You tell someone you’re from Houston and you hear, “Wow, it’s really hot there, right?”  Well yes, it’s Texas and on the Gulf of Mexico, almost hugging the tropics.  Houston is seriously hot and no it’s not pleasant.  I’m biased, but I also think it’s one of America’s great cities.  Sure our overindulgences are evident everywhere – on waistlines, shopping malls, and trucks, but also in spirit.  Houston’s a nice place where people say hi and wish you a good day.   You can afford a nice home and find good schools for your family.  There’s world class shopping and eating.  You can wear short sleeves as early as January when the East Coast is still covered in cashmere.  As much as I love Texas and Houston, for some reason I’ve yet to find my way back.

The moment I land at Intercontinental Airport, I always think and smile, “Home.”  Just to sweeten the deal, the bluebonnets are out in mass, greeting me with a welcome no other place in the world can give me.   Today I’m proud to be a Texan.

Today.  Today starts the leg of my trip that will have me most off kilter.  My mother and I are off to El Salvador for Holy Week and Easter.  This is a pilgrimage I’ve always wanted to do, so I’m looking forward to seeing the rituals still practiced throughout El Salvador.  There’s no five star luxury coming my way over the next week, but rather a time to reconnect with my extended family and hopefully coax my grandmother into telling me more about herself.   Let’s just hope the water to bathe in isn’t too cold.  My mother keeps telling me that “it’s very hot” right now.  Maybe everything will just cancel each other out.

A quick trip to New York sounded like a good idea back in November. In March, it still was, but also added a little frenzy and ferocious city browsing that has me a little wobbly today.

Theater Weekend: Two plays of widely different attitudes and perspectives. Promises, Promises opened Saturday night in previews and A View from the Bridge is closing in just a week. Both shows have **STAR** power (Sean Hayes, Kristin Chenoweth, Scarlett Johanssen, Liev Schrieber).  The shows were great, the audiences not so much. Along with America’s financial crisis, we have a manners crisis, too. Late arrivals, wrinkly wrappers, and talking all took away from the shows and their stories.  Broadway needs to start putting the New York back into their shows and asking people to shut up or get out.

In between all this theater viewing, Amy and I played a great game of left, right, straight. New York is the perfect gameboard with discoveries at every intersection. We started out at the Cooper Hewitt walking through the Design USA exhibit I missed due to excessive sulking on Friday.  We stole peripheral glances at Phoebe Cates as we browsed through her beautiful store on the Upper East Side. A delicious, warm soup combated the ridiculously cold day in Chinatown. Only one more thing to complete our day: Pomme Frites!

Many years ago, my brother and I became obsessed with the singular item food shops in New York.  We have spent hours trouncing around New York in search of places that entirely focus their efforts on making one thing perfect. But one place always eluded us: Pomme Frites – the re-creation of a Belgian frites stand in the heart of NYC. For some reason, we never made it to St. Marks Place.

This time however, I could orient our entire day around those yummy, hopefully delicious frites. But how to get to our real, true destination? Left, right, or straight! Amy and I walked through the Lower East Side and into the East Village until we got there.  There was a line out the door, but it gave us time to decide which sauces. We eventually decided to go plain and simple: frites mayo and curry ketchup. We then made the best decision of our entire trip by asking the guy to squirt our sauces directly on the fries. It was like asking for the In-n-Out burger animal style. We had found the secret code of Pomme Frites. We ended up with frites layered with sauces layered with more frites. It was awesome. While we chowed down and tried not to make a mess, our fellow frites lovers stared in astonishment over our booty. So whatever you do folks, don’t ask for the sauce on the side. Tell the man to drown your frites in sauce.

If you’ve been friends with me for any period of time, you know that I’m not always the most punctual. I am almost never grossly late to things, but usually a good 10 – 15 minutes behind.  Sometimes more.

Regardless of where I’m going, could be a normal workday or a friend’s party, I wait until the last possible moment to get ready. I know the minimum amount of time for me to get ready and out of the house. The problem with this method is the assumption that everything will flow smoothly: my clothes, hair, keys, etc.  It also does not factor, that I love to cram in just a few more things before I leave.

This morning started out okay.  I needed to leave by 9:30 to make the 10am Acela to New York. (Okay, so I didn’t know you had to be like 15 minutes early now.) All was going well until I started looking for my red wallet. And then I wondered whether I had the right jacket (I don’t; it’s cold).  Finally, I really didn’t think about traffic or that I always get lost on the way to Union Station. (Yes, I’ve lived in DC 10 years.  Sue me.)  I missed the train.

I was so bummed and disappointed. My plan was to meet Kate for lunch then head to the design exhibit at the Cooper Hewitt. Neither happened. Instead after the frenzy of getting to the train station and then switching to the later train, we came to a grinding halt in Baltimore. My original train broke down and those passengers ended up on my new train.  All that anxiety and frenzy was for naught.  Only problem is that other than frenzy, my next favorite state is inertia, which has consumed and overtaken new, active me.

