Snippets of an ordinary life in an extraordinary world
Apparently, I’m a Ravenclaw! So says the quiz:
Some might see you as a bit haughty, but that’s just because they lack the intellectual capacity to be worthy of your presence. You see little difference between enlightenment and entertainment; learning experiences are tremendously enjoyable for you. And remember, kids: just because you’re brilliant doesn’t mean you’re studious!
Just had to share a double-take moment:
Chinese… Fast Food… Donuts?
After living in Texas for over 5 years, my husband finally agreed on a weekend trip to New Braunfels. We didn’t go to see a pretty landscape (which it is) or to indulge in some outlet shopping (which we did). I wanted to go to visit the Sophienburg Museum, a German-Texan heritage and immigration collection, where I figured I could find some good genealogy data. Unfortunately, the archives building was closed because we visited on the weekend. Not that the museum web site notes that particular detail, but oh well! I was still able to discover that my great-great-great-great-grandfather, Johann Matthias Kreitz, is considered a founding father of New Braunfels. Kinda cool! Someday I’ll get around to reposting my genealogy research on this web site.
On Saturday, we decided to visit the Natural Bridge Caverns and Wildlife Ranch. Now, I’m a desert rat who has enjoyed several trips to Carlsbad Caverns, so I was skeptical about this site. For one thing, it costs a lot more than Carlsbad, which is a bigger attraction. Carlsbad is a National Park, which probably keeps the prices down. Natural Bridge Caverns is privately owned.
We opted for the North Cavern Tour, which took about an hour and a half. It was a good tour. Be warned, when you walk in, it’s a bit like a sauna, especially if it’s cool outside. The ambient temperature is about 70 degrees, but add about 99% humidity to that, and you’re gonna be sweating in about 30 seconds flat! Tour guides are usually a hit-or-miss proposition, but we had a decent fellow. A little cheeky, but he knew a lot about the caverns and related geology.
The Natural Bridge Wildlife Ranch was our next stop. I was looking forward to it, as I had never been to a safari-style park where animals roam freely and you can feed them from your car. As we drove in, the gate attendant advised us to remove our antenna ball as it’s a prime target. I wouldn’t mind losing my antenna ball as it’s faded into an unrecognizable blob. I just didn’t want to be responsible for a sick ostrich!
As we gathered our bags of feed, Nathan warned me, “Watch out for the ostriches. They’ll stick their heads all the way in the car and grab things.” Suitably warned, I drove into the park while Nathan took pictures.
As the first sight of an ostrich, I started panicking. As soon as an ostrich headed toward my side of the car, I’d roll up the windows. All I could see was that beak flying towards my face! Of course, Nathan had great fun teasing me about my new-found phobia of ostriches. Little did he know that the universe was planning my revenge…
We continued through the park and came upon a herd of zebras. These zebras certainly are trained by now–they know a new car means new snacks. It was like being in the vortex of a dozen circling sharks! As I’m sitting there happily chunking feed pellets out the window, watching as the zebras snatched them up as soon as they hit the ground, I hear a panicked yelp from Nathan.
I turn around and there’s a zebra head where Nathan should be. I had visions of the zebra plucking our nice new digital SLR camera out of the car. I yell, “The camera! The camera! Give me the camera!”
By now, the zebra has shoved his head all the way in the car and is resting his head on Nathan’s lap. As the zebra rolls back his lips and starts chomping his teeth, I realize he’s going for the feed bag that’s sitting between the two front seats. But Nathan fears something else. He’s pushing back in the seat yelling, “My nuts! My nuts! Get him out of here!!”
The zebra finally finds what he’s looking for–he grabs the feed bag and starts his retreat. I grab the bag back and toss some feed out the moonroof and away from the car. Nathan, still winded from his near death experience, rolls up his window and mutters, “Well, let’s get going.”
That night when my sister asked how our day was, I say, “Oh just fine, but Nathan was molested by a zebra.” 
Today I visited my Great Granny’s grave.
Great Granny lived in Victoria, Texas. When I was 8, we moved to New Mexico, so I didn’t see much of her as I was growing up. I have many memories of her from my childhood, but virtually none from my adolescent years. My only memories from those years are of exchanging letters, and in my youthful short-sightedness, I kept none of them.
Great Granny was the first person to tell me little things about my dad’s biological mother. From Great Granny, I learned Evelyn’s middle name and found out that she died exactly eleven days after my dad’s birth. She didn’t say much about Evelyn, and now I wish I had asked more. I know Great Granny would’ve told me more about her daughter who died at the young age of 21. Great Granny would’ve wanted me to know about my roots.
