Officially required to own a cowboy hat

That’s right, bitches: I’m a Texas resident.

I’d like to thank the Internet, my San Antonio map, the slew of government offices I had to visit over the past few months and Gloria, the nicest government employee I’ve ever met at the Bexar County Tax Office. I couldn’t have done it without you, boo!

Here, you have to EARN the right to become a Texan. They don’t make it easy. And it’s EXPENSIVE. I have a feeling this is their way of weeding out the bad apples. Sort of a survival of the fittest for new residents. Don’t have a permenant residence? Have a clunker for a car? Can’t come up with the money? WE DON’T WANT YOU IN OUR STATE.

My first insight into this was when I took Jerry (My Jetta) in for a recall.

Maintenance guy: “Your car hasn’t had an inspection yet.”

Me: “Huh? Like an emissions test? Does it need one? It’s, like a year old.”

Apparently in Texas “All Texas registered vehicles are required to receive an annual inspection. All inspections include a comprehensive safety inspection; however, some vehicles are required to have an emissions test in addition to the safety inspection.”

Cost: $15

Then, you have to register your car in Texas…and you have to do this BEFORE you get your license. I don’t know why. Someone higher up just deemed it so. And to do this, you have to go to the county tax office in your county. I live in the biggest damn county in San Antonio and there’s only one office – downtown. The Husband and I ventured here on Tuesday during torrential downpour rain. Guess what? No line! Yay! Ball in our court!

But I have a lease, which makes registering my car harder than the LSAT. A tube of whiteout later, we came up with the correct info on the correct forms

Cost to register car and buy plates: $195!

And they expire every year! “But next time it will just be $70,” Gloria assured me. JUST!? Oh, and you have to pay by check or cash. Who uses checks anymore?

Now, onto my license. This time, I was PREPARED. I had every piece of information sensitive document I had in tow. Birth Certificate, marriage license, social security card, all in a manila envelope. I was an identity thief’s wet dream.

The people at the Texas Dept. of Public Safety do NOT take identity theft jokes lightly, by the way.

After an hour in line I took the vision test (with my glasses for the First. Time. Ever. Sad.) and I was booked – I’m not kidding. I was finger printed and everything. To make it easier when I am arrested for smuggling illegal immigrants I guess? (I say this because I loved the play-on-words posted “Texas Hold ‘em” meaning they’ll take (hold?) your license if you smuggle drugs or people over the border. Something tells me that’s not all they’d do, but whatever.)

I smiled pretty for the camera (though she took the picture as soon as I STOPPED smiling, of course) I was handed a slip of paper. Oh yea, I won’t get my actual license for two weeks. Not a big deal for me because I have a fancy military ID but the woman next to me pitched a FIT. “How will I buy my smokes with this piece of crap?!”

Cost for license: $24

Total cost of becoming a Texan: $234 + mental anguish.

I’m off to shop a new hat!

Afternoon Delight

Sunday, The Husband and I had grand plans to float the Guadalupe since A. it was 90 degrees in September and we’re Ohioans. B. it only requires a tube and a beer and we are low maintenance.

Guess what? Texans ALSO believe Labor Day weekend is the end of summer. When we floated back in July, it was a hot, packed mess of people and tubes and way too many cowboy hats for my taste. Sunday there was … well, I think I saw one person meandering downstream.

People … in OHIO summer activities end because it is, indeed, too cold for summer activities. It was partly cloudy and 90 degrees on Sunday – a perfect summerlike day.

Or perhaps they were all home watching football?

So we took our cooler and flip flops to Jacob’s Creek park at Canyon Lake where we sponged music off of the picnickers on the next table over and drank beer and watched the water. It’s really a beautiful area and, if we were prepared, we would have totally set up shop there for the day. Unfortunately, The Husband gets cranky when hungry and goldfish crackers were not satiating, so we left after an hour.

My question is … what the hell do South Texans DO in the fall? There are no leaves to rake, it’s too hot for corn mazes and hot cider and high school football is on Fridays (It’s SO Friday Night Lights down here). Please advise.

Taking care of business

We rent our house in San Antonio. So, when something breaks, we call a landlord to fix it.

Seems simple, right?

Except our technical “landlords” live in Oklahoma, the property manager reminds me of Wilford Brimley with a sugar low and, because the house is new, the homebuilder has to determine if the “Thing That Breaks” is covered under warranty. And if it is…THEY hire a contractor to fix it.

Got that?

