Floating the River!

I just got back from an amazing weekend partaking in a very ‘Texas’ activity: floating the river! This essentially means getting in a tyre, on the river, and floating downstream for 8 hours, while drinking and soaking up the sun. Hard life, right?

It was such a fun weekend. The river Guadalupe - which, in typical American fashion, is pronounced 'Guadaloop', rather than the actual Spanish pronunciation 'Guadaloopay' - is apparently descended on every summer to be used as a public urinal while thousands of people laze their way along, sipping Coors Light and  listening to Willie Nelson.... It. Was. Awesome!

Lazy days

We headed down on Friday morning, driving about 4.5 hours to New Braunfels, which is in South Texas. Our home for the weekend was a cute little cabin up in the trees, it was awesome!

Treehouse!

Inside the treehouse

Tony and Beverly immediately rewarded themselves with a beer upon arrival

 The first night we just settled in, had a BBQ and played some beer pong. I won two games out of three!

Tony looking special

VICTORY!!!

 We sat out on the balcony for a bit until this ENORMOUS STICK INSECT landed near me. I only noticed it because I actually heard it fall, the thud was so loud that I thought it was a branch! I nearly wet my pants, the thing was about 7 inches long!! Needless to say I made myself scarce shortly after.

Why did Noah let two of every insect on that ark of his?! Bastard

 On Saturday morning, we got up and headed for the river. We each got a tube, plus a ring for each cooler, and clambered down into the water. The air temperature was probably close to 40°C but the river was freezing so it was an odd sensation being half too hot and half too cold. We soon settled in though, making friends with other floatees, and trying not to think about the fact that all these people around us are peeing in the water we're currently sitting in. Lovely.


We had been warned before we started floating that the river was low at some points, and we might have to get out and walk over the rocks as it was too low to float over. However, I was not prepared for how much walking we were going to have to do. My flip flops were useless and slippy, so had to navigate the rocks in bare feet. The rocks were a delightful combination of slimy and jagged, so you slip and slide all over the place, only to be forced onto a particularly painful rock. A couple of times I fell over, and then somehow ended up stuck underneath a tube, with someone still sitting in it. I have grazes all up my shin, my knuckles look like they've knocked the living daylights out of someone, and one of my wrists looks like I tried to damage myself. Battle scars!


We heard some hilarious red-neckery on the river too. Two guys got in a fight over a girlfriend who had apparently gatecrashed their boys weekend. They were throwing punches and getting really lairy, which was unfortunate as my tube had decided to float over towards them at this point, and I was desperately trying to discreetly paddle away so they wouldn't round on me. One of their friends, 'Randy' (I kid you not) was also concerned about their behaviour. Not so much for their well-being, however: "You two can kill each other anywhere else, but not on the river. No-one is dying on this river." We met an old woman who had clearly drunk enough alcohol to strip paint off a wall, searching for a lighter. (I personally think this was unwise as she looked highly flammable at this point). Quite a few people very intelligently identified that, judging by my accent, I was not from Texas. Well spotted Sherlock.

I know I keep repeating myself but it was really was so much fun, injuries and near death experiences by Randy's angry friends aside. We were out there for about 8 hours, but I managed to avoid major sunburn, which for my pasty-self is a massive result. The five hour journey home was less than enjoyable, mainly because I hate long car journeys and wish someone would hurry up and invent the teleporter already - it's the 21st century people, we should have flying cars and holiday homes on the moon by now!!

Treehouse sweet treehouse

Childhood

I loved being a child, mainly because all kinds of crap can come out of your mouth and people think you are imaginative, rather than clinically insane. I’ve been feeling fairly reminiscent of my childhood recently, mainly for my creativity to turn any inanimate objects into endless entertainment. I was a very imaginative child; I loved make-believe games, writing stories, acting, pretty much anything which put me in the centre of attention while simultaneously letting my insanity run wild.

Looking back I absolutely crack myself up with some of the things I used to play with my friends. For example, most playtimes in Year 3 (so age 7 or 8?), Oriel and I used to play Magical Clock. It consisted of me holding a hula hoop up around my face, because I was a magical talking clock, and making Oriel plates of imaginary sausages. The game always resulted in the same one-liner from Ori: “that’s a lot of tomato ketchup Magical Clock”. And then we’d die laughing and play it again the next day. And the next.

Another thing that I only remembered recently was when our family went to visit our friends, the Foxes. They had this amazing stream that ran through their garden, and Lucy and I would basically go and play with the mud/clay in the riverbed and pretend we were making a whole world out of treacle. We were the Treacle People. I think it was based on a TV show at the time, but really, we made mud our plaything. Our imaginations knew no bounds.

