That's right, I'm not from Texas

But if my old crush Lyle Lovett is to be believed, Texas wants me anyway.  Well, it's mutual.  I love Texas.  I was here hummunuh years ago after college, driving through with my best friend on our way across the country  (we were driving her to Santa Fe, where she had decided she wanted to live - we were there not twenty minutes when suddenly she wailed, "I hate it here!! Everything's brown!!  I don't want to live here! So on we pushed to California, where we piled into my mom's house for a while.)

I remember thinking that San Antonio was lovely, that Houston was hot, and west Texas went on for a long time (we drove under a full moon so bright that we turned off our headlights), but it's hard to imagine that I didn't have the full force of the feelings that I'm having on this trip.

Texas is the intersection of the things that fascinate me about the South (they seceded!) and the things that I love about the West (they probably didn't much want to be a part of the confederacy either!), but that's glib.  Texas is unique, beautiful and a little harsh.

Iced Tea at the 290 Diner in Johnson City

This was my iced tea at lunch on my first day.  I went to the 290 Diner, where I could have ordered Chicken Fried Chicken for my lunch.  They brought me this iced tea, and I tried to capture its size by using the packet of sweetener for scale.  I don't think it really does.  I tried to take a picture of my hand holding the glass, but it was so big that I couldn't hold the glass and take the picture at the same time.

But here's how big it really is - see the guy in the background?  Need I point out that that man is smaller than my drink?!?  Well, that, my friends, was a Blanco County Sheriff.  I was so excited to see a Real Texas Sheriff (real cowboy hat! real cowboy boots! possible six-shooter!) that I all I could do was gape.  I wanted desperately to ask him for a picture, but I was too embarrassed.  I didn't want to look like a city slicker, so instead I took pictures of my drink.

I will post later about why I went to Johnson City (hint: I did not choose to go to George W. Bush City), but in the meantime, here are my favorite non-New York things that happened in the Hill Country:

1) a woman brought me my salad (at a very lovely restaurant called The Pink Pig and said, "is this your order, sweetie baby?"  How do you beat that for a greeting?

2) these signs in a window:

3) when I dropped in to Lazy S Western Wear to see if I could find a little cowgirl shirt for my daughter, the young woman asked me if it was for the rodeo.  This is just not something that would ever come up where I live.

And then, sitting there right by the cash register was the photo of the Lazy S Western Wear Girls' Rodeo Team.  I could not imagine what they do, but I have since discovered, on good authority, that they do barrel racing.  I have a feeling they could kick our Little League team's patooties.