Edward Hartline Music
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family, food and floods

6/22/2011

 
All of George Strait’s exes may live in Texas, but so do our sisters, and 
we’re pretty sure he never met either of them.

We enjoyed the West Texas hospitality of Stella’s sister’s family for a 
couple of nights.  Highlights included a game of Scrabble over morning 
coffee/tea, a caravan to the Dairy Queen, terrific grilled burgers with zucchini 
and some kickin’ mac & cheese.  Hm.  We really weren’t just there for the 
food, I promise!  We also had adventures in  shopping, which netted me some 
great gifts for everybody back home.  (And yes, my daughter loved the pickle 
pops!)  They were lovely to share their home with us and we truly appreciate all 
of the trouble they took to make us feel welcome.

We then headed east.  At one point, somewhere on Texas 7,  Edward got the 
giggles over seeing a cow drop an exceptionally large pattie.  Then we passed 
some type of agricultural tents (that’s all I could figure out that they could 
be, but I’m still not certain) that looked like giant white worms, complete with 
smiley faces drawn on the ends that faced the road, which set him off again.  
Stella and I were laughing at his hysterics when a small bird decided to end it 
all by flying into my windshield.  All of this was within about 2 minutes, and 
saddened as we were by the suicidal bird (which slid up the roof and off the 
back), we couldn’t stop laughing.  Ah, free road entertainment!

My sister had set up a private party for Edward to play, and we had a good, 
attentive crowd of around 25.  They were quite impressed (of course!), buying 
CDs and a couple of t-shirts, too.  The weather turned rainy by the time we were 
through, so Edward and Stella had to quickly load equipment into the car before 
it got too bad. Most of the guests had gone and we were cleaning up the party 
space when someone’s daughter called to say we were under a tornado watch.  
iPhones were consulted and the ‘best spot in the building to ride it out’ was 
discussed, but before long, the wind seemed to lessen and the decision was made 
to make a run for it.  My sister lives about 2 miles from the venue, so we 
slogged through the flooded parking lot (did I mention that the venue was at the 
bottom of a hill?) up past our ankles (and wearing flip flops) to the cars, and 
began a slow-ish drive to her house.  The streets were already littered with 
small branches and the rain made it difficult to see the road, but we made it 
with very little trouble.  Dry clothes and a cluster of candles (just in case, 
though we didn’t need them) made us feel a bit more human, and we were finally 
able to relax.  The next morning was still wet, but we couldn’t see any major 
damage as we drove east towards the last show, so hopefully there wasn’t 
any.

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