Kind of a cloudy day here along the river. Which is okay because it's also cooler…plus the light is good for photography, soft and shadowless.
My daughter and son-in-law are in Texas. The town of College Station, located northwest of Huston, and home to Texas A&M and legions of rabid Aggies. Apparently, the campus is right across the road from their hotel.
He's out there teaching a software program, used by auto dealers, which he helped design, to a bunch of company execs and sales reps.
My blue-eyed blond offspring is playing hooky from her psychology practice to loll by the pool for a week, go shopping, and sample the local cuisine. She informed me a few minutes ago she was thinking of buying herself a pair of hand-tooled Western boots. Rock & Roll Bling meets Cowgirl Fancy. Actually, the Rock & Roll is stretching it…more Suburban Chic. She listens mostly to Pop, tends toward relaxed elegance rather than loud glitter and flash, and the only thing she knows about longhorn cows is that they're sometimes served up medium-rare on a dinner plate and it's the name of a popular steakhouse chain—neither of which does she know firsthand, since she rarely eats red meat.
What can I say? As a caring parent, you do your best to give the young'ns a good, healthy dose of redneck corruption…but sometimes it just doesn't take.
Anyway, we are their acting dog-sitters—much to Moon's disgust. A tail-wagging thundering herd outdoors and in the hallway, providing one geriatric 60-pound terrier and two fluffy lapdog malti-poos (more like multi-poos) can be considered as such.
In a few minutes, I'll hit the freeways and set off for their townhouse on the opposite side of the city and county. There, my dual-objective mission will be to redo the thermostat's setting and give one of their three cats its Prozac.
Sheesh! I can't believe my life has reached the point where I'm going to help a cat get high….