus, especially in my area. You see, the end of January is often when people retire, and this time we were losing a guy who had been here for 22 years. He’s an excellent worker and an all-around good guy. He’ll be missed—not just for what he did, but for always being there when the campus needed him, often without even being asked. I know I’ll miss him, though I’ll likely still see him around town with his wife, enjoying a cold craft beer.
Saturday, we all took our time getting going. It was a nice, slow-paced day. I grilled some pork and potatoes for lunch, and we sort of went our separate ways for a little while.
Yvette and I had a movie date: The Housemaid. A tense thriller about a struggling woman who lands a job as a live-in maid for an uber-wealthy family. Let’s just say things are not what they first appear. It’s really hard to talk about the film without spoiling key plot points. You get the usual affairs and candle-lit creepiness you’d expect from a movie like this. The mystery was captivating, and we both enjoyed it. I knew it would be right up Yvette’s alley.
That evening, Noah, Nadia, and Niles were over, and we just visited and had a good ol’ time. It was exactly how I like a Saturday to play out. Just a damn good day.
Sunday, I woke up and decided I was not ready for the day yet, so I laid back down. I wasn’t planning on sleeping for three more hours, but that’s what I did. Oops.
I got up and took another lukewarm shower. Damnit—I needed a plumber. Wide awake, I grilled Tee a couple of beer brats, then we went over to Yvette’s parents’ house for burgers and football. The Texans versus the Patriots. Sloppy game. The Texans looked and played like shit. So many turnovers. The poor quarterback looked like he was actively helping the Patriots win. It was a sad sight.
After the game, I decided a little manual labor would help, so I elected myself to bury the irrigation hole after the kid fixed the leak. No need for him to do the heavy work when I was perfectly able.
That night, while scrolling Facebook, I made a disturbing discovery about someone I knew as a child. Arrested for child pornography involving a one-year-old. I was sick to my stomach. The weird little boy I knew growing up had become some sort of monster. What in the hell happened to him over the years? What kind of sickness warps a mind into something like that? He has a reputable family—a good upbringing, to my knowledge. What the fuck. The revelation haunted me all night. It haunted me the following day. Sick fuck.
MLK Day! Woot!! No work for us. It was a pretty uneventful day. What did happen was our water suddenly became hot again. The heater stopped constantly running, and we could no longer hear the sound of water flowing. It was like there was a buildup in the line or tank that finally blew through. A mystery to us, but at least we had warm water again.
When the week finally rolled around, I was back out on campus—my first time since before Christmas break. It was nice catching up with people and talking about how the holiday season treated everyone. I realized I did kind of miss the campus family.
One thing on everyone’s mind throughout the week was the pending weather. We were supposed to receive a good winter storm with the potential for ice and snow. The last bad weather we had was five years ago, now known as “The Winter Apocalypse of 2021.” Everyone has PTSD from that experience. I know I do. I lost power for three days and froze my ass off.
The campus and the town were bracing for impact. Grocery stores were a madhouse. The fear was real. My department was tasked with finding pallets of bottled water for all the dorms—back-and-forth trips to Sam’s. Lucky for me, I wasn’t part of that mess. Just a bystander.
When winter hits in Texas, it doesn’t gradually creep in—it springs forth like a jack-in-the-box. No one is ever really prepared. After a few store runs, I feel like my family should be able to make it through the weekend. Yvette’s dad added to my firewood supply. We have plenty of water and food. Hopefully, the power grid holds up. That’s all we can do—hope.
Oh, the weekend—how I do love thee. Saturday, I woke up on the couch, Alaya had taken my spot in the bed. The morning was cold. We got the girl up and running for gymnastics, and I stayed behind. I relaxed a little before getting after some projects. Or at least before convincing myself I was about to.
It was a very productive day. I did some digging in the backyard and found a water leak. I hate digging holes. There is no scenario where I think, You know what sounds fun today? Digging. But I was glad I found it. The hard work paid off. We know a kid who’s worked in irrigation for two years, and he came over with pretty much everything he needed to fix it. The people who laid the line did a half-ass job and must have just made whatever they had on hand work instead of doing the sensible thing. Even I knew it was a mess just by looking at it—and I don’t know irrigation. That should tell you something. Digging the hole saved the kid some time and work. Yay. He worked until it was dark, so the job needed a little more time the following day. Because of course it did.
