Ice Day

Yesterday I went to the Fort Worth Stock Show & Rodeo (this is where you yell, Yee-haw! and then continue reading this post) to do some reporting for a story about whether the event is being impacted by the economy. This is the same event that started my journalism career in Fort Worth, two years ago, and I got these nice memories of eating funnel cakes for lunch and smelling like cows all day when I walked through the grounds.

When I was finished with my reporting, I noticed I had a text message from my ME telling me to go home, since there was an ice storm headed for North Texas. I left the Stock Show, drove out to the barn to check on the horses and make sure they were in their blankets and would stay inside all night, then picked up some movies and spent the night on the couch, watching movies.

I could hear the freezing rain coming down as I fell asleep last night, and this morning Fenway woke me up around 5:20 and after I fed him some food to shut him up I looked out the window. Behold! Ice! Everywhere! I didn't have an interview until 11, so I woke up again at 8:30, called to change the interview from in-person to on-the-phone due to the icy streets, and went back to bed. My ME sent out a message saying we were free to work from home, but all my notes were on my computer at work so I ended up being there for the afternoon.

Usually on Wednesday nights I drive out to Dallas to see Dan (or, more importantly, to see Top Chef or Project Runway, since I don't get Bravo at my place), but no way in hell I'm doing that today. It warmed up to about 40 this afternoon, and a lot of ice melted, but all the slush and puddles are just going to refreeze tonight. If I went to Dallas, I'd be driving back in ice again, and I'm not dealing with that. It's a nerve-wracking drive in bad conditions.

Since I wasn't driving to Dallas, I ended up going to this massive (and seriously, I mean massive) antique mall to look for tables/chairs for a new apartment and instead bought a really heavy brass piggy bank from Chicago. It's beautiful, looks like a real pig, heavy and solid and it was a total impulse buy, I'm not afraid to admit. Since I felt a bit bad about paying $40 for a piggy bank, I went to Central Market and spent more money on apples and clementines.

Dinner today was a giant apple, a half pound of edamame (hey, it was all shells), two clementines, and I'm going to have a slice of cake. They somehow even each other out.

Tomorrow after work I have to go to this grand opening/rededication sort of thing that includes drinks and desserts. It's not really for a story or anything at the moment; it's more of a mingling thing, and I feel decidedly awkward mingling. I do it; I walk over to strangers, introduce myself, strike up conversation, collect some business cards, but I have to force it. I may have talked about this before, but Dan and I have a theory that most journalists really hate talking to people. Way down, in the recesses of your journalist's soul, it just feels wrong. A lot of us get into this because we like hearing other people talk, we like being the one to record histories, we like collecting data. We just hate having to do that back-and-forth that normal society likes.

But if they're serving alcohol, I can have a glass or two of wine or a few beers (I hate that I'm usually the only woman who drinks beer at these events; why do women always drink wine, even if it's bland?) and the mingling will become a bit more easy.

I just watched a baby hippo get eaten by a crocodile. That's what I get for putting on Animal Planet. This effing channel. I'm going to fiddle with the channel and find that cake to revive me.