It's a hot and happenin' weekend here. The hot is literal. Our upstairs air conditioner is on strike, so we've slept the last two nights on a futon mattress in the sunroom. The second repairman is coming this morning. When I expressed surprise that we could get someone on a Sunday, GLS's reply was that in Texas there was no higher calling. It's already a triple-digit summer here.
On Friday, we spoke to a TSU graduate seminar class of writing teachers in Round Rock. It was a friendly, enthusiastic group. We mostly told the stories behind our stories and made a few observations about the industry as a whole. Then we enjoyed a potluck lunch, which consisted of dishes like fried chicken, tuna salad, and hamburger-and-cheese filled biscuits.
On Saturday morning, we drove out to Lockhart for the Chisholm Trial Roundup. We have friends who own a grand old home on the parade route, so we sat out front in a row of folks with lawn chairs and soaked in the small-town charm. Watermelon and strawberry queens, church groups, monster trucks, bands, cheerleaders, girl scouts, cowboys on horseback. It was a boisterous event with a supportive crowd. It struck me, as someone travels a lot, that the participants and audience were about 1/3 black, 1/3 Mexican American, and 1/3 white. Music and dress styles reflected this diversity at times, didn't at others. Unlike many American history celebrations, there was nothing that made my inner Indian cringe. In any case, it's easy to imagine living in a small town with such a strong sense of energy and pride, but I'm afraid I'm a city girl. I like having my grocery store and hospital close by.
