II’ll say one good thing about bad weather: it breeds good snugglers.
I was in my late teens and early 20s in the late 70s and early 80s when an economic downturn in those ugly Big Ten states sent the first wave of yankees scurrying into the ATX.
At first I was repulsed by their rusty cars, fish belly compexions, strange lexicon and annoying ability to be both rude and chipper at the same time.
Then I discovered their shy little daughters.
Texas girls like to be noticed, they like to seen, they like to be heard but they gots to be in the mood to be mussed up.
These little wall flowers from Ohio, Michigan, Pennsylvania and Illinois with their impractical sweaters liked to snuggle like pointy nosed puppies in a blue norther.
I tell you what. I buried deeply any reservations or misgivings I had those crazy assed foreigners with inability to taste salsa and their strange tales of White Castles and the Amish.
Some nights I buried them reservations so deep and so hard and so long it just about wore me out.