One early observation:  As much as I love love New York,  after five days in friendly, warm Canada, the city feels extra harried and mean.  Makes me want to cuddle on the couch even more.  Thankfully, Amy is joining me and can barely sit still for a meal.  No one needs to worry that I’m eating candy, chips, and chewing gum in front of the TV.

Laundry…lots of laundry. I’m leaving again tomorrow morning for New York so there isn’t a lot of time to be futzing around. The other night, reveling in my skiing prowess was cut short by the list ticking in my head. LLBean, the bank, REI, research, CCA, cables, DVT prevention etc, etc. All things that need to be done before departing for a month. I actually wrote everything down which eased the anxiety, but not the urgency.

So today is about errands and chores. Of course it all starts with making sure I have clean underthings. A few answers to questions from my first trip:

1) CCA is full-time but only once a month in SF. No moving, I’ll just spend a long weekend there and hope I can crash on couches. I’m also going to work full-time. That’s the beauty of the program.
2) Got the honey dip donut at Tim Horton’s with a cup of coffee. Coffee, good; donut, eh.
3) I wrote the mitten maker to see if I can get a new partner for my solo mitt. Curious as to the response.
4) I see no reason why I would even entertain the idea of basejumping.
5) No sign of those cute Canada Olympics mittens to buy anywhere, although I did see them on an ice dancer staying at the hotel. I didn’t rip them off her hands.

Tomorrow is the train up to NYC for theater weekend. I’m also going to get to see Kate and her baby Lila for a nice lunch. The last time I was in NYC, it poured all weekend. Here’s hoping for better weather.

Now to figure out what to do with the $20 CAD that I couldn’t figure out how to waste.

I’m going back to school! I’ll be enrolling at the California College of the Arts graduate school working towards my Masters in Design Strategy. How did this come about? Pretty much a combination of insomnia and impulsive desperation.

I’ve pondered graduate school ever since I finished up at UVA. My plan was an MBA from a top 10 business school (Kellogg or Wharton) then on for world domination at some fancy strategy consulting firm.

Well life didn’t take me there. Instead I found my way after a two-day workshop on human centered design. The desire for education simmered for two years until one night about six weeks ago when I started frantically searching for a program I could join this fall.  CCA’s program looked perfect at 3am and I decided if they would let me apply late, I’d go for it.

The school graciously gave me 24 hours to submit the application and a week to get transcripts and recommendations. Now I’m holding an acceptance letter. School starts in August.

A perfect topper to my trip up to Lake Louise was the surprise waiting for me:  Afternoon Tea to celebrate my entry into CCA.

I enjoyed a leisurely tea after my first day of skiing.  The Chateau hotel staff was perhaps even more excited than me.  They had had an envelope affixed to their reservation book and were curious about the lucky recipient.   The tea (masala chai) was very elegant and the upgraded glass of champagne went down very smoothly.   The tea is one of the best gifts and surprises anyone has ever given me.

There’s a skier in our midst!  Today was a truly awesome day that almost wasn’t.  I woke up sore and terrified of another day on the slopes.  I figured two days of skiing was pretty good.  I could go snowshoeing or glacier hiking.  Then I spoke to Vilma, the queen of never giving up.  She put it to me straight, “you did go up there to ski, right?  Why are you giving up so easily?  Go out there and keep going!”

Mourning yesterday’s lost glove, I suited up, reattached my courage, and drove to the ski area.  My heart was racing, teeth were chattering, and fear was slowly overtaking me.  I even tried to use the super expensive gloves at the resort as a deterrent.  (Btw, ladies, just buy youth size gloves.  They fit and are cheaper.)  So I reached for another form of courage: the liquid kind and instructor approved.  A little Tanqueray prior to my lesson calmed my nerves.  Best decision of the trip so far.

What a day!  Tim H was exactly the instructor I needed.  He listened when I said “I don’t like speed.”  He pushed and encouraged without making me feel lame for being wussy.  After a few warm up runs, we headed up on the gondola to the “top of the world.”  I wish I had taken my camera with me because the views were amazing.  Like yesterday, we did Pika and then moved on to Lookout where we finished out the day.  I had a blast.  With the wind in my face, I finally let go and enjoyed the feel and sound of my skis slicing through the snow.  Yes, I fell a few times, but it wasn’t so bad.  I even enjoyed those straightaways with some legitimate speed.  Tomorrow morning, I leave Lake Louise a stronger, not as apprehensive skier; a little more willing to take a few risks.  I got past where I had hoped to be.  Not too shabby a start to my adventures, I’d say.

Next ski season, we’re all coming back.