Roaches Get the Runs

For lack of better comedic fodder, indulge me again on the topic of cockroaches. The roaches and I have developed an uneasy but livable relationship, at least on my part. I've grown in boldness from merely scaring them off to actually applying extermination measures of various forms and levels of effectiveness.

Two weeks ago, I awoke to find that a nectarine in my fruitbowl had a child sized bite taken out of it, with drippy remains of what was most likely, a digestively unpleasant night for my crunchy friends. After laughing audibly at the idea of bugs having the runs, my mood sifted to a fierce frustration and sincere resolve. Much like Joey, of the sitcom "Friends" I'm fairly easy to live with, just don't eat my food!

So, last week I went to Wal-Mart. Don't judge me, I am living in Texas. At said purveyor, I purchased a brown, lumpy substance in a chaulking tube that promised to lure roaches to feast and then send back to their nests to die. This option pleased me most as it was passive in nature and did not require direct contact on my part. Going home, I installed the goo with wincing, furrowed brow and watched in AWE as a large brown roach literally came out from below the countertop to feed AS I WAS SQUEEZING OUT THE GUNK. This I watched with morbid relish, and I squirm even as I retell it.

Unfortunately, not all roach varieties have the same appetite for the goo. There is a small variety of red roach, and when I say smaller, it's still twice as big as any bug I've ever seen back home, which is resistent to the poisons' olfactory lure. #$%!

These creatures have however, given me the opporunity to expand my extermination techniques to more applied measures. Late last week I literally came face to face with a Red (the cold war reference might reak of McCarthyism, but it serves to give name to my enemy) as I was bending down to load the dishwasher. Bastard. I went for the kill. Did I use brute force-- the heel of a blunt object? No, I fought with all my Rosie the Riveter fortitude, ran to the bathroom, found my can of John Frieda Beautiful Blonde hair spray and dosed the mother until it's little antenna were fused and it surrendered onto it's back and began its gutts oozing death dance.

While this encounter marked my first hands assasination, that John Frieda crap is not cheap. The next one got only a quick spritz, just to disorient it and then a wopping from my broom. Let's just say that the blow killed more than the bug and I'm not the proud owner of a Swiffer.

This week, I'm proud to say that I've truly arrived to the next level of preparedness, having gone out and purchased a supersized can of Raid that I've thankfully only had cause to use once this week. The attack began in the kitchen and found me running, can in hand, spray foaming forth, into the "dinning room" i.e. the bar counter, onto the carpet and just short of the coach. In the words of John McClane, "Yippie-ki-yay..." well, you know the rest.

The List

Life has settled into a nice little routine here at the Cabochon at Las Colinas. I get up at 6 a.m., okay, it's really more like 6:30...ish...and I'm out the door by 7:30 to squeeze into work around the 8 a.m. mark. Once a week I get Starbucks on the way--I know, I'm a wild woman.

I've started taking COD (Counselor on Duty) appointments at work. I heart COD. Pretty much COD is as unpredictable as life itself. You never know who is going to walk through the door. It could be a 40-year-old wanting to know how their 20-year-old art school credit hours will transfer into a nursing program or a homeschool family demanding a reasonable explanation for the difference between early admission and dual enrollment, which is like explaining to a fish the difference between swimming and breathing underwater.

Earlier this week my co-worker (Rae-Rae) got a call from a man who wanted to know where certain information could be located. Patiently, Raquel responded, "Yes, you can find that on our university website, u-t-a dot e-d-u." To this the gentleman replied, "Oh yes, oota.edu, I've used that site before." Oota. Gotta love it. So if anyone asks where I am, and why I'm in Texas, you can tell them I'm working for oota.

On a completely extemporaneous note, the men at the table next to me, who are chain-smoking and probably doing efficient work of poisoning my healthy lungs, just exchanged a poinant piece of sociopolitical fodder:
"Hey man, have you been watching the Olympics?"
"Nah, not really"
"Are the Lebanonese good at any of the events? (the other man is from Lebanon)
"Yeah, killing each other. But, that's not yet an Olympic sport."

........

