At about six tonight I decided to call my Grandma Pauline in Katy, just to say hi and that I loved her and that I hoped the hatches stay well battened down. Hello, newcomers, did you know I love Houston and about a third of my most dearly beloveds still live there? It’s true; catch up, will you.
Anyway, I called the number I had in my cell phone, and it went to voice mail and a woman spoke, saying, “hi, you’ve reached Dee,” etc etc. And I thought, well, she doesn’t sound much like Grandma, well, a little right THERE, and sometimes my Grandma goes by DeeDee so I thought why not, and left a message saying I loved her and hoped they were all safe and sound. (They being my extended fake Texan family of Grandma and her four grown sons and passel of grand- and greatgrand-children.)
About twenty minutes later my phone rang and I saw a (281) number so I answered and said hello, and this nice woman named Dee said hello, and had I called for my grandma? I said yes and she explained that she was pretty sure she didn’t have a granddaughter named Christina so had I gotten the wrong number?
She also went on to ask where my grandma lives and oh, she’s in Katy? Well, this Dee is in Katy too, and she thinks they’ll be fine and won’t have much damage if any. She told me her husband was in Iraq and worrying about her, and she assured me that my grandma would be fine. She also said she’d go ahead and pray for her anyway, and I thanked her before my Yankee voice got too choked up to do so.
And that’s pretty much why I miss Texas sometimes. And also why I’m obsessively refreshing the Chron’s science blog for news from my new favorite blogger, Eric Berger.
And crossing my fingers and yeah, praying, for everyone I love in Houston to make it through the night with unbroken windows and unflooded homes.

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