Some time ago, my husband wrote an article about the two-person, at home, chili cook-offs that we had between us. He named me the victor of both cook-offs. Although that was quite generous of him to do so (and it was a little flattering) it didn’t feel like a victory. It wasn’t because my chances of winning were 50-50, or because I cook often and can taste individual flavors, or even that I have an appreciation for cooking and eating.
I was asked, pestered, frequently reminded [insert word of choice here] by my husband to write for his section on rants on this website. He says that it would be a good release for me to put it all on paper. Therapeutic release I suppose. Either that or he can only take so much about the rising costs of weddings, the ridiculous nature of the new “photographers” of our time or how people exist in their own worlds while existing in an even bigger world. All he says is “You need to write about it.” So here I am writing about it. I have a long list of things that need to be turned into an article but I’ll make my debut with this article about Laredo. The town I grew up in, and for the most part grew up hating and waiting for the days till I was able to leave for college.
So, I was at work today and I was talking to one of my coworkers about some interoffice drama bullshit. I might get into that later when the mood strikes me. Any ways I was talking to my coworker and for some reason the raccoon in me was attracted to a shiny rock on her hand. I am usually really good about keeping eye contact and not looking away and blah blah blah but this rock was HUGE! I find that I often do that when I visit my grandparents-in-law. She too has this enormous ring. It is like that special diamond that comes out on that movie Congo with the crazy ancient killer apes. Well the diamond is supposed to be able to set of this crazy laser gun. Both rings are so big, and despite having already seen it, I cannot look away. I want to ‘cause I don’t want to make them uncomfortable, but wearing something of that size is like painting a big red dot on the center of the Mona Lisa. There is no way that you will not be able to not look at that red dot.
I recently ran in to an old “friend” from college. BUT Before I continue let me say how weird that feels to say that. It sounds like such a cliché. As if I was that old, but still. Any way, so I run into this “friend” from college that used to take some of the same creative writing classes I took. I think we were both drawn to them because of Dr. Jackson. He was this incredible professor that really allowed you to write. He was the very definition of freedom of expression. Encouraged you to just write whatever the hell came to your mind. There was never a wrong way to write as long as you were expressing yourself.