Those of you who know me personally know that I am about as girl as it gets. Almost everyone I know grew up camping with family on vacation or they grew to love camping as a young adult. Well, sorry, I think you're nuts. Trust me I know it's me. I get the nature thing. Nature is beautiful and wondrous, full of awe and things that can kill you. On the other hand a nice hotel is scary but less likely to give you that bacteria that makes your intestines swell to the size of a basketball. Not making this up. I know someone this happened to. We won't discuss what happened to someones testicles. Not my story to tell.
I love to walk through nature, hike a little, drive through nature, take a good, long, look-see at the magnificent vistas. They are not here in Texas so those of you who camp here.....you might want to see a doctor. It is hot and not that pretty in much of Texas. There is also humidity that would kill a southern belle. Houston is a steam vent from hell I am pretty sure.
We have a coast in Texas that I actually love. I don't get in the water as it stinks like dead things. But the hotels have real nice pools. I have seen both the Pacific and Atlantic coasts. I have seen both northern Cali and southern Cali. I have seen the Pacific in Alaska and Hawaii. Now THAT is some pretty water and dramatic coastlines. The Atlantic looked like water. To be fair I have only seen it from one spot. I have seen the Caribbean, gorgeous. South Padre is pretty. Malachite Beach, very nice. Still the water smells dead to me. Maybe it's oil?
In all these places when day is done and evening is nigh I want a room service menu and a hot bath. I can't imagine getting to camp, cooking dinner and crawling into a dirty sleeping bag after several days of stinking. This is why we have civilization. What used to pass for civilization. Civil is pretty much gone now.
When I drive or ride across any section of the nation I marvel at what the settlers faced. They didn't have roads or radios. No Cracker Barrels and not many Inns past a certain point of the trek. No Sonics to stop for a diet coke. They weren't even sure where water was. No flush toliets anywhere. I often wonder how I would have made it from the east coast to anywhere. The answer is of course I wouldn't have. I would have been killed or sold to the highest bidder or any bidder.
I would not have been a good companion on the Oregon Trail. Nope, I would have been the first one on the fire pit at Donner Pass. "Let's eat her first, she whines". I would not have been a good companion across The Hudson River. I've seen The Hudson. Big ass river. The Tappanzee Bridge is scary enough to drive across much less traverse the river. Yes, I would still be a Yankee.
Of course many people headed out from what was the edge of the nation. Many came here from Tennessee and Kentucky to avoid debt and legal issues. Why would anyone stop in Texas? After the first summer would you not move? I would. I would be on the first whatever out of here. I would head to "cool", wherever that might have been and lived there. My little cabin door would have a sign that read, "gone to find air".
Can you even imagine being a pioneer here on the prairie? A farm wife? I would be in prison day three or four after killing my husband for bringing me here. "Mama, go to the well and fetch the water for making the gruel today." "No". Bang...the end. I don't do well in heat. Can't see me in eighteen yards of skirt and stockings and bloomers outside fetching water more than once. No, once would have been enough to know that fetching wasn't my strong suit.
School teacher. Maybe. Probably not. I don't really think I could have kept all those clothes on. Seriously, what were women thinking? Not sure they would let you teach in your bloomers and a cammie. Pretty sure you can't even do that today. That only leaves prostitute or madam. I would have to be the madam as I don't like that many men. I like them but not THAT way. I would have doled out the customers to the ladies and chatted with Marshall Dylan at the bar. I would not have dressed up though. They would have referred to me as Madam Kimono.
My Native American name would have been, "Crying Ass Pain".
Southern Belles. My mama always fancied herself a belle. We let her as she had the pout thing down. I would have killed myself day one of the first summer of being a southern belle.
"Child, let's lace you in your corset before we put on the petticoats and the hoops and the skirts."
"Step away from me, I am the mad woman you can keep in the root cellar. I will never wear those clothes. Have you been outside?"
"That's why you carry a parasol".
"No, the parasol is to stab people with who try to get me to wear all these clothes."
Those women must have fainted every day. No wonder they had fainting couches. Hello?, take off some clothes! Don't lace your rib cage together. Insane. Thank heaven stilettos hadn't been crammed on women's feet yet. Those women would have fainted anchored in place by their heels. They would have fried to death in little rows.
Come October I will love Texas again. I will love it all the way through til the dog days of next summer. Those days start in May some years. Texas will be wonderful and beautiful and then one day everything will broil and I will hate this place. I start every summer reminding myself that I am not 20 or 30. I am not even 40 and now closer to 60 than 50. Short shorts, sleeveless or halter topped anything...let's just say the public should be spared. However, instead of giving in and wearing old lady clothes, slacks and sensible blouses that cover most of the flesh or long dresses and long skirts with a whatever I just don't leave the house.
It is so much better. It's too hot to eat. It's too hot to think. It's too hot to live much longer.
Please autumn, get here early this year. I promise I will go outside and marvel. I promise I will appreciate every single colored leaf. I will embrace that first cold north wind.
I will not, however, be camping. Unless I win an RV. A big one. With television and a nice bathroom. Or a cabin. A nice one. Maybe a pool on some acerage. In the mountains. With no bugs. And a chef. Nice music system or a live band.
Queen Wussy,
LBB
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