Houston, Humidity, Hoola Hoops.

Houston -- don't ask why. I just needed to hit the airways. Plus, being able to comfortably wear shorts, tanktop, and flipflops is a rarity that I enjoyed. It's not such a rare occurrence for the general public; with my reptilian blood, I frequently find myself with people in shorts & t-shirts complaining of the heat while I'm in jeans, long-sleeves, and casting about for any ray of sunshine to stand in. So hitting Houston in the mid-90s with humidity enough to choke a Texas long-horn was worth the middle seat on a red-eye with 3 rambunctious kids in the row behind me,kicking the seatbacks and slamming-dropping-slamming-dropping tray tables.
Even if the weather had dipped into the low 40s, however, (here's a new rating system for me: the lower the temperature I'd endure for an experience, the better it is) the Houston Space Center would have been worth every extra layer I'd have to put on. Amazing hands-on activities for adults and kids, photo ops with Darth Vader and Storm Troopers, tram tours through NASA's Johnson Space Center, viewing the Mission Control Center, the Saturn V Complex at Rocket Park. And of course, dead center in the compound, the corral of Texas long-horns (the only ones I saw during my 240-mile roadtrip).

Speaking of the roadtrip...this took me to Galveston Island. The water didn't seem that much warmer than the ambient air - which I actually enjoyed. But the ocean didn't start to hint at hues of blue for at least a half mile out. Choppy waves stirred up so much sand that, when standing knee-deep in the water, I couldn't see my toes. I wasn't exactly overwhelmed with Galveston's coastal beauty, but let's be fair; Dominican Republic, Fiji, Puerto Rico have left their marks on me. Apparently there's enough attraction to the area that the Convention Center keeps things exciting...I missed the hoola-hoop convention by one week. The Duck Tour was an experience worth $15. And maybe worth oh, let's say, 72 degrees. There is amazing history behind Galveston, and a spirit of tenacity everywhere you look. The guide kept pointing out historical sights that were in various stages of reconstruction due to hurricane damage either recent or long past. Every point of interest seemed to be rated on how well it had survived - or how severely it had been damaged by - the storms. He insisted the Train Museum was a must, as well as the trolley that had been in operation since the 1800s. Too bad Ike had closed both operations last year. My mom cracked up at my description of the tour. "Yeah, that sounds like the zoo we took you to in Ghana (West Africa)." She paused to wipe away a mirthful tear. "The whole time, they kept saying, here's the elephant pen. They died last week. Here's where the giraffes are. But they're dead too. And here's where we used to have gorillas, hyenas, so forth, but they died en route to the zoo." No wonder I have such a twisted sense of humor. My mom used to take me to zoos with no animals. But I digress...a little further away from the tourist strip, down a long 2-lane road with the bay on one side and the Gulf of Mexico on the other, vacation properties overlooked sandy stretches of relatively peaceful coastline. Thanks to the frequency of hurricanes, and our intransigence to not allow nature to deny us beach-front property, building codes dictate that structures be elevated 15 feet above ground. Homes, some looking stately, some looking like single-wide trailers, all resemble old women with their skirts gathered above their knees to avoid a troublesome mouse.

All in all, it was an interesting trip. On the horizon is a trip to Portland (I know, I know, you're all on the edge of your seats to see if I finally make it this time) to help Blue Sugar Poet drive home to Sacrademento. Did I mention this will also include her four girls? I have a feeling caving and canyoning will be tame by comparison. Let the good times roll!