Going to Texas after Cali is like going from 800 thread count sheets to burlap…

Just got back from San Antonio, Texas on Sunday. My cousin Michael who I blogged about back in December graduated from Air Force Basic Training and as a gift my aunt bought me a ticket to fly out and watch the ceremonies. It was a total surprise to Michael. He had actually called me the day I was flying out to give me flack about not being able to make it. Little did he know… I walked out on the field with my aunt, uncle, and other cousin Lee to meet him after their parade ceremony, hiding behind my aunt all the way and when I stepped out he had to do a double take and we both teared up. It was a great trip. Lots of good food and time spent with a side of my family that I’ve gotten really close with in the past 4 years or so. Michael left for tech school Sunday night, where he’ll be stationed at a Navy base just outside of Hollywood for the next four months. Hopefully I’ll get out there to see him before he gets done.



On the way out there I had a connecting flight in Atlanta with only 40 minutes to get to my terminal, and the plane from Birmingham stayed on the runway so long that I missed my flight. After rescheduling, I had an hour and a half to kill and I hate flying so I went and immediately found a bar. A few minutes after settling in, 3 young men in army fatigues came and sat down at the table next to me and starting chattering about something. After a second, I realized they were all drinking coke… well I just couldn’t help myself and I leaned over and asked them how old they all were: 19, 20, and 20. They said they’d already been to Baghdad twice and would probably be re-stationed out there soon. I was just incredulous… these guys were old enough to go to war and die for this country but they couldn’t order a beer. Ridiculous.

The day after I flew out for Texas, Clint left for tour. I think he’s in Kentucky today, and will be headed to Illinois and Michigan at some point before coming home March 7th. It’s the longest he’s ever been gone, and before he left he’d expressed some anxiety about me being at the house by myself, so my parents have loaned me their 170 lb great dane, Zeus whom Clint has lovingly dubbed “Chernobyl Dog”. For the past two nights I’ve slept with a hulking 240lbs of canine in the bed with me, and you better believe I stayed in the same damn spot the whole night. They sure do keep it warm though.

This week: hair, hair, and more hair. If anyone wants to have dinner or just come over to keep me company, holla at me lizrwells@gmail.com. You guys should know by now I don’t answer my phone.