Stroller Walking

The sidewalks of Houston are a study in extreme disrepair.  They are broken, multi-level, interrupted, sometimes non-existent, often blocked by vehicles, frequently encroached on by rowdy plant matter, and definitely not wheelchair or stroller-friendly.  As a result, I expected to grow extremely annoyed with my neighborhood while walking with the stroller.  The opposite has happened; I have grown more fond of this area as our daily walks have caused me to notice more features which have further endeared it to me.  Also I feel gratitude for the sturdy construction of our stroller.

I discovered, and later visited, a museum of print history.  It is on a side street and in an unassuming building that I almost didn't notice when I initially passed by.  Eventually it turned out to be a pleasant and stroller-friendly activity while my mom was visiting for the weekend.  It was especially excellent that there was a food truck out front and we were pleased with said truck's offerings.

W(h)ine To Go

Our son is just over three weeks old now, which I find a little shocking in light of the fact that we haven't yet reached his due date.  The learning curve has been steep and the emotions are intense.  A flood of love and affection, both for him and my husband, who is turning out to be quite the baby-whisperer, but also emotions that are not always positive...fear and worry...discomfort at the loss of my old familiar self and worry for the future of our son in such a messy world.  We are managing pretty well, I think, one day at a time.  Our son has been reasonably accommodating, in my opinion.  Considering that he is technically a preemie, he is eating well and sleeping pretty well and we feel lucky that he hasn't had any other health challenges.

I have had a handful of health challenges which have made newborn care slightly more trying, but the assistance of my husband and several friends has made a huge difference.  The conditions of our son's early delivery necessitated a Caesarean section for me, which kept us in the hospital for a full week when combined with the blood pressure complications that I experienced.  As a result, the last three weeks have involved juggling extra medicine, simultaneous mandates to rest more and pump more and feed more but sleep more, and a also ban on driving.  I feel foolish because I never knew that newborns eat every two or three hours (sometimes even more) and trying to learn how to function as a normal human at the same time as these other tricky things finally built up in a big pile and left me ornery yesterday.  It all would have been impossible without the full-time help of my husband, but still there was no denying that even with his excellent help, I woke up cantankerous.

Holiday Weekend

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.

A Texan's Right to Valet

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.

Inversion

I have mentioned in previous posts my efforts to look on the bright side more than I used to.  I have been lucky and life is good, and there is truly no reason for me to grumble about small matters.  My thoughts on moving to Houston are governed by this policy.  But, as I've also mentioned, there has been a bit of a life hangover lately. Definitely not an uncommon sensation after the holidays, although my case feels more move-related than holiday-related.  It takes considerable time and energy to find the people and resources that make one feel at home in a place, and I have been dragging.

However, yesterday morning, my sluggishness about what needs to get done, and my recent lukewarm feelings on Houston dissipated during a routine household errand.  I walked a few blocks from our place to pick up some espresso beans from a place a few blocks away.  There were some local fliers and newspapers, which I read while enjoying an excellent cappuccino and an almond croissant.  In the fliers, I found tidbits and news items which gave me some ideas about how to find more of what I'm looking for in Houston.

It sounds trivial, but it got me excited again.  I have been excited to come and be part of a vibrant, creative city ever since I left Minneapolis (again) in 2010.  My husband and I had heard that Houston was a concrete jungle, polluted and gross, sprawling and without personality.  Calgary had been gravely disappointing to me, not in those ways, but in the sense that it was a healthy city with a strong economy, and a fair amount of people, but it still somehow lacked creative energy and spirit.  So after that experience, and knowing that Luanda would also have been unlikely to make us feel part of an urban experience that we liked, we decided to look at Houston as an opportunity.  After all, as the fourth largest city in the country, it seemed that there must be some creative and progressive initiatives under way.

But my first month in Houston did not bear the foodie fruit or unveil the energetic local creative economy that I sought, and that I miss so much from Minneapolis.  We don't eat at restaurants as often as we used to, but when faced with a city like this, we love to find some places we like.  We have been to maybe a dozen restaurants in the immediate 5 mile radius around us, and not once have we eaten somewhere to which I can't wait to return.  At the end of the meals we've had we usually feel bloated and a little gross.  When I feel that way at the end of a meal, I am not compelled to go back, and I don't like to feel both guilty and unhealthy after what is supposed to be a relaxing treat.

So, yesterday morning, with my caffeine buzz in full force, I left the coffee house, ready to tackle annoying life tasks and to forge ahead with my Houston exploration.  Right next door to Inversion is an art supply store, and I need some paint for a project at home, so I stopped in.  It looks very plain on the outside, like a warehouse building, but on the inside it was inspiring.  It had a strong collection of fashion and textile books, along with all kind of other bits that made me want to run home and figure out how to make everything.  The staff was thorough and friendly, and I ended up wandering around there for over an hour.

Relieved and energized, I strolled home in the seventy-degree sunny weather and got myself back on track.  While the power of the internet for situating oneself in a new place cannot be denied, there is still some ground-level investigation that has to be done.  I was happy to have rediscovered my appetite for the hunt.

Holiday Service

The people I have encountered in Houston are so nice, and the service I have been receiving is above and beyond.  When my veterinarian provided me a ride home so I wouldn't have to bring my cat in a cab, I was astounded.  The following week it happened again at my neighborhood liquor store.  I walked there since it was only two blocks away.  But after I decided to buy more than I could carry, they insisted on driving me home instead of letting me go back to get my car. I was pleasantly flummoxed; it seemed that Houston might be the best-kept secret in the U.S.

There's No Walking in Houston

Houstonians, I am learning, don't walk, at least not as a common mode of transportation.  I had always heard this, but I thought maybe if we moved into a neighborhood where restaurants and shops were within easy walking distances (at least in the pleasant-temperature winter months), maybe then I would see some people on foot.