Growing Up Catholic in a Small Texas Town The Horse I Almost Rode in On I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my Texas roots. It’s as if the Lone Star State is calling me home, saying, “You were born here, and by golly, you’ll die here.” Anyway, you know how one thought leads to another and another and another. For this blog post, I was thinking about the new red cowboy boots I just bought (identical to my old pair), and the first pair of red boots I had when I was two. Then…

Once a Badass, Always . . . — Someone called me a badass yesterday. It was meant as a complement. It also surprised me because I never thought of myself as a badass, and certainly not when I was growing up. I felt more like a socially awkward, tongue-tied girl. So how did I achieve this new moniker…

The Book of Genesis (According to Me) — In the Book of Genesis, God created Earth, all the creatures, and man and woman, in six days; and then rested on the seventh day to appraise his work. I think that after looking down on all the animals running around having fun, He became sad because he couldn’t connect…

Growing Up Catholic in a Small Texas Town: The First Date This topic has been bubbling up from the miasmic depth of my brain. Several attempts to stuff it back down have failed. It grew like a bowl of kolache dough given too much yeast. So, here it is: How many of you remember your first date? Silly question…

My idea for this writing tip was to explain Texas colloquialisms. Yeah, right. People have written tomes on this topic. Translating Texan in five minutes is impossible. However, I feel that most non-Texans understand what we’re trying to say. We just add extra words for emphasis and shortened other words…

The Evolution of a Beer Joint — Seems I write a lot about beer — not intentionally, it just happens. If you’re Czech and grew up Catholic in a small Texas town in the 1950s, beer was always around. Beer in tin-tubs of ice, beer in the refrigerator, beer at church functions, and of course…

The Nuns of St. Mary’s — Growing up Catholic in a small Texas town, I couldn’t even imagine a different life back then. And there’s no regret or resentment now — not a shred. The only problem, as a child, was I took life too seriously. Though I’ve driven by my old school hundreds…

You want to write, but how do you find time? It’s easy. — Anyone can find an extra fifteen minutes in his or her day to write something — just don’t view it as a task. A task implies work and you’re already doing enough of that. Instead, give (as in gift) yourself permission to write fifteen minutes a day. Permission means approval…

Blame It on Aunt Evelyn and Lucy Lui You may have noticed that I’m in late posting this blog. Writing about guilt, Catholic guilt especially, sends me in all different directions: down the serious road (not good since this series is supposed to make people laugh); down the preachy road…