WIN! WIN! WIN!

By Jody Worsham, co-author “Kin We’re Not Related To”

All rights reserved for bigger, taller, wider, heavier trophies

Our state song says it all:

“Texas, our Texas, all hail the mighty state!  Texas, our Texas so wonderful so great!                   Boldest and grandest, withstanding ev'ry test.  Oh Empire wide and glorious, you stand supremely blest."

Now you might think it was a sad day when Alaska joined the union and became the assumed largest state, but Texans just claimed that when all that ice and snow melts, Texas will still be the biggest state.

Texans are by nature the most competitive people on earth.  Whatever it is, we have to be the best, the biggest, the tallest. the smartest, the cutest, and the fastest.

 I was born and raised a Texan so I am competitive to the bone.  Get a room full of Texans and a contest, well, what can I say.  This past week has been highly competitive.  I made a quilt for the school's Fall Festival.  Rather than raffle off the quilt, the school decided to hold an auction for the quilt.  Now I had spent six months hand quilting that thing and as soon as the auctioneer asked for an opening bid, up came my hand.   Then another Texan raised my bid, and my husband raised that bid.  Well, not to be outdone I raised his bid. 

"Jody, you're bidding against me," Dr. Hubby said.
"That's ok, it's your money.  You can afford it."
"Not at this rate” and he hustled me out of bidding range.  I heard the quilt went for a high price, but it would have gone higher if Dr. Hubby had just let me stay in the bidding.

Then there was the Fall Festival Children's Costume Contest.  No prize, just a First Place 8  1/2 x 11 Xeroxed certificate...in color.  The thirteen-year-old flat refused to wear anything I created.

"Mama, I have to go to school here.  I see these people every day.  You really expect me to go as 'Miss Recycle' and wear a costume made out of trash?   Pleeeeeease don't ruin the rest of my life!"  as if I had ever done anything to ruin any part of her life... past, present, or future.

Ok, she is thirteen...and taller than me...and I would have to raid a couple of dumpsters for the necessary recyclable material.  On the other hand, the nine-year-old is shorter....

"Look boy, just do what she says.  You might as well learn now; it is easier to give in then to argue with a woman, especially one born and raised in Texas her whole life. You are not going to win," said the wise and experienced Dr. Hubby to the panicked nine-year-old.

"You only have to wear the costume for five minutes.  Just long enough for the judges to be suitably impressed. " I blatantly did not lie, just stretched the truth a little.

"Ok, but can I at least be a zombie?"

"Sure." My brain neurons began firing like tinfoil in a microwave. 

I skillfully sprayed two empty two liter sized Dr. Pepper bottles and a swim mask with gray paint. I found a gray painters head stocking I had been saving for just such an occasion. I cut the straps off a back pack (oops sorry, did you need that for school?) removed the vacuum cleaner hose from Dr. Hubby's shop vac (you never really cleaned your shop anyway)  hot glued part of a semi-broken flashlight to the vacuum hose, and made some swim fins out of construction paper.  I guess you don't mess with a man's chain saw covers.  They were too heavy anyway.

I hot glued some dead leaves and twigs to the mask and glued the "air tanks" to a piece of cardboard.  Then I slapped some white baby powder on the nine-year-old's face and Wah-la!  Scuba Zombie! 

And yes First Place Funniest Costume.  And yes, therapy will be required.

Next, Atwood's Pet Costume Contest.  Let the Competition Continue!!