Yesterday was my 52nd birthday, but we've saved the celebrating for tonight, when we will finally be going to check out The Little Texas Bistro, in Buda. I can't wait - it has been getting rave reviews from everyone. Since the time for planting wildflower seeds is upon us, I think we may head over to Wildseed Farm in Fredericksburg, to stock up. Should be a fun day all around!
We continued on our merry way. Some time later, we came to another fork in the road. The sign said Johnson City was to the right, but John turned left. I said, still in a pleasant voice, "I thought you wanted to go through Johnson City?" He replied "Nah, this is the way we need to go." Next thing you know, we were driving through Blanco (I thought he didn't want to go there), and I was starting to get worried, and hungry. Then I saw signs for Canyon Lake. OK, I've been to Canyon Lake before, and it was only a thirty minute drive from Wimberley. Why has it taken two hours for us to get there? Could we be driving in circles? John must also have suspected that something was seriously wrong, for he hesitated a bit, then took the next cut-off. He turned to me with a big smile on his face, and said "Isn't this fun, getting to explore some of the surrounding countryside?" I said "Yeah, I suppose, but I'm really getting hungry. I was hoping to try one of the neat restaurants in Fredericksburg, but I don't think I can wait that long." John spotted a little barbecue joint that was connected to a liquor store, and pulled into their parking lot. I ordered the chicken plate, and he a barbecue sandwich, then we went to sit down. A bit later, the waitress came over and said "We don't have nothin' but dark meat. That OK?" Well no, not really, but "Alright". We sat a while longer, then she came back and told me "The chicken that's done just don't smell quite right. You wanna wait for us to cook up a new batch?" I reply "Tell you what, maybe I'll just take one of those breakfast tacos instead. They don't have any meat in them, do they?"
Finally we were on the road again, and after going through Boerne and Comfort, which are not even close to being on a direct path between Wimberley and Fredericksburg, we pulled into town. There's a neat place there called A Rather Sweet Bakery, run by a women named Rebecca Rather. Articles about her have popped up in several of my magazines lately, and I was dying to check out her shop. However, after being content to just mosey along for the past several hours, John suddenly had a bee in his bonnet, and whizzed down Main Street so fast that I was unable to spot the bakery. Instead, we stopped at a filling station just on the other side of town, for a soda. I told John that I was going to ask the clerk which road we needed to be on to get to the farm. He said "Don't bother, This is it. We're on it." I asked "Are you sure?" He replied "Yes, I'm sure!" So, off we go. About forty-five minutes later, in a voice that was no longer quite so pleasant, I said "Are you absolutely sure this is the right road?" Finally, he pulled off to the side and said "Gimme the damn map!" He spent about five minutes just trying to get it unfolded, ripping it in the process, stared at it for a few minutes, tossed it into my lap, and drove on. My lower lip started to poke out a bit. A while later, he pulled off the road again, grabbed the map, mumbled something about what a shitty map it was, then drove on. My lip poked out a bit further. Finally he did a u-turn, and stopped at another filling station. Did he ask for directions? No, he just bought another map! By this time, my lip was sticking out so far, I was having to hold it in my lap. After studying his new map a while, he said "Well, how on earth did that happen? Can you believe it? We've been driving in the wrong direction!" And then he had the nerve to chuckle. I must have made a choking noise, because he finally turned, and actually looked at my face. In a shocked voice, he said "You look pissed. Why are you pissed?" In a voice that was not the least bit pleasant, I said "You are such a cliche! If you had just asked for directions when I first suggested it, we could have been there hours ago! But nooooo! You don't need no stinkin' directions. You know you're on the right road." He just grinned and said "Well, actually, I was on the right road - just headed in the wrong direction."
I guess I should explain about that grin. It happens to be a magical grin, and has saved his sorry skin on many an occasion. Next thing you knew, I was laughing too. We finally made it to the farm, after only about five hours on the road, but when it was time to head back, I knew I'd better pull out the big guns. I said "Listen buster. If you don't get me back in time for our dinner reservations tonight, I'm not even going to the grocery store this week. We will just eat out every meal, three meals a day, for the entire week. Is that clear?" Know how long it took us to get home? About forty-five minutes!
