San Antonio – Of Bears and Boating

I learned this week (and last…and maybe even the week before that):

…that there is an old saying in Bohemia (Czechoslovakia):

“When a Czech owns a goat…his neighbor does not yearn for a goat of his own; he wants the neighbor’s goat to die.”

I’m currently reading former Secretary of State Madeleine Albright’s Prague Winter: A Story of Remembrance 1937-1948. In the first few chapters, she chronicles a good bit of Czech history, delves into Czech culture, and explores their predilection for a humanitarian driven lifestyle. It seems to me, though, their giving nature has its limitations – especially when it comes to coveted livestock.

…that I am grateful that 1) I no longer have small children; 2) that my daughter is a gentle, well-behaved soul; and 3) that I am blessed with a husband who usually understands stating the obvious is not always the correct course of action in a tense situation.

Strange sounding, I know. Let me explain.

We recently returned from a short spring break trip to San Antonio. It’s a fun city in the heart of Texas, with a good variety of attractions that can appeal to a whole range of interests – be it the arts, family fun, or just boozing it up down on the River Walk. Of course, no visit is complete without the obligatory trip to Sea World. Personally, I’m not the amusement park type. I would much rather spend my vacation time sipping on a frozen fruity cocktail on a warm sunny beach, or capturing the beauty of a botanical garden with my camera, or exploring a historical landmark and trying to figure out how to work it into my current WIP. Sadly, when it comes to family time, one must learn to embrace the art of compromise. So, off to Sea World we go. We were joined by thousands of our not so closest friends – some with big obnoxious kids, some with small obnoxious kids, some with no kids – just plain obnoxious personalities. As an eternal observer, and because amusement parks are all about standing in endless lines where I must endure the invasion of my personal space, I took the opportunity to learn from those around me. The most valuable lesson of the day:

Giving a three-year old a king-size bag of M&Ms at ten in the morning will result in a series of successive events;
- increased hyperactivity (child);
- stern reprimands (mom);
- whining (child);
- decrease in patience and energy level (mom);
- rapid crash, additional whining with pitch elevation (child);
- bribes of more candy capped by threats of harsh discipline (mom);
- meltdown of cataclysmic proportions complete with screaming, thrashing, and tears – tone now ear-splitting (child);
- demands for support from father figure who had wandered off to avoid the impending explosion (mom);
- Poorly timed parental criticism, “You shouldn’t have given him that candy.” (dad);
- hate filled glares followed by expletives then stony silence (mom);

Of course, silence isn’t always golden. As I stood in line, I could see the wheel in her mind turning as her eyes bored a hole through his skull. Scheming; plotting; planning. How could she do it? When should she do it? Could she get away with it? Did she have a plausible defense? How hard could life in prison really be?

…that the Catholic Church has a new leader. I don’t really like to talk about religion on the blog. It can be a polarizing subject that sometimes brings out the worst in people. I believe religion is a personal endeavor and should be spared societal judgment. Unfortunately, not everyone sees things my way. I was raised in the Church, though I haven’t practiced in many years. I don’t feel Church doctrine correlates with my worldview, and by and large, I lack the traditional spirituality that comes with unconditional faith. I’m more of a good Karma/bad Karma kind of person with a healthy dose of superstition thrown in for good measure. You know that whole “spit in the wind…” thing. However, I find the entire process of electing a new pope utterly fascinating. I love the ritual of it; the politics of it; the clandestine nature of it. It’s the stuff of novels – add a little murder and mayhem and you’ve got yourself a bestseller. Oh, wait. Daniel Silva and Dan Brown already did that.

Damn them.

…that historical geology is a science of many faces. This week it is masquerading as biology. My head is filled with biological classifications – kingdom, phylum, class, family, genus, specie. I’ve done this sort of thing before – in high school biology. I did alright, and I liked it well enough. But somehow classifying animals I knew and understood seemed so much easier. These fossils are a pain in my ass. They all look the same; their names all end in –ite or -pod. Half of them look like clams but are not related to the clam in any way. I find that suspect. Also, if it looks like sponge, acts like a sponge, then it is not a sponge. Seriously?

Dr. M: It is very easy to see the difference between this trilobite from the Cambrian and this one from the Ordovician. See the eyes; the shape of the back-end?

Me: No. No, I do not. I see a brown lumpy bit of rock.

