I haven't been writing very much about Texas, which is strange for me. There is a lot of good material here, but I wasn't feeling it for a little while. I worry people will think that I stopped examining culture and our daily intersections with it; but fear not. On the matter of Houstonian daily life, I just went quiet, like a submarine. But I'm back at the surface now.
There is something that has struck me from day one here, and I'm told it is common practice in Texas. Almost everywhere you go, there is valet parking. Every restaurant, which in most cases means in every strip mall since that's where most of the restaurants are, even in every shopping area...I can't think of a place where you can't roll up to the front door and hand over your keys for a couple of bucks. There is usually a little handful of front row parking spots marked off with orange cones right in plain view of the entrance to said destination.
My husband and I find it hilarious because you can emerge from dinner in the curious position of standing directly in front of your car, but not being able to drive away in it because you gave your keys the the valet guy who is now nowhere to be seen. Where we are from, valet is only for the weak of spirit, or for when it is forty below and you are forced to wear special-occasion clothing that exposes your skin to the frigid air, or possibly for when you are faced with undeniable evidence that if you try to park your own car, you will have such a long walk to your destination that you will miss the engagement for which you were parking in the first place.
February 29, 2012
February 28, 2012
What About You?
My dad and I have been engaged in a dialogue over email lately that I appreciate very much. We have been reflecting on work, inspiration, motivation and attitude...topics we have never approached together. In his most recent message to me, after sharing some things that "keep him going", he asked me what keeps me going. That was a couple of weeks ago, and the question has been floating over my shoulder as I have gone on with my normal activities.
February 26, 2012
You're Over-thinking It: Babies
When I was still living in Canada, a friend of mine told me that she thinks I'm over-thinking babies. She is very direct, a quality which I appreciate, and she did not say it until after I mentioned that in spite of all of my lifelong, practical reasons for thinking that I probably wouldn't procreate, I've been occasionally having a fleeting, less logical, sure-of-course-why-wouldn't-we feeling about at least being open to it.
Here are things that scare me about it: the health ramifications of pregnancy, including the effect on my cluster headache condition; giving up much significant amounts of sleep for several of the ensuing years after the birth, how to educate a child, the fact that I don't like to play and that I'm terrible at being silly, the fact that I often fail to choose healthy food when feeling taxed or swamped in the middle of a long week, taking responsibility for a little person, never fitting back into my favorite clothes (I know that's kind of lame), saving enough money for our own future, along with hopefully providing backup security for said little person...the list is long.
Here are things that scare me about it: the health ramifications of pregnancy, including the effect on my cluster headache condition; giving up much significant amounts of sleep for several of the ensuing years after the birth, how to educate a child, the fact that I don't like to play and that I'm terrible at being silly, the fact that I often fail to choose healthy food when feeling taxed or swamped in the middle of a long week, taking responsibility for a little person, never fitting back into my favorite clothes (I know that's kind of lame), saving enough money for our own future, along with hopefully providing backup security for said little person...the list is long.
February 20, 2012
February 15, 2012
February 12, 2012
Project Mardi Gras
A few days ago we were invited to a Mardi Gras ball in New Orleans. Tuxes, ball gowns, Maroon Five, oh my.
As a general rule, I avoided Mardi Gras when we lived in New Orleans; I found the crowds overwhelming and the mess to be a less-than-flattering side of the city. However, it is a very sweet honor to be invited as a guest of a Krewe, and we are touched that our friends thought of us. I also recognize that sometimes we just need to get out in the mess and not worry so much about what it all means.
So, in the meantime, while trying to organize an outfit that I like without letting it hijack the finally-calm post-move budget, I have challenged myself to see if I can prepare something that can pass for a gown right here in my little sewing room. I have wavered back and forth on the wisdom of this, but the thought of spending money even at the affordable end of the ball gown spectrum irritates me; I have really, truly been making the effort to avoid disposable, single-usage clothing purchases. I have spent two afternoons shopping and not been thrilled even with the selection at higher price points. I have spent many hours online, and have ordered a dress I like which would have a longer life span, which kind of messes up the budget but would at least be worth it if it looks great on. I would also like to locate some vintage or second-hand options, but there are limited hours and a myriad of other tasks between now and our Friday afternoon departure time.
