Ain't nothing but a country girl

Every once in a while, I fancy myself as a big city girl. That is, until I go into the city. Those are the moments when I'm singing Thank God I'm a Country Boy to myself.

I'm not made for the high rises or the traffic. I went to Houston a few weeks ago and went to a commercial real estate media luncheon (yes, I know, rub down the goosebumps) in downtown Houston. I was instructed to park in a garage and follow the tunnel to the bank tower where the luncheon was. I'm thinking, no problem. In Dallas or Fort Worth, the tunnel usually connects directly to the tower from the garage. Not so in Houston. It has its own city down there. I got lost not once, but twice. Both times, I wound up having to go street level, where I walked down the streets crying and vowing to myself that I will never go into the city again. El Capitan had text messaged me about the possibility of me popping in to say hi and I thought, briefly, about texting him to come find me and help me find my car. It was pretty pathetic.

I felt similiarly the week before when I took my mom to the Dallas Public Library in downtown. I hate driving in Dallas. Fort Worth just doesn't seem that bad to me.

Regardless, this week, I've been driving Hot Rod to soccer camp each day in McKinney and what little country has not been devoured and developed with tract homes (not that I'm bitter or anything) has been refreshing. His soccer fields are surrounded on all three sides by country. One side is a big hay field, one side has horses, the other side has llamas (be careful, they spit) and across the street is cattle. Occasionally, the breeze doesn't bring pleasant smells, but it is comforting in a smelly sort of way.

Hi, I'm AoM and I'm a hillbilly.