We did the dye test on our toilets and found that one was indeed leaking—silently, like a sneaky little bastard. One of the plumbers hooked me up with a seal to replace on the flush kit, hoping for a simple, less costly fix. I took the damn thing apart and replaced the seal, fully expecting it not to work. Shockingly, it did. That did the trick. No more silent water leak. A rare plumbing victory for me.
Sunday, the kid came back over to work on the water line. He had everything, but alas, the problem wasn’t completely fixed. I think the glue just hadn’t set yet. I told him no worries, gave him some money, and told him to come back when he had time. The meter was turned off, and I had no plans to water the yard anyway. Thank God for a separate irrigation meter—otherwise our house would have been without water, and I would have lost it.
I hate dealing with the water department. Very rarely do you find someone who can actually help you, and more often than not, they’re downright hostile—as if you calling them was insulting. Monday was one of those cases. The lady was on the defensive the moment she answered the phone. I know I have a leak because I can hear the water; I just want to know how much is running. I’ve gone out to the meter and tried to figure it out myself, but the display is full of water and condensation. I can’t read shit. Which feels ironic.
After telling me multiple times that they wouldn’t do anything to make this right, I finally told her I was getting tired of having to call her department every time I suspected I had a fucking leak. Not in as many words. She blew me off, said she’d see what she could do, and basically hung up on me. Customer service at its finest. I’m not holding my breath.
I did finally find a plumber willing to come look for the leak. I’m sure I could’ve found many, but I didn’t want to use one of the big names—the ones with the flashy trucks and even flashier invoices. I contacted my friend, a real estate broker, and asked if he had anyone to suggest. The guy said he’d work me in. My “family” plumber was unreachable, and besides, he’s semi-retired.
After work, it was time to celebrate Lola’s 21st birthday. The immediate family and my mother gathered at Texas Roadhouse, a place I’ve never really understood. It’s always packed. Always. So packed, in fact, that the eleven of us had to wait about forty minutes to be seated. Apparently, people really love loud rooms, peanut shells, and steaks that taste exactly like you expect them to. Why the place is so popular is beyond me because I really don’t find the food all the appealing.
Still, it was a good time. They didn’t have room for all of us at one table, but we managed to sit close enough to shout across. We laughed and played with the babies. I ordered a beer so Lola wouldn’t be the only one drinking—purely out of solidarity, obviously. She finally got the margarita she’d been wanting ever since working there back in high school. Overall, it was a good experience, and I hope she had a great birthday.
Did I mention the cold finally found us? Again? It comes and goes on a whim, like it can’t quite commit. I like it to feel at least a little like the season we’re in. I don’t need it to be in the 80s in January. That’s just confusing for everyone.
I really hate the weeks I have to sit in the office. Have I told you that for the millionth time? If not, we’re getting close. I’m not someone who can sit still—I fidget constantly. I get bored quickly with the internet, which I didn’t think was possible. Time works differently when you’re doing very little. I stay busy with office duties and helping people—working on reports and receivers, replying to emails, answering calls from across campus—but I don’t like doing any of that shit, which makes the week feel endless. It’s like sitting in a doctor’s waiting room where the clock actively hates you.
I found a few moments of escape, but they were few and far between. I filled in for Troy on Monday, which got me out. I volunteered to deliver a 55” TV to the museum for IT to install, which bought me a solid twenty minutes of freedom. I had a shipment to pick up on the north side of town that required my credit card. I try to plan ahead for long office weeks—anything that gets me out of the building. I was lucky this week. Most weeks, I’m not.
The first day back after sixteen days off work is a brutal beast to conquer. I was weary and damn near broken by day’s end. I was fortunate to be out and about; otherwise, I might have transpired in the office—a corpse decomposing in his office chair. It was so slow that morning I almost felt my life ticking away.
After narrowly winning the war with work, we had my father-in-law to celebrate. His 69th birthday. Trust me, I wanted nothing more than to go home and lick my wounds, but a celebration is a celebration, and duty did call. My battle was just the beginning.
