Texas: Hitting the High Points, Take One

OK, so, Barbara, I apologize in advance for the spottily written and photo-dependent nature of this post. I been all out and about and whatnot, and, so, yeah. Anyhoo, I thought I'd better get back in blog business before i got spooked, or something.

MY TRIP TO TEXAS, FROM WHENCE I CAME

So here's what I stared at for a while on the way there. I hate flying so much.


Here is Arkansas, which is on the way.


Here is the bedroom I sleep in at my folks' house.



Here is Wilfrid, my wise old nephew. The boy stares right into your soul, don't he?


Here is a bocce ball court at my folks' house. I don't know why, exactly, but it cracks me up that they put in a bocce ball court. My dad hauled roughly fifty wheelbarrowloads of sand.


Here is my sister Annie sitting in it. This is mostly what it's used for. I mean, how much bocce ball can one play?


END PART ONE

More verbal shit to come--I'm mostly performing it onstage, though.