I don't get the weather in Texas.

So I'm now a tornado survivor. Ok, so the tornado touched down like eight miles from us, but it was still sort of scary. At least it was for me, this being my first experience staring down a tornado. I guess I didn't read the fine print, but this isn't what I thought I signed up for when I moved to Texas. And I'm not just talking about tornadoes. I mean, when I agreed to move here, part of the deal was that, in exchange for suffering through the summer heat, I was supposed to enjoy nice, balmy 50 to 70 degree winters. So what's with the "Arctic Blasts" where everything ices over and life shuts down? And what's up with snow the day before Easters? I grew up in Northeastern Washington state, less that 40 miles from the Canadian Border, eh! I can't remember it ever snowing in April, for crying out loud (cue slow motion shot of me shaking my fist at Mother Nature)!

So anyway, back to the tornadoes... So we were at our house painting and laying tile two days ago, when the tornado sirens started going off. We were listening to the radio, and heard that a tornado was headed in the general direction of our house and the house where Dave was staying with his grandma. I wanted to go be with Dave so that he and his grandma wouldn't have to die alone if anything happened. I was also trying to figure out how I could maintain some semblance of manliness while sucking my thumb in the fetal position under a mattress in the closet (because we all know that's how you avoid getting carried off by a twister.). Meanwhile, Barb and my father-in-law were just hanging out, cool as cucumbers, like it wasn't any big deal.

I guess it's just Texas' way of mocking me for being afraid of a li'l ol' tornado, the way I mocked Texas for completely shutting down over a li'l ol' freezing rain. I can just picture Texas, with a smug look on her face, saying, "how you like me now, Washington Boy???"

Grad School is Diggity Dope

I think most of the two of you who read my blog also read my wife's blog, and have probably read that I'm going to be starting grad school this fall. And any of you who know how long it took me to finish my bachelor's degree know that it might take me just a scoche under four years to finish the two-year MPA program. I guess that will give me time to fulfill at University of North Texas the unfulfilled dream I had at BYU: to use every men's restroom on campus. Hey, if you're gonna dream, dream BIG!

But I digress. You might be asking, "why an MPA?" It's a question I asked myself, too. When people ask me what I want to do with that degree, I tell them that I want to administer the public. Duh. What do you think someone with a master's degree in public administration does? When I finished my psychology degree at BYU, my ambition was to earn a Ph.D. in psychology and teach at a University somewhere. Now, the thought of five or six more years of school makes me vomit a little in my mouth.

I decided on an MPA because the training is most applicable in the public and non-profit sectors. I would like to end up in a human services-related government or non-profit agency, where, at least in theory, I can still have a positive, direct impact on people's lives. Really, though, when you cut through all the fluff, it boils down to one simple fact: I want to be the King of Town. If someone's got to decide how to spend my tax dollars it might as well be me. When I see you around, I'll be sure to thank you for your tax money that paid for my plasma TV.