Dr. M: Oh, you found the coprolite.

Ew.

…that my daughter does not appreciate unsolicited conversation with strangers anymore than I do. This weekend we went to see (hear) the Plano Symphony. While we were waiting for the performance to begin, the woman sitting next to my daughter began to engage her in a bit of small talk. Megan listened politely to the woman, answered her questions guardedly, and cast a few glares in my direction. At the end of the night, while waiting for our car, my daughter commented on her experience:

Megan: Mom, that lady made me feel socially awkward.

Me: Get used to it. Happens to me all the damn time.

Megan: Great.

***side note: If you live in the Dallas area, and have the opportunity to check out the Plano Symphony – do it. They are fabulous.

…that after reading five Daniel Silva (Gabriel Allon series) novels since the beginning of the year, I have come to the conclusion that I do not like Gabriel’s wife, Chiara. There are many things I admire about Silva’s writing – his penchant for strong memorable characters; his knack for brevity; his enviable grasp of show vs. tell. However, I am baffled by Chiara’s evolution from Gabriel’s leather clad, motorcycle riding guardian angel to nagging fishwife who has forgotten the complexity of her husband’s chosen profession – a profession she shares. I know it’s pretty drastic of me, but I keep hoping Silva will do the humane thing and kill her off. At least it would shut her up and Gabriel could go about the business of saving the world in peace.

…and last, but not least, this week’s awww moment is brought to you by this spotted leopard we stumbled upon at the San Antonio Zoo. I have posted a different shot of him, but I think this one is my favorite. He appears to be looking right at me. Such a beautiful animal.

…that the need for a vacation from the vacation is a sign that said vacation was a smashing success. I just wish the vacation recovery stage came with a pitcher of margaritas and a laundry fairy.

…that I much prefer the beginning of daylight savings time to the end. You might think that this is just another one of my many irrationalities, but my reasoning, for once, is actually quite sound. I have an internal clock. I’m sure you have one, too. I call mine the Beast. He’s a snarky little bastard who lacks the ability to adequately adapt to changes in time. While everyone else is hailing the extra hour of sleep they get in the fall, I am wide awake, staring at the bedside clock, cursing the Beast – and my husband who is happily snoring his way through dreamland oblivious to my plight. In the spring, when the clocks leap forward an hour, the Beast and I again find a sort of harmony. He lets me sleep until 4 a.m. and I stop trying to goad my phobia troll into pushing him down the stairs.

…that People Magazine, MSNBC, and Entertainment Weekly all tell me that the film remake/reboot – whatever – of the late 80s television show 21 Jumpstreet doesn’t suck. Bite me. What happened in the 80s should stay in the 80s. Hollywood needs to stop re-imagining the films and television shows that shaped my adolescence.

…that Sea World San Antonio will require all potential patrons to navigate three distinct lines before they are deemed worthy of entrance to the park. This sort of reminds me of the three challenges Indiana Jones faced in Petra during his quest for the Holy Grail.

…that there is nothing more relaxing than sitting on a bench, beneath a towering old live oak, and watching squirrels frolic through its branches.

…that the animals are coming out to play again. And by play I mean take over the world and relegate the surviving population to a small cornfield in Iowa – a fate worse than death, I assure you. In the last two weeks, there have been four shark attacks along Florida’s Atlantic coast. Luckily, all of the victims survived; however, when considering the close proximity of the attacks, one can’t help but wonder if this is part of a larger recon mission aimed at testing our east coast defenses.

…that sharks aren’t the only animals taking a bite out of the human race this week. In Orlando, a woman out walking her dog this morning, was bitten on the rump by a bear. Yes. Bitten on her butt. By a bear. Clearly, Florida is a hotbed of animal revolutionary activity. I am making a mental note to avoid the state for the foreseeable future. You can read more of her story [here].

…that you know its time for a complete scene rewrite when your writing group asks if your featured character is a transvestite (he is not) and then proceeds to giggle themselves senseless at a string of sexual innuendos you failed to notice during the writing process. I love my writing group. They are the best friend who tells you all those things you don’t really want to hear, but for your own good, must: “Yes, your ass looks fat in those skinny jeans.”

…last but not least, this week’s awww moment is brought to you by this little guy who was a great source of entertainment for me while I sat in a San Antonio park this past weekend, enjoying the beauty of life.