The breaker to our office is on the fritz. It keeps tripping, making it nearly impossible for me to create witty and eloquent blog entries for my loyal fan base. It needs to be fixed, pronto. Here is how the events have unfolded, thus far:

1. The husband calls the property manager.
2. The property manager calls the homeowner.
3. The Homeowner calls the builder.
4. The property manager calls me, because I am home.
5. He tells me he is calling the builder.
6. The builder calls me.
7. The builder comes over, determines it’s under warranty, calls a contractor.
8. The contractor calls me to set up an appointment, even though I am in the same room with the builder who is on the phone with the contractor.
9. The contractor comes over Monday. Seemingly fixes the issue.
10. Breaker still trips.
11. Builder calls me to check on the progress. I tell him it’s still broken.
12. He tells me to call the contractor directly.
13. I call The husband to bring him back to speed.
14. I call the contractor, make another appointment
15. The builder calls to ensure the problem is in the process of being fixed.
16. I am now waiting for the contractor to come during his über-convenient time-frame of 1:00 pm to whenever-the-hell-he-feels-like-showing-up.

Your move, contractor. Your move.

Here are the top 10 things I cannot live without in San Antonio:

[Editor's Note: OK I stole this idea from a fellow blogging San Antonio newcomer who actually gets HER blogs posted on the San Antonio New Express Web site. She moved here two months before we did…stealing my dream job of blogging about San Anton with a purpose (read: pay check)! But I enjoy her blogs anyway and we actually have a lot in common…]

1.Chips and salsa. I'm not sure I've been to a restaurant that doesn't serve these up upon arrival YET. So far our fav is the salsa at Guajillo's (which I can never write without googling the proper spelling...sigh).

2. Bodies of water. I am just NOT accustomed to months-long stretches of 100+ degree days.... At least we can escape by tubing or kayaking on the Guadalupe and Comal, lounging at Canyon Lake (if it hasn’t dried up yet from lack of rain) or a day-trip to the ocean! In Cleveland we had the mighty banks of … Lake Erie. Which, more often than not, was not suitable for swimming due to high levels of bacteria. Yes, they do have this issue here…but that just means you go to another lake, or river, or the ocean …they’re all within a day’s drive!

3. The pool at Fort Sam. probably should be shuffled in with bodies of water, but I like having access to a pool (it’s on base) because it allows me to interact with people while The Husband is at work. I feel like a part of a community – even though, while I’m there I usually just plow through books and magazines, only stopping every 20 min. or so to jump in the water.

4. The Quarry Market (or “The Quarry” as the locals call it). It has the same vibe as Crocker Park but it also meets all of my shopping needs in one place: Whole Foods (it’s my Trader Joe’s substitute since there are NO TJ’s in the entire state of Texas – WTF?), Borders and … Old Navy. Normally, I despise this store because it’s usually filled with ill-fitting clothing made by 8-year-olds in Guam and crying babies. But when you need a collection of sundresses and tank tops to get you through a San Antonio summer, well, the ON and its annoying talking mannequins have won me over with their cheap prices. And? Every first day of the month military members get a 10% discount! Which brings me to …

5. My military ID. I get a mad discount everywhere with this baby! Not only can I buy non-taxed clothes, shoes (I got new Nike Shox for $70!), liquor (tequila is dirt cheap at the Class Six) and groceries from the PX, I saved money on my rental car (for when I am back in Cleveland next month), hotels, books, Old Navy, you name it. I look morbidly obese in the photo, but most people never look at it.

6. Sunscreen. Because jesus on a pogo stick do I burn easy this close to the equator!

7. Skirts. Because … did I mention it’s hot in Texas? It's like built-in wardrobe air conditioning. I haven’t worn pants since May. In fact, I tried on a pair of pants the other day and they were way too big! I guess I am losing some weight (likely due to all the sweating in the heat. It's hot here) … which brings me to …

8. My Gold’s Gym membership. I’m not sure you could call me an exercise addict because I’d have to be stick thin to qualify, no? But I am at this place - which is a scant 2 miles from my house - EVERY DAY, SOMETIMES TWICE. I’m not bragging by any means. It’s my outlet for stress, sadness, loneliness and anger. Plus, I found several classes that I just love: BodyJam is sort of like training to be a Britney backup singer or in an R&B music video. I’ve learned a lot of crazy dances and moves. Granted, that rhythm and skill I don’t have in Zumba? Yeah, it applies here too. But it’s way fun to groove to “Party Like a Rock Star” and “Turnin Me On” By Keri Hilson/Lil Wayne. Then there’s BodyAttack which is hard to describe. It’s like boot camp – you run in place and do calisthenics and jumping jacks until you pass out. I love it. Plus, the instructors are really fun and the people in the classes are not tan, anorexic cougars like back home....they're real people.

9. Facebook. True to its advertising, it’s my connection to my friends and family. And when you’re often alone for 8-hour stretches, it’s vital to my sanity.

10. The Husband. Aw, I know, sap. But he is my rock here. My best friend and … the only one I know in this city other than my Aveda Institiute hair stylist – and that’s only because it took about three and a half hours to make me a blonde yesterday, so we had some time to chat.