Norah Jones: A Good Texas Girl
Watching the Grammys. Norah Jones won best pop album. Deservedly so.
Down in Port Aransas over the weekend, I was around a lot of good Texas girls, sun parched waitresses who call everyone darlin', fish store clerks who tell you when and where the fat pink Gulf shrimp you're eyeing were caught, and young Texas girls clerking at the Circle K with that fresh air and sunkissed natural beauty.
Port Aransas is not the world's prettiest beach, but it's a fine beach nonetheless. Smooth, soft sand and gentle waves breaking. They were warm enough to wade in, so I did. Fat old gulls walked the beach, too old to fly much, but still proud enough to strut a little.
I saw pelicans with their bills filled with fish.
I saw ducks flying clumsily over the ferry.
Grass was starting to green. Bluebonnets were popping up. Spring is coming.
I ate some jumbo white shrimp, so fresh they were buttery sweet. All they needed was a quick boil and a little lemon. I made some huge bay scallops with ginger and lime. Tuna steaks of sashimi quality, splashed with a little teriyaki and broiled. Such protein bliss.
And for 72 hours there was no TV, no radio and no computer. No war, no budget, no Bush, no worries.
Nothing but blue skies, salty wind over the waves and sun just barely kissing my face.
I think God might have a condo in Port Aransas, with his stereo playing Norah Jones.