Since I’m still getting used to blogging, I’d like to just write one about what I did over the weekend. More of a journal type entry. I will do a part II to the cancer blog, but I’m not ready for it yet. Any and all critisism is welcomed since I’m still learning my writing style and slowly improving my writing skills.
Friday, I got off from work at 3pm, like most Fridays. I went to visit Giuseppe at his nursing home in the medical center. This time, I walked in alone, knowing the drill. He was asleep in his bed. I was told that if he’s asleep, it’s okay to wake him since he would want to know he had a visitor. I touched his shoulder and he opened his eyes; I could tell he was very tired. He wanted to sit up but the buttons to his bed weren’t working. I called for a nurse, come to find out, the bed wasn’t plugged in. It seemed as though he was watching TV but he was in a daze. I asked him if he likes Oprah, but he didn’t understand and said, “Italy.” I was told his wife doesn’t speak English but apparently, it’s Giuseppe who doesn’t speak much English. We sat together quietly. I observed him not being able to get comfortable, moving his bed almost every 5 minutes. Sitting up, laying down, trying to pull himself up. I did try to help move him, but to no avail. I looked around at pictures of his past, when he was younger, taking trips with his wife and his boys. He had so much life in his eyes and now his body is deteriorating and becoming a disablement. I knew volunteering with hospice would be a difficult feat, but it’s just now hitting me.
After a little rest time at home, I picked up my little sister, Cynthia–from the Big Brother, Big Sister program–at her mom’s Creekbend apartment. She’s been my little for about 6 months now, we’re still getting to know each other but we are finally feeling more comfortable talking to one another. Especially her, it took her a while to come out of her shell. She was extremely quiet for the first 4 months and I had to pry and prod to get her to tell me anything. We talk about almost anything now: friends, family, boys, school, every day life. We had discussed going rock climbing since we didn’t get the chance last time, but ended up going to get a quick bite then to the movies. She picked “Super 8.” She’s 13 so I can take her to movies up to PG-13 rating. The movie was cute, a modern-day “Goonies.”
Saturday morning, I met with a friend for zumba class. For the first time ever, both instructors were in class. They took turns showing their moves. This was the most intense zumba class I’ve ever taken; it was like a dance off. Most of the songs were fast paced and pushed us to our limit. The class was exhausted but loved the 
energy that these two teachers were giving off. After my friend and I showered and cooled off, what else could we do but get a big, hearty burger? We headed down to a local Houston burger joint, Lankford Grocery. Plenty of people say this is the best burger in Houston and I agree. It’s a burger just like your dad used to make–but better! I recommend the sweet potato fries over the regular ones. Good luck finding a table; there isn’t always one available. And don’t expect five-star restaurant service, this is just your good-old southern burger dive.
Which brings me to Saturday afternoon–the inaugural Houston Beer Fest! My wonderful sister got our tickets, plus 10 drink tickets for only $10 each. Even though it was swealtering and it took about an hour to get through the line–it was well worth it. As soon 
as we walked in, we wanted to try Hoegaarden–yes, just because of the name. Only a few hours into the festival, they were out! So we tried Stella and another beer at the same booth. My sister and I would try to get different beers so we could try as many as possible. We walked around to soak in the atmosphere, there were plenty of vendors and large crowds everywhere. I wanted to try No Label Brewing Co. since the owner graduated from the University of Houston. The beer I chose, Pale Horse, was decent, but El Jefe was better.
As we were trying to find a place to hang out, this guy swings his hand behind him, hits my beer and it falls over me. I was pissed! I told him owed me a beer. He took out 4 tickets and handed them to me. I skipped the line, told them what happened and showed them my 
shirt for proof. I got my beer and I was a happy girl again.
The lines were long but the beer was flowing. People were trying to cut lines, but as long as you told them, “The line starts back there,” they gave you a dirty face–but they moved. We had a guy who tried to cut in line and almost started a fight with someone. Later he shouted to me, “I know you remember me!”
“Remember you? Am I supposed to?”
“Yeah! I’m the douche that cut in front of you.”
“Oh right, you’re THAT douche.” Not something to be proud of guy!
So even though there were massive lines, people were in good spirits. Hello, they were 
getting drunk! There were two music stages: the main stage mostly had cover bands, except for one horrible metal band. The side stage had local artists like “The Nice Guys” and ended on a high note with the block party–I’m hoping there’s no random pictures of me that show up. What can I say, I like to dance! At least I won’t be the girl on YouTube dancing in the fountain and having her top fall off. (If anyone finds that video, you MUST share. It was hilarious!)
Towards the end, vendors started to run out of beer. Almost all of the booths were empty. People were trying to sell their drink tickets that were worth practically nothing. We found one table who still had beer left: Bud Light. But it was BYOC, bring your own cup. My sister and I found a couple cups, then I convinced another guy to give up one of his extras. Two more drinks down and we were buzzed, talking to random people and just enjoying ourselves.
People are saying the Beer Fest wasn’t organized, but honestly, when is something in Houston ever organized and on schedule? Almost never! It was the first year and no, they weren’t prepared. But Houston, we need to support these events so that they will come
back next year, bigger and better! I’m tired of other cities getting all the rep, when we’re a better city but everyone chooses to talk trash instead of back Houston.
If you know of any upcoming Houston events, let me know!
to me. I’m sure the extreme heat didn’t help her dislike of putt-putt golf. It was one of those heat stricken days in Houston, literally over 100 degrees. We played up to the 15th hole where both our golf balls got stuck. My ball had gotten stuck in a previous hole, but Cynthia managed to dig it out for me. This time, we weren’t so lucky–or maybe we were–depends on how you think about it I guess. We took our golf clubs back to the desk and told them what happened. They didn’t seem too surprised. They offered for us to finish the game, but by that time we were so hot and sweaty that we were already through.
around the track, lap after lap. I eventually lost track of what lap we were on. More people started pouring on the racetrack. A father and his son, a group of girls. They let us keep riding, until we both ran out of gas simultaneously. Thank goodness it was near the exit; they pushed us back to the go-kart parking area. Cynthia had a huge grin on her face. I’m glad she enjoyed part of our trip. Maybe next time we’ll go to Track 21 or something; they have faster rides and a bigger track.
