He’s somewhere on the coast, with three friends and the parents of one of them, presumably beach combing, if not salt water splashing.
Rockport? Port Aransas? Corpus? Strange not to know, but that’s the way it is with teenagers. I was lucky to get the parents names and cell numbers. Didn’t think to ask about the destination until he was gone.
Just now he texts that they’re on Matagorda Bay, but he’s unsure of any towns around. Checking the map, and the most likely route, looks like he’s near Port Lavaca or Port O’Connor.
This is not really a surprise to me and I’m sure it won’t be to Mr. Boy either when he takes the SAT on March 11. He’s used to being inundated with PC and Progressive nonsense at school.
They started teaching him about American slavery in first grade. And not to be outdone by history, they piled on with fears of Global Warming. The latter had him really frightened until I assured him it was pure political bullshit.
In my grade school days (the 1950s) slavery was a taboo topic and PC was to ignore ubiquitous legal segregation in business and government. It would have been smarter then, and would be now as well, to let, as the song says, freedom ring
When Mr. B. and I lost our dental insurance and I discovered how expensive it would be to get another policy, I signed up for a dental discount service. Then I discovered it was mainly useful for the service with its $30 down and $15 a month.
Then I discovered that most people don’t have dental insurance. Possibly because dental discounts are easy to get if you pay up front instead of forcing them to ply an insurance company with paperwork and long delays. Just ask the dentist’s office manager. You might not get more than 10 percent off, but you never know. Especially if you write a check immediately.
So the so-called discount services are little more than a scam for the untutored. It got worse when I tried to cancel the subscription and discovered the “service” web site claiming not to recognize my sign-in and password. I had to go through my credit card company, instead, and ask them to deny the charges. They did.
Mr. Boy passed his DPS driving test Wednesday afternoon and is now a fully qualified, permanently-licensed Texas non-commercial automobile driver.
Later that night he made his first solo run in Mrs. Charm’s sedan to our local CVS to buy some Xmas stuff. Shrugged it off as being no big deal. But I doubt it. I remember my first one. He’ll drive the sedan henceforth because it’s an automatic and mine is a stick which he doesn’t know how to use.
The flying flurries on this here blog, I mean, a little something WordPress offers every winter season. And the closest Central Texas is likely to get to real snow anytime soon. Although it sure as hell has been cold the last few days.
We can thank the local Woolly Bear caterpillar, according to KXAN, which is predicting a cold winter. Fortunately things should be warming up over Xmas and into next week, at least for a while—good thing for Mr. Boy as he is off to Scout camp for a week in nearby Bastrop on the 26th.
The anti-Trump poop is getting really deep here in Lefty-land Austin. But this is a new one.
Picked up Mr. B. tonight after his Spanish club meeting. Drove past his favorite burger joint, a local shop called Wally’s. There, on Wally’s digital sign in big green letters: Pray For Our Nation.
Mrs. C. and I did too good a job, I said, meaning our time at the daily with its dominant Democrat reporting narrative and editorial viewpoint. The Democrats of course, are in low dudgeon and high smear as usual when they lose.
But Pray For Our Nation? Preposterous.