It was the family, and this scrimmage was upon my blood sugar. Spaghetti, garlic bread, and two types of cake. The dagger comes from within those you love the most. I felt like Caesar betrayed by Brutus. I did the best I could not to succumb to the darkness. Prevail, I did.
The long, hard kick in the nuts wasn’t yet over for me. Just when I imagined the suffering couldn’t endure any longer, Hell opened its gates upon me once more. Back on the home front, it was decided venison burgers must be grilled, otherwise the meat would spoil. This battle I wasn’t fighting alone. I had my good friend Miller to accompany me. With the bonus confidence, I went in swinging and came out victorious!!!
Never had one day been such a trial, and may never one ever again test the limits of my being. Bless thee.
By the gods, Tuesday the sun was shining upon me. I awoke rested, and work was less a torturous son of a bitch. Really uneventful. Yvette and I both had doctor’s appointments, and while hers were a little more time-consuming, mine took a mere ten minutes. It took longer getting to and from. What an easy forty dollars they made off my unfortunate soul.
Wednesday, I was on a blitz attack, kicking aside my foes one by one. I swiftly battled my way through the day and its tribulations. The only blow I received was a nail in my tire. It seemed the gods were with me, though, for the nail was—for once in my lifetime—not in the sidewall but planted dead center. I suppose that could also be considered a win.
The rest of the week I stayed on the offensive, taking on the world as it came at me. One battle after another, I was victorious. Yvette dodged the bullets by working from home, strategizing her own victory, for her real trial would be on Monday when she officially returned to the office. Poor girl had no idea what was in store for her.
On a more serious note: WTF is going on in this country? I mean, I could say this every damn day at this point. On Wednesday, a government-employed agent shot and killed a frightened woman who was only trying to get away from armed men with masks. An innocent woman. Who had just dropped off her six-year-old child. Shot in the face three times at point-blank range. The video was very clear. This was unprovoked. My eyes do not lie.
Now, you would think this would be met with outrage by all who had seen the video. You would think. What happened instead is frightening to behold. The Trump crowd is trying to spin this woman as a domestic terrorist who was using her vehicle as a weapon and trying to run over the ICE agent. That is the spin they are spinning. And people are listening to them!!! Even though they have eyes like I do, they are choosing not to believe what they can see. I don’t even know what to make of this. Our reality has become insane.
From the movie In the Mouth of Madness: “A reality is just what we tell each other it is. Sane and insane could easily switch places if the insane were to become the majority.”
This administration is a tragedy for a great country.
The first day of the long break found Yvette and I getting some much-needed sleep. It was weird not being awoken by Alaya on a weekend. When I got out of bed, I decided to make biscuits and gravy.
It was time to make tamales. Yvette took off to her parents’ place while I cleaned up the kitchen and got myself ready. This was the third year that I’ve helped make tamales with her family. When I got there, they had pretty much finished, but I was able to help with about two dozen. The finished product was so damn tasty.
After the work was done, we all sat down and watched the Texas A&M vs. Miami game. The game was 0–0 at half. It was a boring-ass game… until it wasn’t. The first points came from field goals—3–3. These teams decided to make moves during the fourth quarter. The Aggies made some serious mistakes toward the end of the game, including one fatal mistake while trying to tie it up. They threw what should have been a touchdown but instead ended up with an interception, winning the game for Miami. Terrible. Damn Aggies.
Christmas farm. So Yvette and I brought the little girl out to a farm on the outskirts of town. They had cocoa, cookies, Santa, and ponies. We really wanted to see if Alaya would ride the ponies, and to our delight, she did—with a smile. It was great and worth the almost hour-long wait.
After the pony ride, we got on a hayride dragged along by a tractor. She seemed entertained, and that’s what mattered. I know she likely won’t remember it, but Yvette and I will.
Sunday morning, Yvette was not happy when I awoke. Damn mothers and daughters. I swear it changes the mood in the whole house.
I made breakfast, took a walk, ran errands, and bullshitted around. We had the baby again. It was a good day.
Monday, we made a final stocking-stuffer run to a few stores. I went up into the attic to find one missing stocking, and while I was up there, I pulled down another Christmas tree. I thought the living room could use a little more light. I think it looked great.
