Ramblings of a Non-Native Texan

The Jonas Brothers, that trio of young, musically-inclined manhood, kicked off their World Tour 2009 with a performance at the new Cowboys Stadium in Arlington, TX. Since my 8-year-old daughter is a big Jonas Bros fan, and since we live maybe 30 minutes from the stadium, and since my common sense evidently took a leave of absence, I agreed to take her to the show. We bought tickets weeks ago, and by the time the day arrived, she was almost ricocheting off the walls with glee. I’d never been to the new stadium before, but I was happy to attempt the pilgrimage to what locals affectionately call “the death star” in order to take my daughter to her very first real, live concert.

Drew looks cool while waiting for the stadium doors to open.

We left early, getting to one of the many cash parking lots around 5 pm. The doors to the stadium opened at 5:30, and we were right there in line with the crowds of 14-year-old girls and menopausal mothers pushing to get in. Drew was great, very patient with all the waiting. We got in, found our seats, and surveyed the monstrous building from the inside. And boy, was it VAST. Even with the entire upper level of seats closed off, it looks ginormous. The people down on the floor looked so small; Drew cracked a few jokes about crushing their little heads (trust me, it was funny at the time and not at all sociopathic).

And Jerry Jones looked upon his huge, hulking stadium, and he saw that it was good...

The first act didn’t go on until 7, so we wandered, got food (mmmm, salty pretzels!), and invested $30 in a souvenir program and light stick. I was hoping Drew would kill some time by reading the program, but the program ended up being page after page of slick photos of the Jonas Brothers, with maybe four words to a page, so the “reading” aspect didn’t take as long as I thought it would. Then we started playing with the camera, because few things are as fun to pre-teen girls as taking goofy photos.

Waiting for the Jonas Brothers can make you a little loopy.

The first act, Honor Society, was on schedule, and they weren’t too bad. But they were off the stage by 7:25, which surprised me. Then Jordin Sparks went on, and I was kinda underwhelmed by her. Maybe it was the sound system that wasn’t being all that great, but I could have done without her performance. Drew enjoyed it, though. And by 8 pm, all the opening acts were done, and we were waiting for the Jo Bros to appear.

The “real” show started at 8:45. Lights, pyrotechnics, drama, and a rotating stage with an elevator in the middle that brought the Jonas Brothers up from the bowels of the floor and into the sights of fifty thousand screaming, hormonal young girls. Drew was completely mesmerized with a big smile on her face. The boys launched right into a performance of “Paranoid,” and they didn’t slow the momentum down until after the first four or five songs. When they did downshift into slower numbers, the crowd still hung on their every note and screamed bloody murder when the songs were done. Drew waved her light stick in the air like the other girls in the crowd and sang along when she knew the words (which was more often than I expected).

Nick Jonas plays the piano while maintaining perfect hair.

The overwhelming awesomeness of a Jo Bro Show.

To their credit, the Jonas Brothers put on a great show… each brother plays several instruments, the back up band included violins, trombones and saxes, and the stage had such extras as a crane to lift the boys over the crowd and a rain machine that somehow created shapes (like hearts) in the rain. Drew gradually wilted as the night wore on; she’s not used to being up that late. And when I could tell the last number was starting up, I got her on her feet and down the stairs to the street level.

“They’re not done yet!” she protested weakly.

“It’s the last song,” I said. “We can stand down here and watch until they finish.”

I did not tell her what an “encore” was or that they would certainly perform one. She was dead on her feet, and I didn’t want to get stuck in the stadium traffic. People have lost their minds in that traffic.

As soon as the Jonas Brothers yelled “goodnight, everyone!” we were out the door and hiking to the car. As tired as Drew was, she still hustled. And then she was in the car and asleep before I’d even found the interstate.

So overall, it was a great show. More than that, it was a great outing with my daughter. You can’t beat bonding like that. She had an awesome time, and I hope she’ll always remember it.

If she forgets, the souvenir program and light stick will remind her!

I’m not much of a gun person. I don’t have a problem with the people who like and own guns, but for myself, I never wanted to own one, I’d only ever shot one at camp, and I definitely didn’t want them around my kids. I still don’t. But my boyfriend recently got his own handgun, a .40 S&W (the kids don’t live with us, so they won’t be crossing paths with it). And like true Texans, we took it to the gun range on Sunday to fire off a few rounds for the fun of it.

