Tag Archives: the Texas curse

Facial tissue best bet, at least in January

A friend insists there’s a financial future in tattoo removal. For whoever can figure out how to get the ink out of the skin of all those Millennials instead of just blurring the death-before-dishonor or the name of that hot bod who is now sleeping with someone else.

In January, hereabouts, however, facial tissue as the groceries call Kleenex and its derivatives, has got to be where’s it’s at. This is cedar fever season in Central Texas, the time for nose-blowing and sneezing. And my annual promise to move to Alpine soonest. When Mr. B. goes off to college, I may do just that—at least every January.

May the rains disperse the Texas curse

Forecast rain today and tomorrow will be more welcome than usual here at the Rancho. This winter’s round of cedar fever (which isn’t a fever and isn’t about cedar) has been a particularly bad one. Although they’re always bad enough.

The damn juniper (called mountain cedar) trees have been puffing out billows of pollen which only a rain can disperse. We’ve had several good rains but the damn pollen has always come back to give me another snoot-full.

If the Democrat/Obama economy wasn’t so rotten so many other places this annual curse would be cutting into our bumper-to-bumper traffic. Hasn’t noticeably so far, however.

A prayer is in order: May this rain finally do the trick.

The Texas Curse, early this year

My nose has been running and its itching causing sneezing fits for a week now and I know it ain’t a cold. It’s cedar fever, early this year. I can’t decide whether the light rain we’re having is keeping the culprit juniper pollen out of the air or making it worse.

How could it make it worse? Beats me. When the Texas Curse hits you try to reason why, but you fail because there’s no reasoning about it. You just pray it doesn’t last more than a few weeks. Shoot, even afflicted atheists pray it doesn’t last too long.

But even when it’s not in the air outdoors, the heating system has pulled it into the house and distributed it around. Even if you vacuumed and dusted, it’d still be around. I know. I’ve tried. Better to hunker down with a good book and lots of tissues. And wait it out.

The Texas Curse

The annual Texas curse is back. It hits me the worst about this time every year. Cedar Fever. When the airborne pollen hits your nose, it mimics a really, really bad cold with its own special features.

You know you have it when your eyes burn and the roof of your mouth itches. And you get into sneezing fits while your nose runs. If it goes on and on until you want to die, that’s cedar fever. But despite the common name, it’s not “cedar trees” behind it. It’s juniper that the Hill Country’s early Anglo settlers called Mountain Cedar. Know thy enemy.

Nowadays, thanks to the damn birds carrying the seeds around, the trees grow all up and down the I-35 corridor, from about Waco in the north to San Antonio in the south. People in Beaumont, way over on the Gulf coast east of Houston, swear that a really strong cold front will bring the juniper pollen to them, too.

Texas Monthly claims cedar fever only lasts a week. They lie. It can begin in November and go on until around Valentine’s. Every year Austin allergists come up with a different reason why it’s so bad: too much rain, not enough rain, too cold, too warm. After 35 years of it I’m convinced they know nothing and have no remedies. Except a series of pollen shots you have to start in the spring. They’re expensive and they frequently don’t work.

Every year I swear I’m going to move to West Texas (preferably Alpine) to get away from this. But I never do. Maybe someday. The only blessing a really bad cedar fever season brings is to thin out of some of  Austin’s godawful traffic.