Taking advantage of the day, I took Hazel for another walk. I feel like she deserves it. This sweet girl is ten years old. She isn’t the beast on a leash that she once was. All the pull has left her, which makes for a relaxed walking experience—yet it’s also rather sad. We all get old. Ten years ago, I also had a lot more pull in me.
That afternoon. I met my dear friend Art at the bar he was working. I ran into some old faces I hadn’t seen in a long time. These were my happy hour crew from the darker days of my life. A handful of older folk that accepted my youth with open arms. It was good catching up and laughing my ass off with them again.
That evening Yvette and I went to eat with my mom. We had some drinks and good laughs. My mom was spending Christmas in the Houston area so I wasn’t going to see her again until after the holiday. It’s rather sad not having her around on Christmas Day, but I’ll have Yvette’s family and they are great.
Tuesday, I assembled my new grill. It didn’t take all that long once I figured out how to read the instructions. Deciphering instructions can initially be a real bitch. I only had one goof-up that was easily fixed. I was excited to try this thing out, but I needed materials first.
Christmas Eve, I slept in at my mom’s while Yvette got up early to get her hair done. We weren’t supposed to be going to church until three, but around eleven I found out that Lola had changed the plans, and now we were going at one. What the hell!!!
I got dressed and finally made an executive decision on what to get my in-laws from the both of us: a gift card to a new steakhouse in town. That could be a good night out for the two of them. I want them to enjoy themselves alone for a change. They do so much cooking for everybody—they deserve a break.
Back at the house, I quickly cut my hair and got dressed for church. This is such a weird church experience compared to what I grew up with. I swear, it’s like a fucking rock concert. So weird, but enjoyable enough. It’s only once a year, and I like sharing this single church event with the family.
Afterward, Yvette and I went to visit her grandparents. Grandfather had recently taken a fall—recently as in the day before. Poor guy. He was lucid but looked pretty banged up. I can relate; I’ve fallen a few times myself. You look worse for the wear. He was tired of people looking at him.
That night it was time for Die Hard. I snuck it in early before everyone wanted the “real” Christmas movies. It’s been a Christmas Eve tradition for my brother and me for years, so I figured, why the hell not. We also made Christmas cookies. I must say, it was different having a family in the house on Christmas Eve. I’d never experienced that before.
It was one of the best Christmas Eves I’ve had in years. It’s been a long time since I’ve ended my evening with people instead of alone. My heart was warm with joy.
Christmas morning, we were all out of bed by 8:30 to open presents. It was fun watching the little ones rip apart the paper with a senseless sort of joy. All the kids knew what they were getting, but even then, the spirit was in the air and everyone was happy. I wish I could have gotten them more, but going in with Yvette allowed us to buy bigger-ticket gifts.
Guamanian BBQ pork, chicken, cucumber salad, wasabi crab salad, and red rice. Late lunch was at my brother-in-law’s house. It was a real feast and different for me. I was happy to have something with a real kick to it. The crab salad was something special—unlike anything I’d ever thought crab could taste like.
What made this Christmas feel unlike Christmas was the damn temperature being 80 degrees and the AC kicking on. Everyone made note of it.
I guess we spent about four hours over at RJ’s house. The entire damn day flew by far too fast. How the hell does that happen? I guess it means we were all enjoying each other.
Yvette got me Neil Young’s Tonight’s the Night 50th Anniversary Edition. It was the album in full, unlike how it had ever been released before. It had been teased since before I was born. My dad would listen to this album when I was a baby in the crib. I know I can’t recall those days.
On a trip to Austin when I was young, we stopped by a music store. My dad picked up some albums on CD that he only had on vinyl—CDs were the rage in the ’90s. One of the albums he grabbed was Tonight’s the Night. In the car ride home, he put it on. When I heard the opening bass line, a sense of familiarity washed over me. I got goosebumps. Later, my father told me we used to listen to this together when I was a baby.
I was excited to play this version of the album featuring tracks that got cut due to time. My dad always told me the album was recorded live in the studio in one night. Later, I read about it and wanted the uncut version he spoke of. Thirty-plus years later, I finally have it.
I knew hearing the album for the first time since my father passed eight years ago would affect me. I didn’t know I’d start sobbing like a baby. I know the original cuts like I know my own face in the mirror, but the additional tracks felt familiar and not at all out of place. This was the definitive version I was hearing for the first time. Thank you, Yvette, for getting it for me. I only wish my dad were here to hear it with me. I love him. I miss him.