We had been to the range once before, and that time, we’d rented a range gun: a very simple Glock 9 mm. We’d grabbed the eye guards and ear coverings, chosen a paper target, and taken our position in one of the many numbered lanes that faced the gaping expanse of the range. The ceiling, floor and walls were all dull gray and battered from stray bullets. The empty shells on the floor were scattered everywhere, some swept into a pile of shiny brass. It was crowded; the sound of shots from a variety of guns reverberated even through the ear guards. I admit to being nervous… This was a GUN, something I pretty much feared, and I was going to hold it and shoot it.

What I remember about that first outing was that 1) I did better on the target shooting than I thought, and 2) that gun jammed after almost every shot for me. It was annoying. But I did have fun, and I felt proud of myself for actually doing well. I could see the appeal of owning a gun for target shooting (although I still don’t see the appeal of hunting… it’s not a “sport” unless you arm the deer, people).

So my boyfriend eventually got his own handgun, a more powerful one than the one we’d used at the range. It was perfect for him. He’s taken it out to a few other ranges in the past couple of months, but I hadn’t gone with him until this past Sunday. Time to try the new gun! I was feeling more Texan by the minute. Not just one outing to the gun range, but TWO visits there now. That makes it a pattern, right?

We got there, did the whole “No, we don’t need to rent a gun, we brought our own” thing, handed over our drivers licenses, and went to work. We chose a target with big numbered spots on it. It was pretty quiet at the range, with only a few other lanes occupied. My boyfriend went first, and he did awesome. Then he smiled and waved me to the line to take some shots of my own. I cradled the gun in two hands, lined up my shot, and squeezed the trigger.

That gun leaped so much that I thought it was trying to escape.

I tried again. Same thing! The size difference between this gun and the rented 9 mm wasn’t much, but the power was a lot different. I couldn’t control this one at all. My arms/wrists/hands weren’t strong enough to lessen the kick of the little monster. I did hit the paper that the targets were printed on, but there was no way I could aim accurately for those numbered dots.

“I don’t like this gun,” I said to my boyfriend, putting it down. And then I thought, wow, I have not only shot guns a few times, but I’ve also developed a preference for one of them over another! I’m definitely Texan now.

My boyfriend took a few more shots, then handed off to me again. I agreed to try a little longer, but still, the kick was too much to handle. My boyfriend admitted that he could see the reaction of my hands every time I fired. He took the gun back and finished off the rounds we had brought.

We both had fun, but that is definitely HIS gun. Which is good, since I still don’t much like guns. But I gotta say, going to the range is a lot of fun, especially if you want something different to do from the usual dinner-and-a-movie date night. I’m looking forward to going back sometime! But next time, I’m renting the 9 mm again. That gun and I get along.

Only in Texas…

Leave work early and go play!

Yep, today is Leave Work Early Day. I swear, I’m not making it up. Not that I’d have to… There are some WEIRD holidays out there.

I used to work in an office to which I’d commute roughly 40 minutes each way. In north Texas, that’s a drop in the bucket. Many people drive much further; it’s not uncommon for commutes to be an hour and a half or more. I’ve never lived anywhere that is so spread out… the idea of abandoning the car for an earth-friendly bike is almost unheard of here. Nothing is walking distance or biking distance. Texans love their space, and they love their vehicles, especially their soccer mom SUVs and their big cowboy trucks. It’s one of the more annoying things about this state.

But I digress. The point I was trying to make was that leaving work early was a BIG deal for me there, because it meant getting a bit ahead of the traffic, getting home while it was still light out, etc. It was nice to have an excuse, ANY excuse, to slip out before 5 and call it a day.

But none of that affects me the way it used to, because I work from home now. Sure, I still have to venture out of the house sometimes, and my family lives on the other side of the metro area (a little more than an hour away in no traffic), but I don’t have to get into the car first thing in the morning and fight my way through the rush hour and toll roads and backed up accident scenes anymore. I get up first thing in the morning and get onto the computer before 7:30 am, but that’s still better than, you know, having to wear high heels, or even be dressed for work at all.

So Leave Work Early Day isn’t quite so significant to me anymore, since “leaving work” now means “turning off the computer and wandering off to do some laundry or make dinner.” But for YOU, dear reader, it could be a chance to celebrate with a little much-needed freedom (and now that you hate me for working at home, you probably need a few minutes to relax and let off a little steam)! Even if “early” means just a few minutes ahead of your usual quittin’ time, try to take advantage of it. And if telling your boss that it’s National Leave Work Early Day isn’t enough to get him or her to let you loose, try a random excuse generator like this one.

Just remember: when you DO leave early, watch out for those SUVs and trucks on the road. They’re brutal.