"What's wrong?", I gasped into the phone."Texas coffee is terrible," he replied. "You'd think they'd have good coffee in Texas. I mean, if it's black and hot and it's in Texas, it should be good, shouldn't it?"
"Honey," I laughed. "If it's black and hot and in Texas, you must be drinking oil."
The dear boy reported that he'd gone to 3 gas stations before finding one that had coffee and then it was only half a pot and looked like it had been sitting there for several hours.
"And they don't even have coffee machines here, Mom," he bemoaned. "Not even a capaccino machine."
"Son, you need to get off the freeway and find a nice cafe. One where the waitresses have pencils stuck in their hair and call you 'Hon' and pour you steaming coffee out of endless fresh pots. That's where you'll find good coffee."
Well, I guess he'll just have to wait to sample good Texan cuisine until we move down there. Yep, we are destined to be Texans. We're shirttail Texans right now, as it is. My husband's father was a direct descendant of early Texas pioneers. We've been dreaming of making the move to Texas for some time now and I'm more than ready. I've been ready to move out West since I was a kid. While other girls played exclusively with dolls, I was riding the range with the Lone Ranger and Tonto and tracking bad guys with Sky King. Even as a teen, I could have cared less about soap operas.....I loved westerns. I used to saddle up the old oil drum outside the farm house and sit in that saddle for hours imagining that I was riding the range.
So if you happen to see a red Pontiac Vibe with a Pennsylvania license plate heading across the Texas plains piloted by a dreamy-eyed lady singing exhuberantly while clutching a coffee pot in one hand, with a white dog in the back seat followed by a gray-haired guy in a gray SUV loaded with yarn, you'll know we've made in to our new home state.
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