Have you ever looked at a state and thought, "I wonder if I could afford to live there if the economy went so sour that I had to pick berries and kill horny toads to feed my family?" Oh. Well...I have. There are a few things that a guy needs, even if he wants or doesn't want, really needs in life.
A good pair of boots.
Shoes are good. they might even be a staple, but boots are the only thing we call boots. Even if they sit in the closet until you attend your daughter's hayride harvest hoedown. I'm sorry, but I have no idea how to spell hoedown and I'm real uneasy mentioning the word in the same sentence as daughter, so let's move on. Just believe me, you will look cool in boots. They are more comfortable than you think. Even if they are the pointy kind, they're not the kind of pointy that the women know about when they wear those shoes that stick out about a car-length ahead of their largest, most forward thinking toe.
A worthy pocket knife.
You need to be able to do this: Pick a peach. Whip out your sodbuster pocket knife and cut it up into manageable wedges. Eating a peach without cutting it is like letting it have the last word. It's like being punked by the fruit before it dies. You are on it's bucket list. After you enjoy your peach, you wipe both sides of the knife on your jeans, close the knife, and slip it in your pocket right next to your cell phone which is in the same pocket as your keys and your iPod. I recommend Case brand of pocket knife. They are still made in USA. If you shopped all day, it might be the only thing you could find which was not made in China. Buy one and pretend that you are finished supporting a communist military regime with stuff pointing at our grandmas.
A piece of land to call his Zone.
It's just wrong to feel that you can't pee in the bushes without offending someone or getting arrested. What if you have a son? What's he gonna think? That you just urinate in toilets? You may not believe me, but that boy will need treatment when he gets older.
A dog.
A mans best friend is his dog. This means they get to pee outside together. Plus the pooch gets to do more. If you rent, or live in the city, you are required to pick up the soft steamy remains of his/her bottom art. You have once again been punked. You get to walk around with the prize in a thin plastic publix bag. We are not meant to serve any animal lie this. You wouldn't do that for your... well... even bestest friend. I hope you wouldn't. People who do stuff like that usually end up in a happy house with a male nurse teaching them crafts. Or they get a grant from the National Endowment for The Arts. Man, you need the dog, but the dog needs some land.
I got the boots and the knife. I'm heading to Texas. Does that mean we are moving there? Too early to tell. There are still plots of land that you can buy for less than a grand per acre. Most other places are out of my price range right now. Is there some cowboy in me? You bet. Will I like Texas and decide that we will search for our "Bubbling Crude?" I don't know.
So, that's the journey. I'm following some of my own advice. I don't do that all the time. This time, I have to figure it out for the people who look to me. The three little ones who call me "Daddy" (actually one of them just calls me "Aaaa!") and the other one who calls me... Paul.
Dallas, Abilene, Wichita Falls, San Angelo, Alpine. In search of some land and a dog... and a reasonable sized tree for both of us.