Texas

Okay, so my stay in Texas has been as follows:

1. Having close family friend talk about my impending marriage to someone far into the future. Every sentence began as follows:

"So if/when you do get married..."

As I'm getting closer and closer to 30, I'm realizing that my "Marriage Plan" - the one where I get married before I turned 29 so I could be a young wife and a young bride - has failed. I'm starting to come to terms with the fact that I will probably get married when I'm 45 and too old to bear children. AWESOME. I mean, I have enough on my plate right now between work, friends, and more work to keep my thoughts of marriage far at bay.

However, this does not mean that I don't secretly plan my destination wedding and select my bridesmaids when bored. No seriously. Apparently my wedding party consists of me and my bridesmaids. Groom? I have no idea. Sometimes his face is just a fuzzy blob like the ones they use on television shows when trying to hide someone's identity. I don't know. All I know is that in my daydreams? I'm the star. My dress? Beautiful. My bridesmaids? Beautiful. The day? Beautiful. That's as far as my mind lets me wander.


2. Having close family friend tell me that I'm going to have a girl *WHEN/IF* I ever get married...which leads me to ask myself WHY I need to be married in order to have a child. I mean, if I save up enough money, I'm sure I could just buy one from Africa since that's like the popular thing to do. Or maybe I could get a Chinese baby. OOOH! Escadaloso! I could be a black woman with a Chinese baby. Let me totally turn the adoption process upside down! Hells to the muthafuckin' yeah.

My black ass? Rolling on the floor laughing. Hard. Even as I type this. Rolling. Laughter. Hysterics. Tears.

3. Watching Mum-Z stack salt, pepper, and ketchup packets by size order.

4. Watching Mum-Z re-stack the ketchup packets and watching them slide out of place.

5. Watching Mum-Z stack the salt and pepper packets together, then decide that she doesn't like her arrangement, so the packets ultimately became separated by content. Salt with the salt; pepper with the pepper.

6. Watching Mum-Z reorganize the salt and pepper packets in horizontal and vertical stacks.

7. Slowly going crazy while watching Mum-Z organize and reorganize condiments. Feeling anxiety levels rising, and in desperate need of medication and/or Bikram yoga. As I am nowhere near a yoga studio, medication is definitely in order...as soon as I unpack it from my bag.