Remember that cool front that blew in last weekend?
Boy, I love a good cold front. Where it happens fast and the difference is noticeable.
But, I will say it became an issue for us later that evening in Glen Rose ...
We stopped at a fun place called Cactus Jack’s on the way to Glen Rose, believe it was in Alvarado. New boots for everyone! I was even delighted when we got to town and I was forced to don a cute new red cardigan in addition to my cute new leather shoe-booties (say it fast, it’s more fun).
After unloading our stuff in our awesome suite there on the main drag, we stopped at Hammond’s for some barbecue, then did a little sightseeing to kill time until the play began. (We took an anniversary trip to Glen Rose to see The Promise last weekend, for those who missed my column last week.) We stopped for gas across the street from the arena, Expo Center thing, and while Mr. Kirk was putting the cap back on the tank nozzle we spotted some of our kids in a three-truck convoy pulling in with cattle trailers at the arena. Coincidence? Quite!
We moseyed over to say hello, and then headed up the hill to the amphitheater. Just as we got out to stand in the “will call” line for our tickets, it began to rain. Now mind you, I’m wearing my cute white furry jacket at this point over my cute cardigan, because it is cold. Now it is cold and wet, and all I have for shelter is a weary, old, pitiful-looking Daily Sun umbrella.
Once we finally got our tickets, we dashed back to the car to wait. I mean, there was no place dry in the amphitheater except the bathrooms. We huddled in the car for what seemed like forever, all the while, Mr. Kirk receiving softball updates from our youngest daughter who was in a tournament in Waco — where it was bone dry.
Finally, the rain stopped, and armed with napkins from the glove box, we made our way into the amphitheater, taking the umbrella for insurance. Our seats were great, and we settled in for a lovely, albeit chilly, evening.
This amphitheater is very cool (as in “neat”). It even has a “river” where they baptize, wash clothes, and presumably utilize the boat we spotted. As cold as it was, I wondered if the river was heated, or if all the people in the baptismal scene were actually speaking through chattering teeth.
About the time Satan showed up to start tempting Jesus, the bottom dropped out again. We crouched together under our shabby umbrella, my left side getting soaked and Mr. Kirk’s right side. The couple in front of us had their umbrella tilted backward — I presume to block our view less — but the result was the rain ran right off it and straight onto my new leather shoe-booties.
Finally I just couldn’t take it anymore and announced we were leaving. As we got in our car, the loudspeaker lady announced they would continue the show, as the radar was showing no more storms behind ours. Will said he didn’t know what radar THEY were looking at, as the one he saw had a huge storm coming right behind our current situation.
On our way back down the hill to our hotel, we saw the kids loading up cattle in the arena, so we stopped to visit. Heck, we were soaked already, what was a little more rain and manure? Our 3-year-old grandson was running amuck in the arena, so he was finally put in the truck. Just as they were starting to load the final trailer, headlights began coming down the hill one after another. Finally, the mass exodus. The play was called, so we missed nothing (well, nothing that anyone else that night got to see.)
After hugs, waves, and 100 “be carefuls” on my part, we watched the kids drive away as we went to our warm, comfy suite, where we cuddled in bed with vending machine treats and watched the final episode of Breaking Bad on the laptop.
And no, that irony is not lost on me.
Deanna Kirk is a Daily Sun staff writer and editor of Explore magazine. Her column appears on Saturdays. She may be reached by email at email@example.com. Want to “Soundoff” on this column? Email: firstname.lastname@example.org
Remember that cool front that blew in last weekend?
Old, new, borrowed, blue
Dissection of notes found in the pocket of an old suit isn’t easy. Maybe they were scrawled during the lull in a wedding ceremony, or to jog my memory of a joke for later use.
Spam french fries
I saw a relatively disturbing video and article on Yahoo which touted making Spam French fires to go alongside your big old ground chuck burger. I just can’t imagine a basket full of these deep-fried cholesterol-loaded sticks, but there they were, bigger than Texas.
Dumb and dumber in the blotter
When it comes to dumb criminals, nothing beats the would-be gang of car burglars who tried to break into a car in Tampa, Florida, this past week.
‘Change’ — old "buzz word" shows up in our town
If you pay much attention when you’re driving around town lately (and I really hope that you do — pay attention, that is) you can’t help but admit we’ve seen some “change” as of late. And, contrary to the political connotations that word will forever carry with it now, that “change” we’re seeing is good.
Germany present and past
Last Sunday evening my wife and I stood on the balcony of our apartment in Nuremberg and watched as fireworks lit up the sky.
Where strawberries are king
In 1949, when Stilwell, Oklahoma’s “Strawberry Festival” was just one year old, crooners were applauded when they cut loose with Dear Hearts and Gentle People.
My TV is held hostage
Give me back my TV! The Sunday sports fare today is just pitiful as far as I am concerned. Over the past weeks, my normal sports programs has been rudely preempted by endless hours of Wimbledon tennis, the Tour de France, assorted motor sports, and the nauseating mega-million signing sagas of LeBron James and Carmello Anthony
Thoughts from abroad
So, with the generosity of Mastercard and warm encouragement of my friends who went with me, I went to Italy on vacation. Not Italy, Texas, the one in Europe.
For a community that’s hurting
I think all would agree that our community is hurting right now.
It seems like some weeks, our quota of tragedy and loss just goes through the roof. This is one of those weeks.
An inspiring life
Last week, while Americans prepared their fireworks for the fourth of July, Louis Zamparini quietly slipped the bonds of this earth at the age of 97.
- More Opinion Headlines
- Old, new, borrowed, blue