Here’s a clue. Now, most of you know that I work in downtown BigD. That aerial pan of the stem of Reunion Tower, and the Hyatt Regency Hotel, is just west of where I get off the train in the morning. And only a few blocks from my office building.
Today we are having our support staff retreat, and we are having it at the last place you see in that YouTube clip. Yes, after nearly 30 years of being a naturalized Texan, I am finally hitching up my pony and riding up to Southfork! [I’ll be sure to give J.R. a swift kick in his womanizing shins. He can pay one of his henchmen to pass it on to Middlest’s STBX. And I’ll hand SueEllen a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and tell her, “Enough with that trembling-lip thing. Eat some ice cream and get over it.”]
The attorneys are in charge of the phones, the fax machine, the mail, the scanning, and the flirting with the couriers.
Yes, I am taking my knitting. It’s a long, long drive from Foat Wuth Ah Luv Yew to Parker, TX. And I will be sitting in meetings for a good chunk of the morning. I am doing the there portion in two segments, stopping somewhere halfway for a hot chocolate [or a something] and some walking about, before I complete the drive. I am doing the back here portion in multiple segments, stopping at yarn shops along the way. Actual purchases are not in the budget. I will get out and walk, look at the colors and textures, stretch my legs, and maybe make new friends.
Thinking back to “Dallas”. I didn’t get to watch it very often. It was a new show when we moved to Texas after what I call The Great Ice Storm of ‘78/’79. We lived with the parents of friends for about a month until we both found work, and then we didn’t have a TV until the summer of 1984, when the children’s father was doing contract programming, and an assignment took him to the Texas Panhandle for two or three months.
My parents bought us a color TV so three little girls and I could have a bit of fun while he was gone. [He was in Amarillo with the car; I was in Irving with the kids and the money and no way to spend it, except when our home teacher’s wife took me grocery shopping every couple of weeks. I don’t remember how we got to church, only that we did.]
We watched Cosby and Mr. Rogers [and Sesame Street, long before the time when Elmo and political correctness ruined it]. I remember watching the Springsteen video of “Dancing in the Dark” on Entertainment Tonight! and missing my husband. I still love that song, particularly “…just about starvin’ tonight.” Not much has changed in 24 years, other than I am better at disciplining or ignoring my appetites.
Random fact: I was about half done with the cuff of the second Anastasia when I went to bed last night.
Good report from the dentist visit. I have happy gums! I think this is attributable to more veggies and less pasta, and to the fact that every so often, after I brush my teeth holding the brush in my dominant hand, I switch over to the other one and go over the same territory.
I opted to skip the fluoride veneer after the cleaning [nasty-tasting stuff; I would sooner chew on one of my socks!] in favor of a Breakfast Jack and some hash brown sticks on the way to the train station. I had to park in the back lot and walk down the hill, and when I was about 100 yards from the train [maybe less], the train pulled out. So I walked back up the hill, got into the car, called in to see if anybody’s monthly parking was available today. It was not.
I didn’t have enough cash for more gas and to pay for parking, so I told them I would wait for the next train, and I dashed home for a quick potty break and rode in from my regular station and not the one that is several miles due north of the dentist’s office.
And this is the part where Heaven’s fingerprints show up all over the experience. When I got off the train this morning, there was a petite middle-aged lady with a carry-on bag and a lost expression. Now, I know my way around downtown Dallas about as well as I know how to play football, but she needed to find the Greyhound station, and it is near my office. So I walked with her, and we talked. She had flown in from the Upper Midwest to Dallas, because she couldn’t get a flight to San Antonio from her home. And she needed to catch the bus to get down to the Valley [that would be the Rio Grande Valley, for you non-Texans], because her mother is turning 80 this weekend.
When we parted ways, I wished her “Vaya con Dios.” She blinked, smiled, and responded with something in liquid Spanish that at first I didn’t understand, but it came to me by way of the Spirit, and I understood her: “Igualmente.”
When I get to be one small part of blessing a sister, how can I doubt that Heaven will sustain me when I feel lost, or lonely, or uncertain which way to walk to reach my goal?
- Five years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!