Christmas night, Yvette and I had Alaya again and took her with us to watch my mother’s dogs. We watched a Christmas movie—Office Christmas Party. It was funny, but not great. Alaya was just having a blast with my mother’s dog, Boa. She loves him and follows him around.
It was a damn good Christmas. I did miss my side of the family, but I was lucky to have Yvette’s family there. It’s good to spend the day with those you love and who love you back. Merry Christmas!!
Friday, Yvette and I just relaxed on the couch and didn’t leave my mother’s house until after three in the afternoon. We watched some “Hallmark”-quality Christmas movies, and later I put on Wake Up Dead Man. We lost track of time, and I rushed home to throw a rack of ribs in the oven for dinner.
During the three hours the ribs cooked, I ran some errands and did a little grocery shopping. Yvette’s aunts came over with some Christmas gifts. Once the ribs were done, we dove in and ate like pigs.
Saturday, we lounged again at my mother’s before she got home with the nephews. It was a warm 80 degrees outside, so we went out for a little patio lunch. How often does one get that chance on December 27th? Take advantage of the unseasonably warm weather.
My mom got back into town with my oldest nephews. I was excited to see them, and we all went out to dinner at Lakehouse Pizzeria. All the family was there except Lola and Alaya, sadly. It was a great time—and the food. Chef’s kiss.
That night was quiet. I watched an episode of Stranger Things and had some spiked hot chocolate. Relaxed. The house was quiet without the little girl. Too quiet.
The next day, I went to meet everyone over at the in-laws’. What a treat it was: steak and baked potato. This was what we were originally going to have for Christmas dinner, so I was excited to finally be having it. Everything turned out great.
After lunch, I got baby Niles’s Christmas present out of the back of my car and watched Noah and his friend put the car together. I was laughing because they didn’t bother to read the instructions, and after they finished, they wondered why so many screws were left. Hilarious.
I went out to see my nephews and visited for a little while. It was nice and warm when I went into my mother’s house and cold and windy when I walked out the door. Lord, does the weather ever change in Texas.
We had a shrimp boil that night. Yvette and I did the shopping, and Noah came over and did the cooking. Lola came home with the baby, so it was a nice full house—full of family. Two babies playing. Lots of laughs.
The cold front finally made its arrival while the shrimp and pot were cooking. Of course it did. The wind picked up something fierce, but it didn’t stop us. When it was finally time to eat, we stuffed our faces. Shrimp, sausage, potatoes, corn, and delicious mushrooms. The mushrooms soak up so much flavor. It was a wonderful night.
Monday, that cold son of a bitch had dug in like an Alabama tick. It was overcast and freezing—I mean that. While I was out running errands, I had little balls of ice bouncing off my windshield. Just light sleet. It was supposed to snow, but it never happened. Sad, because I had my nephews all hyped up for it. Them being from Houston, they don’t see snow very often.
By Tuesday, the sun was back out and it had warmed up nicely. I spent the day doing things around the house and eventually chased a squirrel up into the attic. In the process, I tripped over some of Lola’s crap in the garage, so I decided to clean out the attic above it to start putting things up there and out of the way.
The prior owners had left about ten boxes up there in a small space. I brought them down one by one and went through them—mostly old bank statements, tax forms, and transaction records. This guy kept everything. One box had more personal material inside: birth certificates for their kids, a wedding license, newspaper cutouts, just random shit. Did you know you could obtain a legal document that obligates the wife to excuse the husband from drinking and doing all sorts of crazy shit? Wild.
When I finally reached for the last box, three hours later, it wouldn’t budge. This one had more than paper in it. What I discovered was pottery—an entire set along with some mismatched pieces. They looked hand-painted. The newspaper they were wrapped in was from 1965. Had they been in the attic for sixty years? Holy shit.
What I discovered was that they were made by a woman named M. A. Hadley, a famous pottery artist born in 1921. She passed away in 1965. Was that why they were stored away in the attic—for safekeeping? Looking up the prices for modern sets, I already knew the brand was expensive. If these were original, what might they be worth?
