Thinking out loud

My favorite thing about Texas in the Spring is the wildflowers that dot the roadways. It can look like a few specks of blue peeking out of the green grass (when there's been some rain during the winter) or full carpets of blue when you speed past them. But when you can stop and take a look, it becomes magical. First, you must know that bluebonnets have an amazing scent! I don't even know how to describe it except to say that it is fresh and a little green. I don't know why it's not used in perfumes and candles because it is really special! These white-tipped flowers are the state flower of Texas. They can grow outside the Lone Star State , but it seems like they don't like to leave home. When highways were being made, it was to accommodate the growing number of these things called motor vehicles. What Texas highway workers noticed was that wildflowers popped up. It took about 15 years before the highway department decided to highlight and preserve them along with na

  First, let me tell you this photo of the camel in the bluebonnets is not real. I made it. It's not completely far fetched . It is something I have not been able to stop thinking about for nearly 24 hours. It's the very TRUE story of camels being brought to Texas just before the Civil War. And I want you to know about the deep dive it made me take. If you have read any of my other posts, you know I am curious about things. I do not always start with the Google Machine. How the camels on the range came to me was in my ears. It's not the sound they make - though to be fair, when I think about camel noise it's the commercial one announcing it's Hump Day.  The sound I heard was the calm, soothing voice of Sharon McMahon. I'm a big fan. Huge. Call me Governerd. Her podcast, Here's Where It Gets Interesting , is one of the non-crime podcasts in my lineup. There has not been a time that I have not learned something, been encouraged to keep looking for more inform

Pre-COVID, I loved going to movie theaters. I was a "first show of the day so I could get things done" girl. That's usually because I would see something serious or scary or seriously scary and I needed to let my brain think about a few other things so that I wouldn't have weird or terrifying or weirdly terrifying dreams.  Since COVID, I have seen maybe two movies. One reason for the dramatic change: I don't want to sit that close to strangers and listen to them make any noises (chewing, slurping, questions about the movie or things off topic). The other: there just haven't been a whole lot of movies that I needed to see on the big screen. Something like Maverick is just meant to be in a theater with all the speakers and floor/seat rattling!  This year, I paid attention to all the award show buzz. I can totally get down with a big blockbuster, but I also really like the underdog - especially if there's a human interest story. While I was not watching the

This is a confession. I have been mislabeling myself for years. There are many things I have said that I am and that I am not.  One of them is that I do not have a science brain.  I finished reading a book this morning that made me say I MUST  to stop saying that about myself. Yes, this is fiction and not a textbook. The title definitely tells the reader what they're about to read. It really does include some actual lessons in chemistry. It gave me horror flashbacks to school when I had to learn the periodic table (very little of that stuck with me because I was memorizing and not actually learning). It is also about the chemistry we are around every day - and I'm not just talking about air or water (my less science-y words). It's about the chemistry that draws us and binds us to people, places and things.  You know, life. It made me wonder why have I always thought science is so hard to understand? Figuring it cannot just be me who put that label on myself, I hit the Googl

 Before there was Google, there was my Grandmother.  If I had a question, she would always have an answer. That answer could be that she did not know, but my curiosity would pique hers and we would find an answer. I learned so much from her that I am torn between being blessed to have spent nearly half of her life with her and robbed of the time Alzheimer's stole. This photo was taken a few years after her diagnosis. I had always hoped she did not know about this disease that was confusing her. She shared with me the awful secret: she knew what was happening to her. I learned about this when she was in the hospital with an infection on her leg. We were sitting in her hospital bed while my mom and aunt talked to the doctor. "I hope I don't give this to you," she said. "What? You're under the blanket. I'm fine," I reassured her. She grabbed my chin and turned my face toward her. "No, this," she said as she pointed at her head. It was my bigge