Saturday, June 18, 2011

The Turtle Creek Turtles

So, long story short, I’ve come to Dallas TX to assist my boyfriend’s mother (say that 10 times fast) with her pop-up store on Dragon Street (  For months, the plans continued to change around what was to be done with the show house furniture. Was it all destined to remain in San Francisco?  So, when it was finally decided that Dallas would be the location for her sale, of course, I was on top of the list to come and help (that and I was excited to return to Dallas).

It is now June 18, 2011—the first official day of the sale—and my 11th day on Turtle Creek. I’ve been to this particular location once before when Ryan (my boyfriend), Toby (our dog), and I drove from Rohnert Park, California to Turtle Creek in Dallas Texas to feed an empty house with furniture.  This particular trip is another story in itself—maybe one of which I will divulge on a different occasion.

As the opening day of the sale approached, I was assigned moving, cleaning and befriending all of our furniture.  Some would argue that I rather became frenemies with all of this outstanding furniture.  Morning after morning, I found myself waking up with bruises and various parts of my body plagued with soreness (I bet this was the case for many others working there as well).  The furniture always found a way to have the last word.  I guess I should have restarted my endeavors with Tony and the P90x before my trip.

After many hard days of work, I took a day and a half (with permission from the boss) to chill out with my boyfriend’s stepsister, Heather.  Heather, too, stood by my side for much of the befriending process of show-house furniture. She found that steaming curtains weren’t as glorious as she would have hoped—I don’t think dry cleaning will be in her future.

Heather has never been to Texas, so we took the time to explore. In between lunch at Celebrity Bakery and walking around in uber expensive stores that would destroy my bank account, Heather’s dad took us on a tour of all the slick neighborhoods in the Highland Park area.  These impressive lots of land were married to even more impressive houses.  I admit: I found these houses to be stunning: but, but, but, I also found myself wondering what could have been done with all the money poured down the throats of these houses.

The semi-thick air added to the 102degree weather as we found stopping points to go and take pictures.  The first stop was dedicated to turtles, but none were found amongst the fat-ass lily pads. Nonetheless, pictures of lily pads were taken. The Turtle Creek Turtles found it too hot to come and play—but the Teddy Bears didn’t.  Large cement teddy bears sat along the far side of the pond welcoming children (or adults—in my case) to wander onto a stranger’s property.  A small sign sat near these bears sharing their birth year—1995. I had no interest in taking pictures of a Jurassic-sized teddy bear—but I did. I even took more than one. I could only imagine what the turtles were thinking.


After returning to the car, bathed in my own sweat, we drove to another location where we could climb into a creek and snap some more memories.  Heather’s dad wandered the path for a few short minutes before he climbed the hill to a bridge.  We discovered a drain connected to this shallow creek that housed burnt coffee cups, towels and Keystone light. Heather and Iboth made brief homes for ourselves—not in the storm drain—but on the small path others have trailed before us.

 I was home. I was comfortable. I felt as if I was back in Pikeville, Kentucky.  The trees, overgrown, shadowed the creek timidly as the heat bounced off the limestone creating the perfect nesting grounds for tadpoles. There was an instant comfort in the insect noise echoing through the brush, and even with the scorching heat, I could have sat there for hours. I remembered chasing minnows and crawfish in our pond and I craved to do the same. Playing in water has always brought a calming presence on my soul; but, the Turtle Creek Turtle can hold it’s breath longer, so the heat can be more bearable.
Heather Taking Photo of Rock
My Photo of Rock

Bridge of Retreat

Tadpoles Baking

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