After cleaning up, I went out to my mother’s to visit with the nephews again before they left in the morning. The time we have with others just doesn’t last as long as we want it to. I wish they could have stayed longer.
New Year’s Day started with a doctor’s appointment, followed by downtown exploring and Korean lunch. Yvette and I needed a lunch date. I was surprised we didn’t really go out to eat much during our time off.
The meal jacked my blood sugar up pretty high, so I decided to take Hazel for a little walk to try and lower it. Did the trick nicely. Hazel is enjoying the daddy-daughter time, and it’s good for both of us.
I had errands to run before the night’s festivities. I wasn’t entirely sure how many businesses would be open on New Year’s Day, so I ran around gathering what I’d need. When I got back home, I found Yvette asleep on the couch. I guess the queso for the night was on me to make, which I was happy to knock out.
That evening, we spent New Year’s at my in-laws’. We had pulled pork sandwiches, ribs, and potato salad. Roger made me a nice strong drink, and I was instantly relaxed. The Cotton Bowl was on TV, and Miami won against Ohio—a surprise. More drinks went down the gullet, and eventually we all sat around waiting for midnight. Everyone was tired, and it pained us to make it to the new year, but we endured.
Happy New Year!!! Goodbye 2025! Hello 2026!!!
New Year’s Day started off exactly as one might expect: a sink overflow in the bathroom at 6:50 a.m. I cleaned it and fed the dogs—no big deal. As I finished the chores, I stood in the kitchen watching the most beautiful sunrise I’d seen in a long time. The sky was full of pinks and purples as the fire in the east slowly rose. I was excited for the day. I was excited for the new year. It began as any does, but with a little bit of chaos. I think that’s okay.
That day, I decided it was time to season my new Blackstone. It took over two hours—heat, apply seasoning, wait fifteen minutes, start all over again, times five. I enjoyed it. It was like a long tutorial session. I sat outside, read my book, and tended to the grill. When I finished, I felt good. We grilled that night.
I cooked breakfast outside the next morning and basically just chilled until 1:30, when I took Hazel for a walk. We’re enjoying our walks on these nice days. Afterward, I went hunting for sheep. I found three—and a few squirrels, too. I drove around the lake and through areas I hadn’t been in years. It’s amazing how quickly things change. I felt nostalgia out the ass..
Saturday, Yvette and Tee took off to Fort Worth to look at a truck, which they did end up buying—awesome. I slept in. That drive there and back kills my back, so I made a pass on the journey.
Once out of bed, I needed to clean the shower tiles. I hate cleaning tile—it’s a real pain in the ass. After that bullshit was knocked out, I ran some errands around town and took my merry ass time.
I had the urge for Chinese food and decided to hit up a joint I hadn’t been to since 2016: Wok n Rice. Damn the luck—they were closed for the holidays. I made the drive to the north side for nothing. Or did I…
Another place Yvette and I had meant to try last holiday break was right around the corner, so I figured, why the hell not. It wasn’t Chinese, but Thai-Japanese fusion. I ordered the chicken katsu, which I only knew about from pictures that had haunted me on Facebook for over a year.
The place itself was small and nothing fancy. Honestly, that’s exactly what I want when walking into a place I haven’t been to yet. The staff was super quick and nice, and the food was mind-blowing. I wasn’t expecting the complimentary soup and salad like you get at hibachi grills. I feel safe bringing Yvette next time, having tried it for myself.
While on that side of town, I decided to visit my grandparents’ grave. It had been way too long, and I couldn’t really tell you why. I wasn’t even sure I could find the site without wandering, but my memory served me better than expected—it only took a couple of minutes.
Looking at the grave, I decided it needed flowers. I was utterly unprepared. I promptly left and drove across town to get some to lay on the grave. As I made my way back, I felt a peace wash over me. Maybe I needed to do this.
I took a little walk through the cemetery and once again realized how peaceful a cemetery actually is. Relaxing. Not sad at all. Communing with the deceased should be peaceful. I was happy with my impromptu decision to visit them.
Sunday, we took down all of Christmas. I finished Welcome to Derry, and Yvette and I watched Alaya. It was the end of our little holiday. I guess it had to end.
Until next time. Cheers, 2026!!
Breakfast photos from the holiday, because why not.
En Fuego 