Ain’t That America

My last post to this blog was in March, which is generally inexcusable, but I had very good reasons for putting it on hold. Those being the plethora of things in life which you are never able to put on hold, no matter how much you want to. There was moving home from Korea, my best friend’s wedding, then my (uh-hem, third) wedding to the same man within two years, then my mother’s heart surgery, my brother’s hospitalization, an endless stream of work I couldn’t keep up with, buying a car, sorting through two years of being away, saying hellos and farewells, then the road to Texas, and the weeks spent trying to job search from a 100 degree tent, which I can assure you, is even less pleasant than this run-on sentence.

But all that being said, I return to Wanderlust Logs with good tidings. The hubby and I have finally found gainful employment in the Great State of Texas. After exhausting every option in and around Austin, we realized maybe the universe wanted something different for us. So we took our search out into the small-town throes of The Lone Star State I like to call, “The Real Texas.” And the universe responded. As of last Friday we started our new lives in the lovely little town of Whitney in Hill County Texas; pop. 2087. Make that 2089.

Me 'n Little Yellow

After meeting with the wonderfully jovial and down-home principal of the school that hired Hudson on the spot, we headed to the one bar in town and clinked icy-cold, blue-mountained Coors Light cans in celebration. Next was finding a place to live in a town where it seemed no one ever moved. As luck would have it, someone had just turned in their keys today. A quaint, chrysanthemum yellow, A-frame house with two bedrooms, one bath, and a big ol’ yard, right in the middle of town would be available next week. After our 230 sq. ft apartment in Seoul, this was a veritable mansion. And the best part, it’s only $450 a month. Our big city budgets smiled as we said, ‘we’ll take it.’ And as we headed back down the farm-to-market road, the early evening sun had just began to glow orange as it pressed towards the distant, hay-bale-filled horizon. I looked at Hudson, turned up the local radio station and sang along to the most perfect American song that could have played by the most American songwriter I know: John Mellencamp.

“Oh, but ain’t that America for you and me.
Ain’t that America, something to see, baby.
Ain’t that America, home of the free, yeah.
Little pink houses. For you and me.”

Of course, I sang of little yellow houses instead.

And so here we are. With a big empty house and no furniture to speak of except our camping mattress pad and three coolers. Over the next few months I will be following our newest adventure: how to furnish a house when you are a broke backpacker that doesn’t like to own things.  Also on the blog: how to be a rural housewife in a town of 2,000. It’s gonna be an interesting ride!

looks done to me.

Side note: I’m going to be filing posts from our time here under “Expat Life.” This is because Texas is its own country and I am most certainly a foreigner here.

If you’re from a small town in Texas, leave me some love in the comments! I’d love to hear all about where you’re from and how great your high school’s football team is!