One Bait Camp…I Found Out I Wasn’t a Redneck

Just so we all know, I’m highly aware that in the mainstream world, I’m pretty much a redneck. I like beer from the can, I say y’all way too much, and I live a sheltered life. I get it. But nothing could prepare me for bait camp. 

I headed out with my family to see a live band, at a bait camp, because B said it would be fun. But one night…at bait camp…I found out just how high class I am!
We pulled up in the middle of nowhere to this! I posted it on Facebook because I knew something was off about this sign and was backed up by my not so illiterate friends. Alligators can swim and they should not be told that they can’t. I did see an alligator or two floating on their backside so I was happy that they could read better than the locals and that they decided to play by their rules. But I’m still curious. Why is alligators in parenthesis?
And excuse me for being wrong here, it wasn’t a bait camp at all, it was a fishing camp. This place was a high class double wide displaying both the American and Texas flags hanging high. We had arrived!
One day at bait camp…I realized they might serve food here and I wanted no part of it!
And I was left wondering what sort of crabs gather here while the beer did my belly good. 

I would have taken more photos inside at bait camp, but it was too smokey and I couldn’t breath let alone see. At bait camp, you can chain smoke inside. That’s not cool!

I did stay for a moment to watch the sound check. And by sound check I mean, one night at bait camp I watched a crane operator (a really good one according to B), fiddle with a bunch of buttons to make some guys sound absolutely horrible through those speakers. Seriously, this guy should NOT quit his day job. Note: They sounded great before the sound check!

And one night at bait camp, I sat outside and listened through a muffled door and window as some dudes played music that wouldn’t have been awful had it not been for the really craptastic sound system as the mosquitoes bit me and my babies. 

And one night…at bait camp…I listened as people told the most outlandish tails of catching 97 catfish in less than an hour. Oh there are so many tales to tell but I don’t want to be hateful. 

So my one night…at bait camp…will be my last. No alligators, horrible sound systems, really nice midgets, or smokey rooms for me. Nope, I just need to stay on my island and away from the bait camps. 

One night…at bait camp…I had jokes for days but I decided I’d keep them to myself. Y’all don’t want to know. Just know that the conversation between B and I (and by conversation, I mean my monologue on the way home) was hysterical. 

One night…at bait camp…I realized that I’m a high class redneck, swamp people exist, and alligators don’t swim as long as they can read better than the locals.

Hello Unfamiliar Wall…Meet Face!

First let me apologize for the craptastic cell phone self-portrait. Also, I should apologize for making you look up my rather large nostril. I wish I’d taken a better photo. I wish I had better lighting. I wish…well you know…wish in one hand and poop in the other. Anyway, you’re missing the point. What’s that you say? You have no idea what my point is? I’m OK with that…happens to me often. 
Last Saturday, I had an “incident”. I wasn’t going to share it, but every time it’s brought up in my house or within my inner circles, I laugh…they laugh. It’s all at my expense mind you, but it’s all good since we’re all laughing. 
That face up there is bruised and beaten. It’s hard to tell from the photo. My lip was scuffed up as if I’d been thrown from a car and hit the pavement. And the bruise inside was hideous. That knot on my cheek was also scuffed and very bruised. My eye was pretty much black. I guess I shouldn’t have hidden under makeup for the photo so that you could get the full effect but I can’t change that now. Take my word for it, or ask B, it was bad. 
So…how did this happen? Was I in some car wreck? Was I in a fight? Was I attacked by a wild animal? I almost wish any of the above were true because the truth is just embarrassing. 
Let me explain: I typically go to bed around 2:00 am. Before I go to bed, I pee. If you follow along at all, you know I do that often. And I get up at 6:00 am with the girls to get them off to school. That has been my schedule all year. I decided to change it up and start going to bed around midnight. So Saturday night, I woke up at about 3:00 am to pee because that’s what I do. I’m not very familiar with the new place yet and I’m a sleep walker (have been my entire life). It usually takes me about 3 months to acclimate to a new place. I hate the dark, as in I’m as scared as a little kid of it, and there was no night light in the bathroom. I closed the bathroom door and didn’t turn on the light. Don’t know what I was thinking. I was still totally asleep and when I was done peeing, I couldn’t find my way out (I’m directionally challenged). I started to panic. I’m claustrophobic too. Alone and scared in the dark in a confined space that I’m unfamiliar with, I started running around to find the light (yes running). And I ended up running…face first…in to the wall…right by the light switch I might add. Our walls are textured. It wasn’t pretty. And neither was I once the wall had its way with me. 
I’m not proud of this moment but I’ve learned my lesson. I do have a nightlight now. I’ve learned where the light switch is. And my face is healing (although I’m fairly certain my lip is scarred…really that photo does not do that scrape justice...ask B). I’m even OK with the laughter at my expense at this point (hey…I’d totally laugh too if it wasn’t me…I actually laughed and it was me).
Moral of the story? There has to be a moral. Think scar face, think! Yes, that’s it. The moral of the story is: Never run in a dark, unfamiliar bathroom at 3:00 am. The exercise is not worth the damage that will occur when the textured wall meets your face. Class dismissed!

Galveston Club Paradise: Just What is this Seawall?

The Seawall…the Seawall…she’s always talking about the Seawall. Just what is this Seawall and why do I care?
“The fact that the city of Galveston exists today is the triumph of imagination, hope and determination over reality. Perched precariously on a sand-barrier island in the Gulf of Mexico, Galveston is subject to the whims of inevitable hurricanes. 

One of those hurricanes, dancing its deadly way across the Gulf of Mexico in early September 1900, came very close to dealing the city a fatal blow. An estimated 6,000 residents died, and most structures in the city were destroyed or badly damaged. In terms of human life, it remains the worst natural disaster in United States history.

Galveston’s leaders took several major steps to recover from the storm and to prevent a recurrence of the devastation. First, they developed a new form of municipal government, one with strong centralized control to handle the economic recovery of the city. Next, they built a massive seawall to turn back storm-generated waves. Perhaps the most amazing step they took was to raise the level of the entire city, by more than 16 feet in some areas, in order to keep flooding at a minimum.” (cited:

So did you really read any of that? An estimated 6,000 residents died in the storm of 1900…it remains the worst natural disaster in United States history. And then there was Ike. That Seawall saved many a building, and many a life during that storm, although far too many perished. The island was devastated just the same. But to those of us that inhabit this island, that Seawall is a beautiful thing. We feel safer knowing that flood levels will be minimal thanks to our beloved Seawall and we thank the officials that deemed it necessary way back when.
So why do I talk about the Seawall so much? Because it’s beautiful of course. Because it protects me, my family, and my belongings. And because it represents a history of destruction that we as a community will never allow to invade us again!
Deal with it. You might get sick of hearing me talk about it, but I’ll continue to do so on a daily basis. Over 6,000 people died to make it happen. It deserves our respect, and so do they. And it’s a beautiful thing!