So for now, while I wait for that Dress B to arrive, I have set myself upon the task of attempting to sew Dress A.
As a general rule, I avoided Mardi Gras when we lived in New Orleans; I found the crowds overwhelming and the mess to be a less-than-flattering side of the city. However, it is a very sweet honor to be invited as a guest of a Krewe, and we are touched that our friends thought of us. I also recognize that sometimes we just need to get out in the mess and not worry so much about what it all means.
So, in the meantime, while trying to organize an outfit that I like without letting it hijack the finally-calm post-move budget, I have challenged myself to see if I can prepare something that can pass for a gown right here in my little sewing room. I have wavered back and forth on the wisdom of this, but the thought of spending money even at the affordable end of the ball gown spectrum irritates me; I have really, truly been making the effort to avoid disposable, single-usage clothing purchases. I have spent two afternoons shopping and not been thrilled even with the selection at higher price points. I have spent many hours online, and have ordered a dress I like which would have a longer life span, which kind of messes up the budget but would at least be worth it if it looks great on. I would also like to locate some vintage or second-hand options, but there are limited hours and a myriad of other tasks between now and our Friday afternoon departure time.
So for now, while I wait for that Dress B to arrive, I have set myself upon the task of attempting to sew Dress A.
February 07, 2012
Initials Nightie: Rough Draft
When I was in middle school, I discovered some blue cotton scrubs in my parents' closet and I adopted them as my pyjamas. They were soft and comfy and over the years they continued to be what I reached for when I look for sleepwear with high functionality. Sadly, they have now been worn and washed so many thousands of times that even though I still reach for them (over twenty years later), I've noticed that they have become transparent.
February 01, 2012
MWF Seeks Tribe
We are suddenly settled. It's not unexpected, since I did many things to make it happen. But still, after months of waiting and packing and driving and packing and flying and unpacking and calling and all of the things you do when you have to establish residency, we are here. Thump. Everything is in position; I should be feeling really, really good. The adrenaline is wearing off, and shades of grumpiness and ho-hum snuck in.
I'm out of sorts, but with little jurisdiction. Houston is fine; it continues to offer an easy, high-quality life. I've completed most of the annoying moving tasks, down to finding a new doctor and a new dentist. Even my driver's license came in the mail today. Except I don't feel good. I feel a little bit the way you do when you fly somewhere instead of driving; you don't necessarily have jet lag, but you have brain lag...you are surprised to find yourself in warm, sunny ___________ when only a few hours before you were shivering in ____________ .
Things are good on paper, but questions buzz and creep: How is it possible that we suddenly live in Texas? How long will we be here? Should we buy our place instead of renting it? Will I make lady friends here? Where are they, and how will I find them? Will we decide to have a baby even though we never thought we would? Will I try to start a company, or is sewing just a hobby? Would I be happier working for someone else and learning on the job? Will I ever solve the riddle of trying to be fashionable and still tread lightly on the planet? Is it really better to try to make and buy local?
I'm out of sorts, but with little jurisdiction. Houston is fine; it continues to offer an easy, high-quality life. I've completed most of the annoying moving tasks, down to finding a new doctor and a new dentist. Even my driver's license came in the mail today. Except I don't feel good. I feel a little bit the way you do when you fly somewhere instead of driving; you don't necessarily have jet lag, but you have brain lag...you are surprised to find yourself in warm, sunny ___________ when only a few hours before you were shivering in ____________ .
Things are good on paper, but questions buzz and creep: How is it possible that we suddenly live in Texas? How long will we be here? Should we buy our place instead of renting it? Will I make lady friends here? Where are they, and how will I find them? Will we decide to have a baby even though we never thought we would? Will I try to start a company, or is sewing just a hobby? Would I be happier working for someone else and learning on the job? Will I ever solve the riddle of trying to be fashionable and still tread lightly on the planet? Is it really better to try to make and buy local?
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