When I learned that fate had decided to spin me into the western United States and plop me down in the middle of the Mojave Desert, I knew my surroundings would differ significantly from any of the other places I had formerly lived. The southeast was lush and beautiful and it got plenty of rain as well as the most spectacular hurricanes in the world. Hurricanes get kicked up out of the Gulf of Mexico but by the time they get inland, all that's left are the torrential downpours, the mighty winds and the spawned tornadoes. As soon as I heard the weather sirens start sounding, I would hurry outside like I was one of those tornado chasers, desperate to catch a glimpse of a funnel cloud. I would stand there, dark clouds surrounding me, with my head back, arms out and eyes closed, reveling in the fierce wind blowing wildly in face. It felt invigorating. I know I was crazy but that's life in the deep south. The trouble with that area is that it is very hot and very humid, like all the time.
Even though I felt like my insides had been ripped out when I learned that we were moving 600 miles away, I welcomed the chance to get out of the moisture infused southeast and head north to a more temperate climate. The Virginias, in my opinion, have just about the most perfect weather in the United States. The summers aren't too hot and the winters aren't too cold. It gets just enough snow to be enjoyable but not cumbersome, and the city has the happiest spring time on the eastern seaboard with its Cherry Blossom Festival. My favorite time of year there, the autumn, was spent driving through the Shenandoah National Forest, which, with its deep red, orange and yellow hues, was the most breathtaking place in this vast land to witness nature in all its glory.
Although it took me some time to get used to living away from my family and living in a much colder climate than I was accustomed to, I grew to really love living in our nation's capital. So as expected, it was with a stubborn temper and a distressed heart that I agreed to move yet again, especially when I learned that my new city was going to be in the heart of the midwest. I believe my exact words when I heard the news were, "Well, I'm not going! You can go by your damn self." If you know me, then you will believe that I really said that. However, I'm still a sweet, southern belle (most of the time) so I whole-heartedly packed up my family and moved half way across the country to the most excruciatingly cold place I've ever been in my life. That first winter was brutal and I vividly remember crying for most of it. I had two very small children at the time who had to dress up like they were going snowboarding just to walk to school. We were too close to the school for school bus service and it would take too long to shovel out the driveway so I could get my car out, so we walked. I was told that students weren't allowed in the building until 8:45 am unless the temperature was below 15 degrees, but I think the principal used that number as a rough guide because there were plenty of mornings when we stood outside waiting in below 0 temps, feeling the water in our eyes and noses freeze. That winter was very difficult. I can't say that enough, but by my second winter, I had learned how to dress properly and I actually learned to enjoy the cold and snow, but it always pissed me off when I realized my car door was frozen shut while I was holding a three-year-old and ten bags of groceries in my arms.
I was surprisingly disappointed when I was told, yep, one more time, that we would be moving to Hong Kong, China. It was exciting, though, prospecting a foreign city and eventually building a new life there. The weather was similar to the elements in the southeast so it kind of felt like I was going back home, except I had to learn how to drive on the left side of the road and how to speak Cantonese. It was very hot and very humid and it rained, like all the time. Good stuff.
The Mojave Desert, of course, is the most recent area where we've parked. What can I say about the weather here? Well, there sure are a lot of drunk people here. You may be thinking to yourself, "I thought this blog was about weather. What the hell is she talking about now?" But there is no weather in the Mojave Desert. It's hot and dry every single day. It never rains and the weather pretty much never changes so weather here is a non-event. There's nothing to talk about when it comes to weather in here so I'm gonna talk about the drunk people that call this city home.
Take tonight for instance. I was sitting in a very nice restaurant, the kind of place you can take a family when, out of the corner of my eye, I began to notice a disturbance, a glitch in the matrix if you will. Something felt out of place. I should mention that this unusual occurrence was taking place at a restaurant that doesn't even serve alcohol! It was around 6 pm so you would think the freaks would still be at home sleeping one off from the night before but here I was, witnessing first hand the depravity that runs rabid in this city.
This guy kept getting out of his seat, wobbly waving at everyone as they walked by, and staggering from one place to the other while knocking things off the tables as he tried to regain his balance. To my absolute amusement, he incoherently started trying to talk to me but he was stuttering and slurring his words so badly that I couldn't understand a word he was saying. I really tried hard to understand him, too, because I figured whatever he was saying would make a hilarious story to retell later. There was music playing softly in the background so this guy started dancing, albeit, off pace to the music. It looked like he may have been trying to sing but that could have just been fallout from his earlier blatherings.
I found his behavior entertaining until he started climbing all over the seats behind me and trying to talk in my ear. He also started trying to take food right off my plate. The gall of some people!! The friend he was with called him over and as he was running back to her, he tripped, fell over and then lost his shoe! It didn't even look like he was embarrassed. He just laughed, got back up and started running again, but not to his friend. Nope! He ran over to the window blinds and started playing in those, ruining the meal of the diner's at the next table. When he got tired of playing in the blinds, he ran to the center of the restaurant, threw back his head and starting smiling at the ceiling. It was at this point that I went over and politely said to the woman he was with, "Can you please control your friend. He's acting like a child." To which she responded, "Um, he is a child." I said, "Oh, really? How old is he?" I smiled when she said, "He'll be two next month." That conversation was a complete joke and his mom knew it. That little boy brightened the faces of everyone in that restaurant.
The whole thing was really cute and it made me miss having a little one in the house. That delightful child oozed sweetness and when his mom told me his name was Jackson, it made the whole scene end with a perfect twist of "Kate." I couldn't help but start singing:
"We got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout.
We've been talking about Jackson, ever since the fire went out.
I'm going to Jackson, I'm gonna mess around.
I'm going to Jackson. Look out Jackson town."
Of course, then Jackson looked at me like I was drunk. : )
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