Austin, Texas= wonderful.

San Antonio, Texas= kind of a dump.

No offense, San Antonio, but our day trip to your fair city was not the highlight of our vacation. Sure, the River Walk was kind of cool, but seeing as Chris and I were exhausted from our partying on Austin's Sixth Street the night before, the River Walk for us was more a of a River Trudge. We went from bench to bench like a couple of old folks, sitting in silence and watching the younger kids dash by from exciting place (been there) to exciting place (done that). We did have some County Line BBQ on the River Walk, however, which was something I had wanted to do. When my big plate of sloppy ribs arrived, however, I began to wonder if the whole vacation, or possibly my whole life, was one big mistake after another.

The definite low-light of San Antonio was the Alamo. It sucked. The only reason that I'm glad we went to the Alamo was because Chris and I both took poops there in the Alamo restrooms (vacations always mess up my "schedule") and now we can say, with pride, "The Alamo? Yeah, I've been there! I took a dump there." And that's just plain funny. Other than that, lame. The Alamo is a gift shop and a building with nothing in it except for a couple of flags and a guest book. Whatever.

The highlight of San Antonio was probably the McNay art museum. Art was a big part of our trip- in Austin, we went to both Austin Museums of Art and also the Blanton Museum of Art on the UT campus. At the downtown Austin Museum of Art, we saw an exhibit that we won't soon forget: Lordy Rodriguez's States of America.*

There was a lot of bar-hopping and live music in Austin. We stayed at Texas' most famous hotel (according to one website), the Driskill. Our room would have normally cost $550 per night, but due to the state of the economy(?) we got it for a low, low $240. Probably the nicest hotel we will ever stay in. Did you know that's where President Lyndon Baines Johnson met his wife, Lady Bird? In the Driskill? Well, you do now.

Austin is just a wonderful place. It's compact and hip and full of independent shops and restaurants and bars and art galleries. It's clean and warm (!) and although I think they might have a small homeless problem, I'd go back in a heartbeat. I would love to live there, I think, and would move in a heartbeat if I was the kind of person who actually moved to places outside the Chicago area. As history has shown, I'm not.

I did get homesick thoughout our trip. I always get homesick. I missed my bed, my TV, cooking my own food, reading on my couch, showering in my own bathroom. I don't travel particularly well. I don't do a lot of things particularly well, including putting on a bright face when inside parts of me just want to lie down and give up.

Now we're back, and work has been nuts. I feel like I've been working four times as hard to make up for my vacation, which is always the rub. But today will be a good, relaxing Saturday afternoon. Leaving soon to meet Bethie for some Noodles and Company and some He's Just Not That Into You. At the end of the day, that's the kind of vacation I'm equipped to handle: a cinematic vacation.

Although we will go back to Austin. How could we not?

* http://www.stretcher.org/archives/r4_a/2004_07_01_r4_archive.php

* http://www.artdaily.org/index.asp?int_sec=2&int_new=28289

Another Valentine's Day, another bunch of wild flowers from the grocery store, and another homemade dinner. Dinner's scheduled to be made in a couple of hours or so, after my funny Valentine finishes slaying beasts in the newest Kongregate game. Dinner is yakisoba, of course, my all time favorite meal of the many that Chris has in his repertoire. We went to the Japanese grocery store earlier today where we purchased not only the ingredients, but also a small tray of sushi, which we ate like burgers and fries during the car ride home. That was a first. Probably a last.

We're also going to watch "W" tonight. "Is that really a Valentine-appropriate movie?" Chris asked me while we drove to our first Valentine's Day stop- the always romantic public library. It is, of course, a Valentine-appropriate flick. Our aligned political views are one of the many things that define us as a couple. Other things in the couple-defining category include our shared love of bricks of cheese, our general aversion to crowds, and the fact that we both really like that Killer's song, "Spaceman." Is "Spaceman" a Valentine-appropriate song? Considering that it's about a failed suicide attempt, I'd say yes. The key word there would be "failed."

Anyway, that's what we have going on today, this fourteenth of February. Now excuse me while I dive into a novel I've been waiting months to read. I could have bought the book, sure- but instead, I waited patiently for the library to eventually meet my needs. Which might just be a metaphor for love. Don't worry though- the library always comes through.

We have a serious honeybee issue. Why wasn't I told about this sooner? The honeybees are disappearing, our food supply is in danger, and Einstein said that humans will only have four (or was it five?) years of existence left if the bee goes the way of Pepsi Blue. Honestly, I'm worried. I want to help. What can I do? Can I donate money to the honeybee foundation? Should I plant bee-friendly flowers in my yard? Is there some kind of petition I can sign to bring the bees back? Whatever nature needs me to do, I will do it. As long as nature requires only about $20 of my cash and 20 minutes of my time.