Rachel Easter and I were always the craziest though. We’d always both had a ridiculous sense of humour, which half entertained and half scared our parents because, well, essentially we were insane. One day we decided that we needed powerful titles, and became self-designated Overlords of the Mutant Chickens and Cows. We’d write each other cards and letters and sign them ‘OOTMC’. I’m sure if we had been seen by a child psychologist we would have been diagnosed with something but luckily it never came to that.

One of my favourite games to play was schools. I was a bossy child (see my point below about arguing with friends at sleepovers – this was undoubtedly due to me telling people what to do) so playing schools seemed an obvious choice of game: being a teacher, the ultimate authority in a ten year old’s eyes. I used to write out maths sums and make my friends complete them ‘in the game’, then I’d take great pleasure in pointing out their mistakes when they handed it back. Given that the people I played schools with most frequently were Bryony (1 year younger), Flora (2 years younger) and Hugh (4 years younger), it was unsurprising that the times tables I knew were going to be near impossible for them to do. Especially as I was the only one allowed a calculator. Check mate.

Being imaginative was the main entertainment of my childhood. I rarely watched TV (apart from the Treacle People apparently), I wasn’t interested in Ben’s various game consoles – all I did was read books and live in a fantasy world. It was a fun place to be! I kept pretend wolf cubs under my bed as pets; they used to follow me to school and I’d have to tell them off and make them run home (I love how I just specified that these pet wolf cubs of mine were imaginary, in case anyone actually thought I might really have had wolves living in my bedroom). I do feel sorry for kids who have no imagination. And I hate it when children nowadays say they don’t like reading (says she, up on her high horse). Books can be fun! My children are going to read, and they will love it, goddammit.

I used to love writing stories. I still remember the creative writing part of my Year 6 SATs: I wrote a story about a girl called Abby Quire who sang in the Abbey choir. There was a policeman in the story called PC World. I was even the winner of a city-wide creative writing competition when I was 10 – we had to write a poem in honour of the millennium about something environmental. I wrote (and subsequently performed) a rap about recycling. Yes, I rapped in front of people. My prize was the have a giant poster made of my poem which was then displayed at the St Albans dump. I even drew the illustrations myself – a giant bottle bank wearing sunglasses and a backwards baseball cap. Word.

Some fun facts about me as a child:

·         My earliest memory is waking up on the bottom bunk in the first house I lived in and seeing a tarantula on my pillow. I was actually still dreaming, and when I really did wake up there was nothing there, plus it was probably not a tarantula because I would have been about two and it’s unlikely I had ever seen a tarantula in order to then imagine one on my pillow but still, I remember being terrified either way. I’m not sure if I am scared of spiders because of this dream, or if I dreamed it because I was already scared of spiders, but yeah, what a great first memory!

·         My second memory is not being allowed in the ball pond at IKEA. My first few years on this Earth were traumatic to say the least.

·         My celebrity boyfriend (you know, the guy who played your husband in all your games) was Stephen Gately. That’s right, I routinely chose to ‘marry’ the gay one from Boyzone.

·         I was a chubber. Seriously, I did not shift my so-called ‘puppy fat’ until I was about 16. I have actually been told by a couple of adults that knew me as a youngster that they were worried I wasn’t going to ‘blossom’, and they were relieved when I grew out of my ugly duckling phase. Unfortunately for me, this ugly duckling just grew up to become a duck. None of that ‘swan’ shit that was supposed to happen.

·         When I was 9, my older brother tricked me into watching the Sixth Sense, by telling me and my parents that it was a 12 and ‘not even a scary one’ at that. I am consequently still afraid that there is a dead girl who lives under my bed who wants to grab my ankle if I stand too close to her in the dark. No joke, ask Josh.

·         Every time I had a sleepover with anyone until about the age of 11, we ended up getting in an argument and would fall asleep in angry silence. I’m not saying it was always my fault but I do seem to be the common denominator in all of these scenarios…

Ahh youth, it really is wasted on the young! :)

Fourth of July!

Yesterday I experienced my first Independence Day and it was fun. A few Americans asked if I’d be celebrating, considering the history of July 4^th – essentially the anniversary of America breaking away, fairly violently, from British rule. As this was back in the late 1700s, I decided I wasn't going to let it get to me lol. I’m pretty sure most Brits are over it by now!

Independence Day is a public holiday, so we had the day off work. As it was a Wednesday, it was a nice little break in the middle of the week, and resulted in quite a lot of drinking – a tradition that luckily spans both cultures ;)

There was a big firework display on the night before our day off, so I headed to watch with some friends. I was pretty impressed, I absolutely love fireworks (big kid at heart) so was very excited. I have to say, the best fireworks I’ve seen are the ones in St Albans for Bonfire Night, but these were still a good show. 

