Escape to Galvatraz

Friday morning found me awake at the crack of dawn, last minute panic packing for what was forecasted to be a typhoon weekend in Galveston.

Every, single, time I head to the coast a monsoon ensues. I have single handedly discovered how to end the drought in Texas. My fellow Texans: You. Are. Welcome!

As I raced toward the office for my super early day (that would be 8 am sharp :) my truck started to shake and shimmy. Panic welled up in my soul as I was JUST thinking how fantastic it would be if my darling truck coughed and seized up mid trip, somewhere along the 200 mile hike to Galveston. I immediately called Yost Automotive and scheduled my drop off, the deciding factors being: A) They would shuttle me to and from work, and B) They are located within 2 miles of my office.

Yost was fantastic! They got me all fixed up in a jiffy (spark plug and coil failure) and let's just go ahead and throw it out there... They're also REALLY good looking. When the dream boat mechanic picked me up from the office around noon, he asked what kind of shooting I've been doing.

I was all like, "What gave me away?"

His reply, "Uh, it was definitely the two CASES of shotgun shells in your front seat."

Riiiiight... So after discussing the merits of 20 gauges versus 12 gauges, the pros and cons of the over and under versus the semi-auto, he totally asked me on a Skeet shooting date. Yep. That happened.

After an excellent save by Yost, I raced to College Station to meet the Cake Boss before driving on toward the coast. We had many encouraging texts along the way from our island sponsor and the love of our life, Little Tiny Tinsley.

Some of the good ones included:

"Good morning you magnificent bitches! Let me know your progress through the day. Weather is shitty down here so be careful!"

"Hahah! So you guys have planned to leave so you get stuck in Houston traffic again.... Good job. Stay on the beltway this time!"

To which we immediately ignored her advice. Thus we got stuck on 610 in hella traffic, made 18 pit stops due to the mass quantities of Cerveza the co-pilot was drinking (me) and randomly ran into a gorgeous friend from high school at the mall (pit stop # 16). All in all, fantastic trip. The best part? NO RAIN!

We met the Clam (MKT, Screaming Eagle, The Kid, Dirty D and Tiny) for fantastic chow at Luna's in the Friendly Wood, before kickin' it at the casa of MKT and the Cap. Sadly we missed the Cap as he was a workin.'

Saturday morning Dirty D, the host with the most, cooked our bleary faces some breakfast tacos while Tiny took Pooch Number Two to the vet. Poor Seamus had been coerced to eat a rawhide bone before he decided swallowing it whole was the most efficient way to accomplish that task. His sad face and constant whining won him a free round trip ticket to the radiology department. Apparently he was only deficient in vitamin X, as a good dose of irradiation fixed his sad self right up. Diagnosis: colic. Annnnd no more rawhides for that little dummy. The end.

After breakfast, Cake Boss and I busted out a Crossfit WOD with Tiny before we headed out to jog the beach. It was fantabulous. And hot. And then poor Cake Boss sent me this text, mid jog: "Break my window and hot wire my truck. Come get me. I'm dying."

But we survived and we also took some fab photos.

Disclaimer: I'm using a new blogger app for my smart phone... So I have NO IDEA where those photos will post... Or how to move them about. So please enjoy the randomness!

Saturday afternoon we packed up Dirty D's truck and headed to the West Side (insert gang sign) of Galveston Beach. We soaked up some sand and sun and generally shot the shit. We finished our day with burgers, Bloody Mary's and a little Ben and Jerry's. Eh. What can I say? Ben and Jerry's happens to the best of us :-)

Now then. Cake Boss and I have one more jog to conquer and this time
I'm taking the love of my life, Russell B. Frio Dawg with us. I enjoy a good drag first thing in morning!

We're hitting' the road early today so we can get back in time to celebrate our wonderful Mothers.

I sure hope you all had as great of a weekend in your respective parts of the world. And please, remember to call your Mothers!

An Exercise in Love

This past week I finally pushed through a shit pile of resistance and joined a women’s coaching group hosted by a dear friend of mine who is an amazing life coach.  You can check out her fantastic work here:  Kayla Burns Floyd.

Once I agreed and jotted the date down on my calendar, it was shockingly easy.  Like floating through light, fluffy clouds instead of trudging up this muddy stream of shit I had created in my mind.  It really took no effort at all.  I just had to be willing.

Frankly, I had also run flat out of excuses.  Kayla may have also looked me directly in the eye and told me point blank to get my ass there.

 Whatevs.  Something worked.  And I am so grateful am I that I was finally brave enough to say yes.

The format for this meeting was self love and self nurturing.  Whoo whee!  Well isn’t that some deep shit homies?  And how appropriate were these topics as I embark on my newest journey of singledom? 

If you are anything like me, self deprecation comes much to easy and this self love mumbo jumbo is a wee bit more difficult to get your mind around.

In fact, I feel as if I’ve spent the majority of my life looking for love and nurturing from my significant other, my fuzzy little critters, my friends, my family and my God. I have looked high and low for something to fill my emptiness, something to patch my insides, meanwhile forgetting that first and foremost I am ALLOWED to love myself.  Did you know we are allowed to say kind things to ourselves and nurture our own happiness?  Yep. That’s a true story folks.

