walking? like, on my feet?

Walking is something you don’t really do in Houston. Maybe if your car broke down. Or you’re trying to raise money for a charity. One time I saw a guy jogging down a major freeway. But for the most part, Houston is a city you experience by car.

Now that we’re living in a small town, we’ve found ourselves walking to pick up breakfast. Walking to the hardware store. Walking to dinner. Walking down to the water for the view. Walking just for the fuck of it. The weather finally cleared after a few days of rain, so we dealt with our stir-crazies by going for a walk before dinner tonight. (side note: the key to living in a small house is being able to count the outdoors as part of your living space–if the outdoors becomes off-limits, your small square footage begins to creep up on you) (all work and no play, etc.)

I’d heard a rumor there were a bunch of seals and their pups on a beach near where our street ends. We checked it out. Bingo.

can't you guys do something for us? like, balance a ball on your nose or something?

can’t you guys do something for us? balance a red ball on your nose or something?

In an effort to keep assholes off the beach, the city has staked up temporary fencing all around the area to keep the riff-raff out.

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I need my rest, too – wonder if this sign would work for me? ahh, but the dogs can’t read – nevermind

Some locals don’t care about the signs.

I go where I want

I go where I want

And some locals look like a chicken with its head cut off.

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it’s not just me, right? you see it?

And some of us just have to take a moment to take it all in.

pretty sure this guy busted me right as I took his picture

pretty sure this guy busted me right after I took his picture

The day may come when these sights don’t stir something in my heart. But until that moment arrives, I’m going to keep kid-in-a-candy-store-ing it and skipping down the road. And sharing pictures with you.

9 thoughts on “walking? like, on my feet?

  1. I would hope for you that you keep the newbie excitement of your new digs going for a long time. That is what makes a day so fresh.
    And yes, there are still many times when I walk out my door and catch my breath with the unique beauty of it all.
    Keep posting the pictures and good vibes, can’t hurt any in this sad old world we muddle through sometimes.
    Jim

    • Will do, Jim. I’m sure I’ll get back to all the other stuff soon enough. But for now, pretty pictures are where it’s at. And we’ve only scratched the surface out here. So many unexplored trails, uneaten meals and sunsets to come.

  2. It looks like it feels nice there. Sweat Season is starting on the Gulf Coast. Which means it feels about as nice at it looks here.

    • It tends to run in the 50 to 65 degree range most of the time. It’s a crisp 49 right now. I’m very excited about being able go to outside all summer without sweating and having to bat away mosquitoes and flying cockroaches. Makes the no frozen margaritas and no queso almost bearable.

  3. My Dear Lady, you are in California! If there is not a good Mexican place within walking distance of your new digs I would be Very Surprised! Queso is (usually) easy to get, and as for the frozen margarita *gasp* one does not simply Blend good tequila! *chuckle*

    • I haven’t been able to find queso in this town or surrounding areas, either by internet searching or in-person research. So if you’ve got a bead on Monterey Bay-adjacent melted cheese, I’m all ears. (Queso fundido does not count. Not even close.)

      And of course you’re right about not blending good tequila. Frozen margaritas are liquid comfort food when you live in a place that gets up around 100 degrees every day for months on end. We won’t have to suffer through that this year, so perhaps our margarita-ing will recalibrate.

      I’m serious about the queso thing. Maybe I should put a bounty out. Dead or alive.

  4. You will have a really hard time finding good queso. They make the mezican fooda like real mezicans out here, no tex-mex outside of the chains

  5. When in NorCal, do as the NorCalis (is that a word?) do. Frozen margaritas are out, wine from grapes grown in Marin County, Sonoma, Monterey, Napa (in that order) is real in.

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