We then went back to a friend’s house, where the conversation took an argumentative turn as we began to discuss religion and the rights and wrongs. Rather unfortunately for Melissa, she was the only person present who defended it. The debate grew rather heated on both sides, fuelled by red wine and vodka (not mixed) but always fun to get involved in!

On the actual day of Independence, we all gathered at Brooke and Ken’s house for the all-important feature in any backyard: a pool! We had a BBQ and swam all afternoon, in wonderful 38°C heat – I can’t get enough of the weather here! 

Ian, Jack, Brooke and Logan

Independence Day cookie pizza

Then we played beer pong. I hadn't played since I lived in Albuquerque, over two years ago, but apparently it’s just like riding a bike because I still had all the skills! There was a very competitive game of UK vs. US, with Ian and me playing against Brooke and Ken, and sadly we lost, (just). I suppose it was fitting, fairly reminiscent of our defeat in 1776, but like we pointed out, we let you win then, and we’ll let you win again now. 

We didn’t want the damn colonies anyway :)

Six month summary

Goodness gracious me. I have been living in Dallas for HALF A YEAR! That is pure madness, it seems to have flown, yet also feels like Christmas and my leaving drinks were so long ago… Time is a funny thing.

Here is a quick summary of my life since living in Texas y’all!

·         First and foremost, I have a tan. That’s right my doubtful readers, a goddamn SUNTAN! I love Dallas weather (discounting the fact that it rained on July 1^st which was not appreciated in the slightest). The suns shines a lot here, and the heat… oh man, it is fabulous! We had our first 100° day a few weeks ago (that’s 38° for the people who work in celsius) and it has continued in a similar fashion ever since. Most people who have lived here longer than six months hate this time of year, and bless the lord above for inventing air conditioning. When I first got here and reveled in the fact that I would actually experience a real summer, rather than the crap offering of drizzle that England provides, everyone scoffed and said, ‘just you wait’. They thought I would become one of them, who appreciate rain, a cool wind, and overcast days. Yeah right. I’m from ENGLAND, where sunshine means whipping out the shorts from the back of the wardrobe, regardless of whether it’s actually warm or not.

·         I like my job. I don’t know if this is unusual or not, but thought I should throw it out there in case I’m in a rare situation. And since it’s why I came over here in the first place, it deserves a mention. I’m a marketing manager, to anyone who didn’t know or actually cares, and to be honest, I was a little nervous before I started as I didn’t know much about either marketing or managing. But I’d like to think I do now! To my great relief the ‘manager’ part means I manage all the marketing work, rather than other marketers, which was my initial impression. I had been worried that I might be in charge of managing other human beings in their jobs which was nerve-wracking due to the aforementioned lack-of-knowledge-in-the-marketing-area. Incidentally, I like to think of myself as a ‘marketeer’ rather than a marketer as I think it sounds more fun.

·         I have an unhealthy relationship with food. This isn’t much of a revelation, as I’ve always been greedy. But still, it is no surprise to me why America is the fattest nation on earth – food is everywhere here. EVERYWHERE! Great big billboards on the side of the road, screaming YOU ARE HUNGRY! COME AND EAT AT OUR RESTAURANT. TRIPLE-SUPER SIZED-FRIED DELICIOUSNESS THAT YOU MUST HAVE NOW! Complete with huge yummy pictures that make you drool a bit. All restaurants give you free unlimited chips and salsa, or free bread. If you order a drink of coke, sprite, etc, you get free refills. And supersize isn’t just an option at restaurants, it’s a standard. All the fast food places advertise similar deals – 32 cents for a 32 oz. drink, which translates to 20p for just under a litre of liquid sugar. I don’t know why I keep going on about fizzy drinks because I barely touch them, but you get my gist. Food is a bargain here. Enormous portions of beautifully fried foods, and so so cheap. It’s dangerous. Seriously, I have very little willpower. I ballooned up when I first got here and thankfully have lost most of it again, but it worries me because I love to eat. And when free food is put in front of me, I don’t say no.

·         I think I’m in love. This one is probably the one that worries me the most, mainly because the man in question is 1 year old and already way out of my league. Ladies and gentlemen: Jack Dailey, heartbreaker.

Ready for the pool <3

I've run out of points for now, you’ll be glad to know. I miss London but I love that the sun shines all the time here. I miss everyone back home, but I've met a lot of fun people here. I miss not having to go to the gym to justify the huge meals I eat, but I know it’s good for me (stupid gym). 

It would be nice if my two homes weren't 4,751 miles apart though…