When that sun is high in that Texas sky

What feels like forever but was really two weekends ago, we packed up The Monsters and drove south to San Antonio for Fiesta. “Fiesta?” you say? “As in a party?” Not quite. “As in an entire month of pageants and fundraisers culminating in a week of parades and parties and festivals? When parking restrictions and open container laws mean absolutely nothing? When asking to see a pretty girl’s shoes isn’t creepy?” Yup.

There is a historical side to Fiesta, however. It all began in 1890 as a singular parade put on by the Daughters of the Republic of Texas to honor the heroes of the battles of the Alamo and San Jacinto. Fiesta now stretches over 11 days with over 100 events, has a huge economic impact on the city of San Antonio and raises money for many charities and causes in and around the city as well. The Battle of Flowers Parade (where I took the above photo of The Joey) is second in size only to the Tournament of Roses Parade, and continues to be the only parade in the country organized and produced by women. Plus, it’s just awesome! 

When we (finally) made it to San Antonio there was just enough time to sleep until early the next morning, when we got up early to go to The Battle of Flowers Parade.

If you think I should look a little happier to be at the most awesome place in April, you’re right. I was miserable. As it turns out I am allergic to absolutely everything outdoors, most especially oak and pecan pollens, and grass. So springtime in San Antonio when it’s dry and windy and everything is coated in pollen and grass seed is not my friend. I took Benadryl and kept falling asleep behind my sunglasses sitting and waiting for the parade to start. Which is funny now because I’ve since learned that The Husband and my cousin Bucky kept talking to me only to find out I was asleep behind my sunglasses. Ha!

When was the last time you saw McGruff the dog?! I got a little excited, all those flashbacks to D.A.R.E. and all.

 

 

 

 

This is the army band. And what was so awesome was that they are playing tejano music! I will make a confession here: I still have no idea what they’re saying or anything, but something about San Antonio makes me love tejano music.

 

 

 

 

 

This is pretty much what San Antonio is like during Fiesta. Beautiful, tradtional and draped in flowers.

 

 

 

 

 

I’m still trying to figure out why only Miss San Antonio was driven in a low-rider.

 

 

This is one of the more traditional floats I saw in the parade. I wish the photo could translate the fresh, earthy sweet smell of the flowers as they passed by. It was just beautiful.

 

 

 

 

 

So then we got out the cascarones. Confetti eggs. And if you’ve never had the joy of cracking a dyed eggshell filled with paper confetti on the skull of your beloved cousins (shout out, R’s!), you’ve obviously never lived. The downside is that when you have insanely thick curly hair and you get that confetti in there because your aforementioned beloved cousins not only crack the shell on your skull but then rub it in you have to brush out your hair, immediately resulting in a Mexi-fro.

I didn’t take a picture of that.

Did I forget to mention that I had my wisdom tooth out the day before we left for San Antonio? I was so worried that I wouldn’t be able to eat all the yummies awaiting me down south, but it all worked out.

Except for the cerveza-ritas.

My cousins Bucky and Rae kept telling me and The Husband about some wonderful drink called a cerveza-rita. So since our grandmother was out of town* and we were staying there with The Monsters and Izzy the Wonder Dog alone, The Cousins brought over some liquor and beer and made Trey a cerveza-rita. Since I could neither drink through a straw nor ingest alcohol due to the wisdom tooth healing process, I just took the pictures of the cerveza-rita. I hope to have one soon. Very very soon. It wasn’t fair, and I may have pouted.

 

And that was just the end of day one.

 

*Who am I kidding? My grandmother would have probably pulled up a schooner with the rest of them. She’s kinda cool like that.

Please belive me I'll never do you no harm

As if getting started on The Robot Room, planning the rearranging furniture throughout the house, thinking about having a garage sale, sewing a baby blanket and growing a baby were not enough... I got out some directions I printed ages ago about how to recover a couch. I don't know if this is nesting or just me going off the deep end but I feel the need to bury myself in so much craft crap I won't ever be able to finish. If only I could get paid to do this stuff....

Note that "planning" and "thinking" aren't actually things I'm acting on, but sometimes I feel like our household's personal think tank - I don't even bring things up to The Husband until I've gone through all the logistics and contingencies. Then he comes in to do the heavy lifting. I tell him he's the muscle of our little operation, and he tells me I'm the brains.

At least I know that I will never be bored during our forever together. Last night I made mention of the doctor's appointment I have this afternoon. I told him a month a go and several times since it's come up in casual conversation that we will be hearing the baby's heartbeat today and I wanted him and the Joey to come to the appointment with me so we could all hear it together. Well as we were brushing our teeth before bed last night The Husband makes some side comment about staying home with the Joey while I go to the doctor and I just about lose my glue, going on about how I've already told him about this important appointment and if he isn't going to be involved with the things going on in this pregnancy I don't want him to come and I'll bring the Joey by myself and he can just stay at work for all I care. So he gets me calmed down a little by admitting he can't help stupid and he should have remembered what was going on. So then he says, "I know what's going on" and I say "Oh really? What's going on?" thinking he was going to say something like "I forgot what you said a month ago and I'm really sorry." No - he says "I'm getting in trouble!" and I guess my face must have shot up into flames like you see in cartoons because his eyes got really big and he stammered "Word vomit! That's not what I meant to say! I couldn't stop myself!" And I burst out laughing. The combination of his face and the fact that I really believe him when he says he can't stop himself sometimes just equals that I can't ever stay mad at him. What can I say? I love that man....

I can't decide what to do this July 4th weekend. I'd like to go out and see some fireworks or something but I don't think that's going to be possible without boiling the baby. I also thought about us making the trip up North to the lake and the boat but I remembered the last time we were up there a few weeks ago and I was just plain miserable. The boat wouldn't stop moving! And yes, I do know that's kind of what they do but if you were in my position that day you wouldn't care either.

During a conversation with The Doctor last weekend I revealed a secret wish of mine. I want to be sent away for a long weekend to somewhere with spa packages. I walk in and they have a room ready for me. The specific spa package has already been chosen for me and the only decisions I have to make for the entire weekend is what I'm going to order off the room service menu - everything is already paid for. I can walk into my room and turn off my cell phone, there is no computer and I can turn off the ringer on the landline in the room. There's a huge soaking tub in front of a picture window with a view of a valley or mountains or the beach - anything so I can get lost in a bathtub my whole body can fit into. No one bothers me and I can sleep as late as I want, get hot stone massages and watch movies alone. Nice dream, huh?

I like to replay this little fantasy of mine on the rare occasion I get to take a bubble bath here at home. The last time was last week - can't remember the time before. But my bathtub is too small (my upper arms don't even get damp in our standard-sized bathtub/shower combo) and WWIII was going on downstairs, something about The Joey not cleaning up his toys and The Husband got angry because The Joey never does anything he says but everything I say. Peaceful relaxing bubble bath, right? So the dream was shot and I gave up and played Switzerland until The Joey started crying because he got scared at The Husband's "angry voices" and then I was all U.S. on The Husband (like that metaphor?) until he relented and The United Nations was formed.

Wait a second... either I took that metaphor too far or I just really confused myself. No matter - cardio!