Home sweet Houston

I've been back in town for a week, and I am totally feeling the Houston love. Sunday evening we had a few friends over. I baked cookies, CM made blargaritas, and we sent everyone home with bags and crates full of our stuff. It was a great (and productive!) night, and when we closed the door on the last of our guests, I think we both realized at the same time just how much we are going to miss living here.

It took a long time for me to feel at home in Houston. My first year was rough beyond belief, and nothing but the job brought me back for the second. But as the years went by, I have come to truly love this city, and that's mostly because of CameraMan and the incredible circle of friends we have built here. I've been here since 2005; that's the longest I've lived anywhere since I graduated high school. For all intents and purposes, Houston is my home, a home I will be leaving in a little over a month. And although I'll return for the fall, it won't be the same. We will have already made the big move, I'll be back to living in a generic corporate apartment—I think it's going to feel like I'm visiting.

So, in the meantime, we're trying to make the most of the time we have left in Houston, and trying not to get so overwhelmed by our to-do list that we miss out on the good things. We've started a list, dominated of course by all the things we want to eat one more time: fried chicken at The Daily Review, churros at Hugo's, frozen lemonade from Bambolino's, happy hour at T'afia. We're visiting all our favorite H-town haunts: the Zoo (of course), Discovery Green, the Menil, and more. Mostly, though, we're trying to spend as much time with our friends as we can. Meals with colleagues are being organized, impromptu dinner invitations are highly encouraged, and I'm spending lots of quality time with Shelby (she's almost 1, can you believe it!).

After a year like this one, with so much time apart, we're also just reveling in the two of us being in one place. For me, Houston will always be OUR city, even though I lived here for several years before we got together, and he lived here for several more before that. I feel like I discovered the city for the first time with him, and when we move away we'll be leaving behind part of the history of us. Luckily, if "home is where the storage unit is," then Houston will be our home for a while longer.

Besides all the fun stuff, there are practical perks to finally being home together. We've been talking about taking new head shots of me for months now, and we finally made the time to actually go out and do it. I generally hate having my picture taken, because for every decent shot there are dozens of me looking awkward, bug-eyed, or just plain ugly. Thank goodness for my incredible CameraMan, who finds the best light, keeps up the encouraging pep talk, and knows all the ins and outs of photo editing. I'm so happy with the pictures we ended up with, are you?

140/365

We spent our last night in Houston taking in an Astros game, and wonder of wonders, they WON! No amount of pow-wows on the pitcher's mound could save the poor Brewers.

Filing a complaint

Dear Weather Gods,

It may seem like hubris to complain about the weather here in Houston when Mom and Pop Bossy have been snowed in all week in Oregon and the upper Midwest is getting some kind of blizzard tonight, but still, I have to ask…what the hell are you doing up there?

Twice in as many weeks we've been forced to turn on both the heat and the air conditioning on the same day. We've flip-flopped from 78° highs to 30° lows. As I write this, the humidity is 93% and I'm sweating in my short-sleeved shirt. A few days ago, I was wearing my new Thinsulate-lined coat and wishing I'd brought my earmuffs. I've been looking forward to ice skating in Discovery Green since it opened, but when we went there Wednesday evening, the fog was so dense it made my jacket wet and there were puddles of water on the ice. Instead of skating, we went inside for mojitos.

And I assume it's no coincidence that it snowed in Houston for the first time in four years on the one night we were out of town in Dallas, and then snowed in Las Vegas in the heaviest snowfall since ’79 less than a week before we arrive there. I wasn't even dreaming of a white Christmas, but I still don't like being taunted with it. If this is your idea of a joke, I can tell you one thing.

I'm not laughing.

Sincerely,
Humid in Houston

The new downtown

Yellow police tape festoons the streets.
Everywhere you look: Do Not Cross.
Ornamental trees are down or disappeared,
replaced by mounds of dirt spilling onto the sidewalks.
Broken glass glints on the ground,
something else to sidestep as we wait for nonexistent Walk signs.
Men in hard hats leaning out of skyscraper windows,
more plywood every time you go outside.
Lunch spots are busy like they always are,
but the table conversations are different.
Cell phone cameras are working overtime,
people craning their necks to see the tower.

Back to work.
Under-eye bags from sleepless nights, air-dried hair.
Everyone is hugging and swapping war stories:
tales of collapsed roofs, fallen trees, and lightning strikes,
narrow misses and near escapes.
"At least no one was hurt."
The conference room overflows with meetings,
discussing schedules and costs and how to help each other.
We take extra care to stop in every office, to talk to every colleague.

Driving home through ghost-town blocks with phantom street lights.
Past bustling restaurants and muted laughter.
Past flickering candles in windows and people talking on their porches.
Home to my cocoon of light and TV and normalcy and love.

Business as unusual.

Slideshow: Yikes Ike

You can see them bigger and in more detail on Flickr.