There's a lot to be worried about. If it's not the end of the Mayan calendar in 2012 that does us in, it will be this dang honeybee problem. And if it's not the honeybee problem, it will be the bird flu or SARS or just good old fashioned cancer. How am I expected to get anything done when I'm surrounded by nothing but eminent doom?

In other news, Chris went to the wild game store the other day and bought elk burgers, lion burgers, kangaroo jerky, and brown bear steak. All we've had so far are the elk burgers (juicy) and the kangaroo jerky (ridiculously chewy). I'll keep you updated on the lion and the bear.

We're going to a wedding tonight at the Wellington, which is the same place that we had our wedding reception almost three years ago. I haven't been back there since that fateful night, but as I prepare for the evening ahead (is it wise to dye your hair the morning of a wedding as opposed to a few days prior?), it's all starting to come back.

You know what still bothers me about my wedding? Perhaps I'm being petty, but the three people who proposed a toast at my reception- Chris' uncle, Chris' brother, and my sister- all neglected to mention me at all. Nothing. It was like I, the bride, wasn't even there at all, and that it was just Chris' night. Now, my sister probably did the right thing by concentrating on welcoming Chris to the family, but why didn't Chris' brother welcome ME to THEIR family? Or why didn't anyone say anything about how beautiful I looked, how I'm the best thing to ever come into Chris' life, how I'm just an all around awesome human being? The only reason I can think of to explain this conspicuous absence of niceties is that none of it would have been true. Maybe I wasn't a beautiful bride, maybe I'm the worst thing to have ever happened to Chris, and maybe I'm not nearly as awesome as I apparently seem to think I am.

It didn't bother me the night of the wedding, mainly because I was concentrating very hard on JUST GETTING THROUGH IT. But as time goes on, it bothers me more and more. True, I didn't want the big wedding. True, I would have much rather eloped or run down to the courthouse during my lunch break. True, I did nothing but bitch and complain during the entire two years of "planning." But, come on. I was the bride. I should at least have been mentioned during the toasts. Instead, everyone went on about how great Chris is. And that makes me hate Chris just a little more than I probably should.

No doubt, the toasts tonight will be all about how wonderful JoAnne is. As they should be- she is pretty wonderful. But everyone going on and on about tonight's bride will no doubt flare up my anger even more- the pissiness that has since turned to a mild rage in these past three-ish years. Lucky for me, there's an open bar.

Our power went out at four this morning. The second the power went out and my bedroom fan whirred to a stop, my eyes flew open and I knew that something was wrong. I climbed out o bed and peered out the bedroom window to see if the rest of the neighborhood was without power as well. It was hard to tell; either the rest of the neighborhood was without power as well or everybody was simply fast asleep in the dark. I put on my robe, walked around the darkened house for a bit, and resisted the urge to open the refrigerator. You're not supposed to open the refrigerator when the power is out. I know this. And yet I always want to, just to see what the food might be up to in the dark.

I found my cell phone in my purse and brought it back to bed with me. I lay under the covers for over two hours, my cell phone in my hand, unable to fall asleep without the comforting white noise of my fan. At long last it was 6:20, time to get up, and I tried to figure out how I could get myself ready for work without the use of electricity. Like a true pioneer girl, I lit a scented, decorative candle and brought it into the bathroom where I took my shower in a soft candlelit glow. Thankfully, lack of electricity doesn't affect hot water. Thankfully, you can still flush a toilet without electricity. Thankfully, I actually enjoyed showering by candlelight. It was a soothing, strangely romantic-feeling situation, and I think I may make a habit out of it. Bathroom lights are just too harsh first thing in the morning.

Putting my make-up on proved a bit more difficult than showering, but thankfully I got through it without using eyeliner instead of lipliner, or vice versa. Finally, it came time to go to work. And suddenly, I had a huge problem. The garage door opener uses electricity, I realized. My heart started pounding, and I thought to myself, "Am I going to have to call off work? What am I going to do??" I woke Chris up and explained my quandary. Like a good husband, he said, "I'll take care of it." I followed him down to the garage and waited for him to do something fancy and complicated, such as hooking up a battery to the garage door opener, maybe using tools and machines, a series of levers and pulleys. Instead, he walked into the garage, lifted up the garage door (by hand!) and, that was it. I was free!

I am assuming the power will be back on when I get home, the clocks all anxiously flashing 12:00, waiting for me to make things right. If not, I will go into full panic mode. So many things in my life require electricity. First and foremost, sleeping.