I love airports. I really mean LOVE airports. Nothing to think about, nothing that needs doing, no one that needs my attention. The only way it could be any better is if it had a tub, a bed, and a tv. I don't even need the tv. Obviously, though the computer would be nice. You know, so I could blog or write, for a change.
Cutezilla is in Charleston with her Grammy and Grandad, and apparently having a blast. But I'm a little disappointed we couldn't bring her with us. It will make arrangements infinitely easier. No car seat to haul or rent, no nap schedules or bathtimes, no insistent demands for the pool-- oh wait. No, we'll still have those. I brought my bathing suit, and Houston is supposed to be BAKING this week. Despite that, I also brought my workout wear. I've been feeling pretty good about my workouts, and frankly, Houston scares the crap out of me, since the food was freaking amazing last time we went. Cafe Adobe has this amazing chicken stuffed with cheeses and avocado, Texadelphia has a perfect Philly Cheesesteak, that in my opinion is even better than the real thing from Philly, although the natives would probably disagree with me. And then there are the kolaches. KO-lah-CHEES. OMG. The perfect breakfast. Pastry stuffed with cheeses, sausage, bacon, ham, fruits -- whatever you want. I love them! I need to get some recipes. And to top it all off, being so close to New Orleans, they also have beignets. How did I get this lucky to have real beignets twice in one year? Because you bet your rear end, I'm going to have one. And probably more than one.
And thus the reason Houston scares the crap out of me. I'm going to leave this city as big as I was last time, and I was at least 6 months pregnant then. Every time we ate, I loaded up until I hurt. I mean my skin felt like it was literally splitting. I was afraid to go near any sharp-cornered coffee or dining room tables in case I leaned in too much and popped a seam and exploded right there as I tried to sit down for dinner. I would hurt for hours after I ate, too. It was awful. And delicious. Probably one of the reasons I gained sixty pounds during my pregnancy. If I had lived IN Houston, though, I would have gained twice that.
The additional problem? I can have beer this time around. And my buddy, PG, has a favorite little bar right down the road from his place. And it's a cool little bar, with an open air beergarten in the back. But the hot weather may be a nice deterrent at least for going to the bar and getting schnockered. Which of course means we'll be getting schnockered elsewhere. One of the other grad students from the hubby's ND days will be getting married too, so we'll be driving out to Gonzales, Texas for the wedding, and I'm spectacularly excited about it. Again, there are some good things to come out of leaving my little booger at home with my folks. Getting schnockered with my friends while she's awake doesn't exactly nominate me for Mother of the Year, but it might get me down-graded from Beta Mom. And personally, I like my status as Beta Mom.
But I'm excited about our trip. And we're loading, so it's from Airport Bliss that I leave you. Hopefully I'll blog more as the trip progresses.