Lucky me

Late in the summer of 1991, Hurricane Bob hit my hometown of Westerly, Rhode Island. I don't remember a lot about it. What I remember is watching Papa Bossy tape up the windows and gather water and flashlights, having a slumber party in the living room with my parents while the wind rattled the windows, and climbing around on a giant fallen tree limb the next day.

Hurricane Ike wasn't all that different. We bought water, batteries, and peanut butter, and moved everything away from the windows. We had a slumber party at BritBossMan's house, trying to sleep through the massive wind gusts and thunder claps. We surveyed the damage this afternoon after everything had died down. We also had several exciting incidents: we cut down 2 small trees so they didn't fall on the house (and when I say we I mean that I held the flashlight), and a few hours later we watched as BBM Swiffered the roof to stop a leak (seriously).

My memories of Ike will be quite different, though (and this has all to do with being 26 and not 9). This time, I actually understood what was at stake, what the potential damage could be. It wasn't just a grand adventure (although it was that); I was scared. Today as we drove past dozens of downed trees (some of which had fallen on houses), piles of debris, pulverized fences, downed power lines, and dangling street lights (pictures to come, I promise), I got more and more worried about what we would find when we got back to CameraMan's apartment and my car.

Turns out, we had power. And no damage. This in a small apartment complex where many apartments have no power, extensive water damage, and in some cases, collapsed roofs. I'm feeling incredibly lucky.

Lucky to have people in my life willing to take me in without a second thought, and all the many friends and family members who have checked in via phone, text message, and email.

Lucky to have a cat who can endure anything. In about 24 hours, the Bossy Cat moved 3 times, and despite having to spend most of that time apart from me (Mrs. BBM is allergic), she is now happily curled up on the couch. It's quite possible she's forgotten it even happend.

Lucky to have someone to clutch in the middle of the night when the sounds from outside were too scary. I was so happy to have CameraMan by my side.

Lucky for power generators. I spent my morning watching hurricane coverage on TV. And being served waffles for breakfast. Heaven.

Lucky to have chosen to "hunker down" with stage managers and techies. Did I mention the sawing down of trees and magical Swiffer use? Amazing.

Lucky to be in the 5% of Houstonians with power. How did that happen?

Lucky that BBM sent us home with 2 steaks. Wrapped in bacon. Add mac & cheese and a bottle of Malbec, and you've got a better dinner than we usually eat when there isn't a hurricane.

Thank you all for your thoughts and well wishes. I am one lucky girl.

Hurrication

I don't know if you've heard, but there's a hurricane heading directly for Houston. His name is Ike. We are no longer merely in the "cone of possibility"; at the moment it seems we will be directly in the line of fire. We closed the opera offices at noon today, after a morning of being completely unable to focus on anything other than the hurricane (if you happen to also be obsessed with tracking Ike, I highly recommend this website to suck your time). There will be no work Friday, no work Saturday, no work Sunday. You know what that means… hurrication.

Now, I don't want you to think that I don't take hurricanes seriously. I am fully aware of all the people who lose their homes, their possessions, and their lives as a direct result of hurricanes. I am crossing my fingers that Ike doesn't do any more damage than he already has (he was a real bastard in Haiti). And I'm also taking the threat to Houston as a real problem. CameraMan, the Bossy Cat, and I are planning to "hunker down" at Little Ms. Hardcore's apartment, which just happens to be above the garage of BritBossMan, who just happens to have a generator. So when the power goes out, and all the neighbors are reduced to roasting weenies on sticks in the fireplace? We'll be watching it on TV.

While I was at work this morning, CM picked up some supplies. He fueled up his car, stocked up on water and candles, and, best of all, bought a Wii. No, you won't find it on any emergency preparation list, and it sure won't do us any good in a power outage, but it's quite possible that it's the most fun way to spend the many hours stuck inside (well, almost). Already we have foregone going to the gym today (it's probably closed, anyway) in favor of playing virtual tennis, golf, bowling, and an incredibly addictive/frustrating driving game. Even while I write this, CM is in front of me feinting left and right, throwing killer punches, and shouting curses that would make you blush—he's boxing, of course.

So, as you watch the news, and Houston and our archnemesis Ike are splashed across the headlines, don't worry about Little Ms. Bossy. She's being taken care of by her friends and her CameraMan, staying safe, being smart…and getting her virtual a** kicked.

All I really need to know I learned…at the Art Car Parade

I've been slow to post about the Art Car Parade, not for the reason I usually don't post (laziness, pure and simple), but because this week is Refuge week. Again. We're doing the whole show again out at the Miller Outdoor Theatre. The New Oregonian is already busy at her summer job (where it just snowed!), so I get to play at directing for the week. Rehearsals and emails and paperwork for Refuge plus actor auditions for a project next season equal no time for blogging. And, FYI, if you try to post a comment pressuring me to blog more, your comment will be summarily rejected. Only I get to be bossy on this blog. Start your own. I'm pretty sure littlemsbossydoesntblogenough.blogspot.com is available.