I remember as a young girl spending hours in her living room walking ’round and ’round on her floor, tracing the pattern in the woven rug. Don’t know why it fascinated me so much, but in my 6-year-old mind, it was great fun! When I visited for the day as a teenager, I remember walking into her kitchen and feeling immediately at home. It SMELLED like Great Granny, and what a welcoming scent it was.
I visited again as a teenager. My sister and I were staying with my grandfather for a few days, so we all drove into Victoria to visit her. When asked where she’d like to meet for a family dinner, it was Grandy’s. To this day, I chuckle. Grandy’s was her standard Sunday lunch location, and since we were visiting on Sunday for lunch, it was the obvious choice!
As a young adult, I stopped by with my sister on a road trip through Texas. Great Granny was still there. I couldn’t wait to walk into the kitchen to be greeted by the sights and smells of my childhood. Sure enough, as I walked in the door, I was immediately enveloped in all of those memories. There on the counter was a pitcher of sweetened iced tea and a plate of oatmeal creme pies–because no one visits Great Granny and leaves without eating! A tradition that continues today in the Fuhrman family!
Today I visited Victoria for the funeral of my Aunt Juanita (Great Granny’s daughter-in-law). Although we were there for Juanita, I wanted to take this chance to visit the other Fuhrman plots. Since I first learned about Evelyn when I was 13, I wanted to visit her gravesite and pay my respects.
So after Juanita’s funeral service, my mom and husband stayed with me so I could lay flowers at the gravesites. As I looked around at the visible markers, I saw that Evelyn was the first Fuhrman buried here. What does a mother go through, purchasing cemetery plots for her family and having to bury her 21-year-old daughter first? It was emotional for me, seeing Evelyn’s gravestone. I’ve always felt a connection or pull to her. Her sudden death so soon after my dad’s birth always seemed like such a terrible way for the universe to cheat my family, my father, of her presence.
Having placed the flowers on Evelyn’s grave, I stepped behind the funeral service tent. In that moment when I saw the stone with “Selma Fuhrman” on it, I was overcome with emotion. When she died in 1998, a mere 5 months after I last visited her, I don’t recall crying very much. I cried with my dad when we got the call, but aside from that, I don’t remember truly grieving, or remembering. As I stepped behind the tent, all of the memories I’ve recounted here (and more) came rushing back and the floodgates opened.
Today I finally grieved for Great Granny’s death. But I’m glad I did, because in doing so, I rediscovered many wonderful memories of her.
Today I said goodbye to my Great Granny.
It’s February in Houston… that means cold, wet, dreary weather. Yes, that actually happens here! It also means we get a couple of absolutely gorgeous days in between the drab. Yes, that too happens here. For the first day in almost two weeks, the forecasters called for mostly sunny skies and a 0% chance of precipitation. The high was supposed to be in the high 70’s.
A little over a year ago, my group’s administrative assistant flexed her muscles and found me a window office. I love my windows, but sometimes I feel like I can’t enjoy them. My computer monitor faces away from the windows, or I’d sit and stare out the window most of the day. I enjoy daydreaming as much as the next person, but I suspect my employer doesn’t.
Anyway, I could tell by lunchtime that today was a day not meant for meaningless chatter on conference calls and hurried work in front of a computer screen (facing away from the window, no less). This is a day to be outside. As Houstonians know, we only get a few genuinely pleasant days during the year!
As the clock crept past 3 pm, I kept glancing behind me at the sunny skies and green trees. That’s one thing I love about Houston… green trees, even in the winter. Finally, at 4:30 I decided I couldn’t take it any longer. The day was calling to me.
I call this a moonroof day. One of those days when you say, “to hell with the hairdo!” and open the moonroof and all of the windows. Well, except for the driver’s side, which is only opened part of the way. I can’t let go of my hairdo THAT much.
As I pull out of the dark parking garage, it’s as if the day is finally welcoming me. For the first time today, I feel no pressure, no hurry. On the drive home, I take the long way around. And because U2 is making the drive that much more pleasant, I decide to take a turn -off, just to see where it goes. We’ve lived here over a year, and I still haven’t driven around the backroads of town much.
I end up hitting several deadends, but that’s okay. No worries. The back way home helped me avoid the rush-hour idiots on Highway 249. The houses are lovely, the lawns are lush and green, and the horses are contentedly grazing behind the quaint white and brown wooden fences.
Back here I can drive just fast enough that air is rushing through my hair and swirling around my body in the cab of the car, but not so fast it’s too loud or windy.
U2 tells me it’s a beautiful day. Happily, I agree and join in the chorus.
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