After our group ended we were each asked what we were able to take away from the evening. 

Right then I set an intention to write myself a love letter like Kayla had shared with us.  Instead of looking for love in all the wrong places, I plan to start practicing some self love.  Like right now.  Or between playing golf and shooting skeet…  And in between my polo lessons and work.  ;-)

Here it goes:

Dearest Gator,

I will always love you. Just like your most favorite dog. Even more than that, and you know that’s a whole helluva lot.  I will always be by your side.  You will never be alone.  I will always have a warm embrace waiting for you.  I will always be your bestfriend. 

I will encourage your silliness and your happiness.  I will encourage your dreams and indulge your desires.  I will give you a gentle nudge when you get stuck in fear or hesitation. I will hold you close every night and kiss your forehead gently before you close your beautiful eyes.  I will never, ever leave you.

My heart shatters when you are sad or lonely because I am always here for you.  I will do my best every day to brighten your world, to make you smile.  You have the most beautiful smile.  I wish that you may never quit smiling, not even for a moment.

I want to grow old with you. I absolutely can’t wait to see where this magical life shall next lead.  I will walk hand in hand with you across beaches and down sidewalks.  I want to spend the rest of our life eating delicious ice cream cones and capturing sunrises and sunsets together.  I will always be right here, just for you. 

Gator, I am so incredibly proud of you!  You could never disappoint me.  You are exactly where you are supposed to be.  Trust in that.  Trust in you.   I will always keep you safe in my loving embrace. Keep shining my love.     

Sister Love!

Living Out Loud

I moved into my new place February 17^th and began “borrowing” internet from my neighbor until approximately the end of March…  Before he grew wise, secured his network and I began living a somewhat quiet life without cable and without internet.  The hell!  The Agony!

With nothing but time, time, time on my hands…  I’ve taken up a few new hobbies.  Drinking, dancing and cavorting being the most predominate. 

But I have also fallen in love with this little lady whom I’ve named Lucy:

Isn't she just darling?

So thus I’ve begun spending a large portion of my time shooting shit. 

If you’ve never tried it, I highly recommend it.  It’s incredibly empowering and super LOUD.  When you live in the oldest barrio in Tejas it’s nice to have a little Lucy sleeping beside you.  Or right under your pillow.  Whatever your preference.

Owning a handgun has also brought me and my Pops a bit closer.  My new gun enthusiasm has also sparked some mighty interesting conversations.  Pops was at Academy a few weeks ago picking up shells for the range and he called to ask what I was shooting.  When I asked him to grab me some 38 special + P, he texted me back to say, “No baby.  We already discussed this.  Those are for shooting INSIDE the house!”  

Oh, yes… Yes, of course!  What was I thinking?  (He wants me to keep a better class of ammo for home protection rather than blasting the expensive stuff all willy nilly on the range.  And I send up prayers on the regular to the Sweet Baby Jesus in the sky that I never have to actually shoot inside my house.  But, if I must, that I’m an accurate shot.  Amen.)

Pops and I were at the range testing out a new assault rifle when he confidently informed me that the AR 15 is the leading gun for home protection.  “Oh really?” I asked skeptically.  (Eyebrows raised.  Insert crazy face.)  “Where do you think we live Pops?  This isn’t exactly the fucking Congo.”  To which he just smiled and shook his head before gently placing the little beauty that is the AR 15 into my hands.   

Although the gun range has proven beneficial for dad and daughter bonding, I’ve also decided that it’s a fantastic place for dates.  First dates or otherwise.  I’ve come to the realization that all women should be armed while out on dates, but mostly I just need someone to pull for me while I shoot skeet. 

One of my friends brought this little fella out to the range a few months ago and I fell hook, line and sinker…  I am in LOVE with shooting clays.

Browning Citori Over and Under Shotgun 

I need to buy stock in Academy and/or McBride’s with the amount of shopping I’ve been doing there recently.  I'm trying to practice shooting skeet once or twice a week, ever since my most favorite brother in law in the whole wide world loaned me this little lady:

Remington 780 Single Pump Shotgun

Her name’s Stella.

I had my first skeet shooting lesson last week and what can I say folks?  I’m kind of a rock star.  It appears that I managed to inherit a fair share of my Pops’ eye hand coordination along with his hypoglycemia and fantastic temper.  Yay!   

Did I mention I managed to break DOUBLES with Stella, my single action pump shotgun?  Yep.  I sure did.  Boo yah bitches.  Boo yah.  My tee-tiny instructor may have also told me that I have great natural eye hand coordination and that it was really fun to coach somebody that can actually break clays.  Wahoo!  I almost tackled her with a joyous bear hug because I could hardly contain the enthusiasm that was bursting from my insides.  But don’t worry, I totally managed to keep my cool.  Instead I settled for a little jumping, yelling and fist pumping.  Like I said, I was totally cool.

And that’s what’s a happening in my happy little world.  How goes it in yours?