Isaac

Almost exactly four years ago, my husband and I evacuated from New Orleans, in order to get away from Hurricane Gustav.  Residents of the Gulf Coast accept hurricanes as part of life; since I had never evacuated before, and didn't know the first thing about hurricanes, I found it scary.  Instead of packing, I wrote about what I should be packing.

When Katrina hit a few years before that, I still lived in Minnesota.  Up there, I know that I was not alone in wondering why more people hadn't evacuated, but when faced with an evacuation myself, I began to understand it better.  Now, I believe that most people, when faced with a significant threat to their home and possessions, would feel tempted to stay home, where they are most comfortable and also where they can see exactly what happens.  Not only is evacuating an unexpected travel expense, but it is also packing as an extreme sport, not just requiring selection of garments, but instead necessitating that favored garments be pitted in the competition for space against favorite photos, important papers, and family heirlooms.  Especially maddening is the unpredictability of hurricanes; you can feel a little silly for packing up the family silver and driving to your cousin's house, only to find your house perfectly snug and intact when you get back.

Coming Soon: Third Coast Stitch Lab

Michael Pollan Diet

Like many women I know, I am trying to get back into a pair of pants.  Congratulations to those of you out there who are happily wearing their skinny pants from back in the day.  In the meantime, the rest of us try to make sense of competing nutrition information while simultaneously working to reform bad habits, and maybe while we secretly wonder if we shouldn't just screw the pants and eat the brownie.

Sign of the Times

Neighborhood Limes

The house that we're buying is only three blocks away from the townhouse that we are currently renting.  Also, it is empty while renovations are being completed.  As a result, I have become a stalker.  Luckily the seller/builder completely understands, and is on board with me visiting, taking measurements, and generally being around.

I have started thinking more about this idea of 'neighbor' now that we are committed...will we have nice neighbors?  Fun ones?  Mean or crazy ones?  Who knows.  In this old neighborhood, as in many big cities, homes are nearly on top of one another and the result is lots and lots of fences.  Our fence is tall, giving us the illusion of privacy, even though technically people are all around us.

Pursue Happiness

A program on the radio that I've listened to recently featured several TED presentations related to happiness.  One of the speakers, Barry Schwartz, concluded that "the secret to happiness is lowering expectations."  Not a romantic notion, but difficult to refute, as I happily snuggle further into a city that I thought I would hate.  Another speaker featured on that same program  concluded that too much choice increases dissatisfaction and also increases paralysis.  My husband and I can support this theory; while we have long appreciated options presented by his work, we have also suspected that the buffet of possibilities before us made our heads spin and sometimes threw up distraction barriers as we labored to make a more definitive life plan.

However, whatever the methodology, I am thrilled to report happiness.  Inside my gut, bubbling in my heart, leaking out onto my face regularly.  We have made lists, done comparisons, laughed and cried and imagined, and finally, decided not to move home to Minnesota.  Decided to remain here, in Houston, in order to prevent having to be separated while he is at work.  Making a hard decision like that was tricky enough, but the the truth is that my effervescent fountain of happy welled up from what followed, as we certified the first decision with a concrete second one: I fell in love with, and we are in the process of buying, my first house.

Confession

Confession: Last week, in the grocery store check-out line, I purchased my second issue of Garden & Gun.

To be clear, my position on guns has not changed.  I understand guns for hunting, and I can support that, with sufficient regulation.  The idea that guns should not be traceable is ridiculous.  Guns for non-hunting civilian pleasure are a recipe for mayhem, and Americans are not proving worthy of the responsibility.

However, Garden & Gun is good.  It feels similar to my favorite Twin Cities publication, Metro Magazine.  It is a fresh and hip report of southern food and lifestyle, and is proving to be a handy resource.  Aside from advertisements, articles about guns are far outnumbered compared to lifestyle, food, and culture articles.  The only reason I haven't yet subscribed is that we are still in the throes of finalizing next year's address.  Stay tuned.

Wedding Dress Recycle, v.2

August is My New February

I have so far treated Houston cordially and with respect.  I have not yet unleased a torrent of insults on the place that I thought I would hate more than all of  the others.  My sunny reflections on this tropical petri dish have confused a few people close to me, who have remarked upon their curiosity to get to know my Houston.  So I realize that it might be time for the gloves to come off...I don't want to lead anyone astray.  In short, it's pretty good, but mostly because it's not terrible.  I'm strangely content here, but the honest truth is that I'm not completely sure why.