The parade was incredible. And awesome. And excruciatingly hot. But not as hot as last year, and better than last year because the opera had a car this year, and she was bee-yoo-tiful!



Here's what I learned from the day:

• The SPF in facial moisturizer is not enough when you're sweating your face off. Unless you're entering some kind of Rudolph look-alike contest, that is, in which case it's the perfect amount. Apparently.


• If you take a car and paint a couple things on it haphazardly and drive it in the Art Car Parade, Houstonians will still cheer for you as if you were driving an actual Art Car. I'm so happy I live in a town that applauds half-a**ed creativity.


• Bad moods can be cured with frozen lemonade. I've tested this theory twice since Saturday, and it has held true so far.


• Houston ants bite. I can prove it.



• I'm not very good at it, but sometimes saying "no" is definitely the right choice (maybe I need to practice more). The Valkyries who rollerskated with the opera car looked incredible (incredibly hardcore, that is), but I didn't wish I was one of them, not even for a moment. I was happy to be on the sidelines with my camera and my CameraMan. Especially while we were drinking frozen lemonade.


• I could do a lot worse than to have Houston as my adopted hometown. Quirky, creative, and utterly unique, Houston and Houstonians are starting to feel like home to me.


• Sometimes hard work and ingenuity actually pay off. 600+ hours of labor, a brilliant design, a baritone singing his face off, and the gorgeous ladies of stage management as skating Valkyries—OF COURSE our car won 1st place!!!

When in Texas…

If you've never been here, you probably have all kinds of ideas about Texas. Admit it, you're picturing everyone in cowboy hats and boots, hooking their thumbs into belts that feature enormous silver buckles and spitting tobacco juice on the ground. You're hoping to see women with big Texas hair and men wearing far too much denim, all speaking with a thick drawl and using phrases like "howdy, pard'ner" and "knee-high to a grasshopper" and "chicks and ducks and geese better scurry." It's certainly what I expected when I moved here, but in the 2 1/2 years I've lived here, I've never experienced that side of Texas.

Until yesterday, that is, when I spent 8 hours at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo. Folks, you have never seen anything like it (I know this is true, because I still don't have any readers in Montana). For most of the day (until the poseurs showed up just to hear Faith Hill sing), CameraMan and I were the only people wearing sneakers. I seriously would have walked right into one of the many booths selling cowboy boots and bought a pair just to fit in…you know, if they didn't cost $200.

It was such a full day that I'm having trouble processing it all. We did so much. We ate beignets doused in powdered sugar, brisket doused in barbecue sauce, and candied almonds from a stand inexplicably named The Nutty Bavarian. We paid far too much for beer. We walked around inside and looked at booths selling all manner of cowboy/girl essentials such as chaps, tractors, massage chairs (and after watching the actual rodeo I understand why those are necessary), and just about anything you could possibly want with fringe on it. We strolled down many aisles of cattle and horses and pretended to be interested in them. We entered the petting zoo although we were not with children (or children ourselves, obvs). I petted a deer (a dead ringer for Bambi), some very small goats, a sheep, a bunny, and a piglet that was less than a day old. After CameraMan had to drag me bodily from the petting zoo, where I would have happily stayed all day long, we went to the horse show (booooring but impressive), and then to one of the real highlights of the day, the pig races. The pig races are pretty much exactly what they sound like: pigs racing. Around a very small track. At breakneck speeds (for the most part). With ridiculous pig-themed names like "Barack-o-ribs Obama" and "Arnold Schwarzenhogger." Hilarious, I tell you. Hilarious.

And we hadn't even gotten to the actual rodeo yet. 2 hours of pure calf ropin', steer wrestlin', barrel racin', buckin' bronco ridin' good times. It felt like we were visiting a foreign country, which I imagine is what first-timers must feel like at opening night of the opera, what with all the special lingo, parties you're not invited to, and people you've never heard of being treated like big big stars. Except that the opera doesn't usually start out with the lights dimming down for a prayer in which God is thanked for "rodeo fellowship," among other things. And at the opera (on a good night) nobody gets their jaw broken by a steer horn and then keeps riding in what is evidently a show of "heart." And, unfortunately, at the opera there is no constant commentary to educate the rookies on what's going on. I'd kind of like to hear that, actually.

The day was capped off with a kick-a** concert by Faith Hill. Damn, that gurl can sang! And she's raht purty, too. Ahem. We enjoyed it immensely.

I'm so glad I went and saw that side of Texas, the one that fulfills all those stereotypes.

Although, to be fair, I walked around all day long wearing a t-shirt that read "Democrats have more fun," and nobody shot me.

So maybe not all the stereotypes.