* * * * *
Although my husband is better than most men I know about "getting in touch with his feminine side", he can occasionally be such a typical male that it is almost painful. As we were about to head out to Fredericksburg, I pulled out my trusty little map of the Hill Country, to look it over. John walked into the room, and I said "Well, it looks like we just need to head to Blanco, then we can take either of these two roads west to Fredericksburg. Wanna take a look?" He just flipped his hand towards the map and said "Nah, I don't need to. I know how to get there." Well, I already know how this story goes, so I surreptitiously folded up the map and slipped it into my purse, just in case. It was about 9:30 in the morning, it was a gorgeous day, and we were both in jovial spirits as we headed out. There is one main road that goes through Wimberley, and it splits in two as it heads north out of town. The left fork goes to Blanco, the right to Dripping Springs. John took the right fork. In my sweetest voice, I said "Honey, isn't Blanco the other way?" He replied "We don't want to go to Blanco. We want to go up to Johnson City." We do? Well, he did recently drive all around this area with his brother Mike when they were touring the vineyards, so maybe he knows something that I don't. "OK Sweetie, whatever you say." As we were driving through Dripping Springs, I spotted a store called Cowgirls and Lace. I told John that I had heard good things about it, so he stopped and we browsed around for a bit. We left around 11:00, and I said "What a great shop! I'm so glad we came this way."We continued on our merry way. Some time later, we came to another fork in the road. The sign said Johnson City was to the right, but John turned left. I said, still in a pleasant voice, "I thought you wanted to go through Johnson City?" He replied "Nah, this is the way we need to go." Next thing you know, we were driving through Blanco (I thought he didn't want to go there), and I was starting to get worried, and hungry. Then I saw signs for Canyon Lake. OK, I've been to Canyon Lake before, and it was only a thirty minute drive from Wimberley. Why has it taken two hours for us to get there? Could we be driving in circles? John must also have suspected that something was seriously wrong, for he hesitated a bit, then took the next cut-off. He turned to me with a big smile on his face, and said "Isn't this fun, getting to explore some of the surrounding countryside?" I said "Yeah, I suppose, but I'm really getting hungry. I was hoping to try one of the neat restaurants in Fredericksburg, but I don't think I can wait that long." John spotted a little barbecue joint that was connected to a liquor store, and pulled into their parking lot. I ordered the chicken plate, and he a barbecue sandwich, then we went to sit down. A bit later, the waitress came over and said "We don't have nothin' but dark meat. That OK?" Well no, not really, but "Alright". We sat a while longer, then she came back and told me "The chicken that's done just don't smell quite right. You wanna wait for us to cook up a new batch?" I reply "Tell you what, maybe I'll just take one of those breakfast tacos instead. They don't have any meat in them, do they?"
Finally we were on the road again, and after going through Boerne and Comfort, which are not even close to being on a direct path between Wimberley and Fredericksburg, we pulled into town. There's a neat place there called A Rather Sweet Bakery, run by a women named Rebecca Rather. Articles about her have popped up in several of my magazines lately, and I was dying to check out her shop. However, after being content to just mosey along for the past several hours, John suddenly had a bee in his bonnet, and whizzed down Main Street so fast that I was unable to spot the bakery. Instead, we stopped at a filling station just on the other side of town, for a soda. I told John that I was going to ask the clerk which road we needed to be on to get to the farm. He said "Don't bother, This is it. We're on it." I asked "Are you sure?" He replied "Yes, I'm sure!" So, off we go. About forty-five minutes later, in a voice that was no longer quite so pleasant, I said "Are you absolutely sure this is the right road?" Finally, he pulled off to the side and said "Gimme the damn map!" He spent about five minutes just trying to get it unfolded, ripping it in the process, stared at it for a few minutes, tossed it into my lap, and drove on. My lower lip started to poke out a bit. A while later, he pulled off the road again, grabbed the map, mumbled something about what a shitty map it was, then drove on. My lip poked out a bit further. Finally he did a u-turn, and stopped at another filling station. Did he ask for directions? No, he just bought another map! By this time, my lip was sticking out so far, I was having to hold it in my lap. After studying his new map a while, he said "Well, how on earth did that happen? Can you believe it? We've been driving in the wrong direction!" And then he had the nerve to chuckle. I must have made a choking noise, because he finally turned, and actually looked at my face. In a shocked voice, he said "You look pissed. Why are you pissed?" In a voice that was not the least bit pleasant, I said "You are such a cliche! If you had just asked for directions when I first suggested it, we could have been there hours ago! But nooooo! You don't need no stinkin' directions. You know you're on the right road." He just grinned and said "Well, actually, I was on the right road - just headed in the wrong direction."
I guess I should explain about that grin. It happens to be a magical grin, and has saved his sorry skin on many an occasion. Next thing you knew, I was laughing too. We finally made it to the farm, after only about five hours on the road, but when it was time to head back, I knew I'd better pull out the big guns. I said "Listen buster. If you don't get me back in time for our dinner reservations tonight, I'm not even going to the grocery store this week. We will just eat out every meal, three meals a day, for the entire week. Is that clear?" Know how long it took us to get home? About forty-five minutes!
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