So, as previously promised, I've been meditating on the things I enjoy most about Texas and the things it seems (thus far at least) that I'll always miss about home. Here's the breakdown:

Texas has...
beautiful twilights and gorgeous sunsets
SWEET TEA
Chic-fil-a waffle fries
diverse people
southern charm
horizontal traffic lights
state pride
cheaper gasoline
lightning storms
half price book stores
hobby lobby
dollar theatres (okay, it's actually $1.75, but only .50 on Tuesdays!)
the 4th largest metroplex in the nation
and Troy, my friend from Austin who added himself to the list (bless his heart)

Despite all this goodness, I miss Oregon's...
cool nights
Independently owned coffee shops
TACO DEL MAR
scenic mountainscapes
Hippies
diversity of political thought
fresh seafood!
beautiful college campuses
craftsmen style residential architecture
fir trees
Powell's Bookstore
non-tolled freeways
strictly enforced tobacco smoking laws
Pacific Ocean beaches
Solid Rock Fellowship
Northwest music scene
natural high lakes (Texas only has one natural lake)
and of course, Oregon's very own special blend of people who keep part of me with them no matter where I go, the Myhre clan at large, the KCAG family, my brothers and sisters from George Fox, my Foster Friends, Villa Road House ladies and those special ones I cherish, you know who you are. I'm 2,000 miles away, but I carry you in my heart!

Uninspired

It's been a few weeks, but I'm still here, and things are much as they've been since I moved over a month ago now. It's hotter. I'm still splitting rent at least in regards to my kitchen with my cockroach friends who have become reclusive but generous in their indications of their presence. Just in case you haven't had to "Google" it yet, cockroach poop DOES look like mini mouse droppings, but apparently it's rare to have both an ant and a cockroach problem, so my apartment must be a magical place of pestulent richness, a perfect world where ant and cochroach co-exist in mutual infestation.

The Itallian still greets me with a kiss on the cheek, but it's not as thrilling as it was the first time.

Did I already mention it's hotter? Today it was 107 F. I've decided that the "F" now stands for "freaking ridiculously hot!!!" (sorry mom).

You've all heard the expression, "kick the bucket." I've not had a confrontation with death, per se, but I did kick a frog this week. It really hurt. I immediately pronounced it to be the grotesque horned frog, of which I've heard local lore, but one of my Texas friends has convinced me it was just a Texas sized frog. Tell that to my toe, it's still sore. Please tell me you're enjoying the visual image of me tripping over a frog during an evening jog? I know I didn't set up the story well, but you have to appreciate it nonetheless.

Work has picked up into full swing. This last week was a bear. It started off in Paradise, literally in Paradise, TX on a work retreat, and ended the week with a long day of COD. Once or twice a week, I'm assigned to be Counselor on Duty, or COD for short. I have a love/hate relationship with COD. It's a dream to finally be working with students again, but such a burden to remind myself that it's going to be months before I feel truly competent in my UTA/Texas Ed. knowledge---I'm not a very gracious green horn. Nevertheless, I at least feel like a half-way contributing member of the office now.

We've also divided up assignments for the fall fair circuit, which I'll hearforth refer to as TACRAO, or The Neverending Recruiting Season (nevermind the lack of congruence between the acronym). I get to go to San Antonio and discover the Alamo in late October, venture to Corpus Christi for a conference in early November and then tread new ground in the yet undiscovered state of Louisianna when I go to New Orleans in February.

To wrap things up in this informative if yet thus far, unentertaining post, I enjoyed the Beth Moore Live Simulcast this weekend at the church I've been attending. I found it delightfully curious that Beth (the speaker) mentioned, out of the 715 locations on satellite feed, Wenachee Washington, the home town of one of my besties and Albany Oregon, home to Albany First Assembly, which will always in my mind be the "rival" church of my own beloved KCAG, a fact which I should probably seek counseling over, as there really is no room for a spirit of competition in the body of Christ.

Well, that's all she wrote. I love and miss you all and plan for my next blog to be written with much less neglect than a much more thorough attention to prose and motiff. I plan to share the top ten things I appreciate most about my new home and the top ONE million I miss most about the home that will always be home in my heart.

On a lighter note, I passed an establishment near the church I'm attending that advertised "Drive through beer."

God bless Texas.