Limping to Austin

I shall be ringing in the new year in Austin, with my future in-laws. Which, in my case, is a good thing. On my one day in Boulder between Crested Butte and TX, I tried to be a good girl, and I went to Jazzercise. That turned out to be a terrible pre-travel idea, as I twisted the hell out of my ankle halfway through class. Twisted it, as in it was 90 degrees in the wrong direction: the sole of my left foot was looking (rather shocked-like) at the ankle of my right. Luckily Jazzercise is full of moms, so I was taken care of in style. I managed to drive home, where I got to lay up whilst Rex ran all of my necessary pre-travel errands. And then, I got to travel with a cane. As it turns out, traveling with a cane is brilliant, because you get to go in the special no-line security line with the pilots and such, and you get to "courtesy pre-board." That means we were the first people on the plane! My little ankle was swollen to the size of a tennis ball yesterday (or perhaps it was a novel way of smuggling a small bomb? Kidding), but today she's looking much better. And I've dispensed with the cane, which truth be told made me feel a little conspicuous.

Sneaky

My mom was in New York last week for a merchandise show, as she is twice a year. She likes to catch Broadway shows when she can, and if she can get a good deal on tickets, when she's in the Big Apple. A few years ago, she saw The Producers with Nathan Lane and Matthew Broderick for $100, a ticket that she scalped from some guy on the street (and she refused to pay more than face value, thank you very much). Last week, she went to check out Wicked, and found that tickets were $250 and up. So, she decided not to go. What she did do, however, was sneak into Mamma Mia. Not her first choice, but the theater was easier to sneak into. When the ushers busted her, and she admitted to not having a ticket, they escorted her to a seat where she watched the end of the first act and all of the second. I guess when there's a well-dressed 62-year-old lady sneaking in, you can't do much else, can you?

America doesn't do drugs

Tuns out, if you're British and you've been convicted of a crime involving drugs (or anything else that implicates moral turpitude, a phrase that governs lawyers too and that I hate), you will not be permitted to enter this country without a visa. Brits can typically come to the states without one (just like we can go there without one). But they are literally turned away at the U.S. airports at which they land if they have drug convictions, or if they simply admit to having been a drug addict at one point. I get that we want to protect our country from villains and the like, but this is silly and absurd. Just because a person has done drugs, we turn them away. Murder, by the way, is not a crime involving moral turpitude, so I assume that convicted murderers in without a question. Because they're less dangerous? A British memoirist, who was arriving at Newark to attend a book party and book tour to promote his book, was deported straight away for this reason. I guess we'd rather get rid of him than read a book?

Happy New Year!

Well, it's 2008, and I'm in Austin having a grand ole time. Champagne was just $28 per bottle for Moet & Chandon in Belize at duty free, so I've enjoyed some great bubbly and a fabulous time all around. Plus, it was my first new year's with Rex, and we had a magnificent dinner at Jeffrey's in Austin, with Katie. Then, a nice party with sparklers and poppers and champagne and noise makers. Then, home to the hot tub and another bottle of Moet & Chandon, to round out the best new years to date. Happy new year, everyone. And hurrah, it's election year (do we need this or what).

Belize it!

Did you miss me? I'm in Belize, and I think I might stay. San Pedro, Ambergris Caye, Belize. Gorgeous, with turquoise oceans and lots of beach. I snorkeled with nurse sharks, manta rays, moray eels, barracudas, sea turtles, and lots of pretty fishes. I have eaten a ton of marine life, and it's all deliciously fresh. The rum punch is to die for, and parasailing made me feel like all of my cares in the world could just eff-off, I was so content. We took a tour of Mayan ruins at Lamanai, and they were stunning, not to mention the wildlife. Tons of howler monkeys, which have earned their name rightfully by sounding like someone is strangling a lion into a microphone. I saw a baby crocodile, a bird called alternately the jesus christ bird and the feminist bird, and a tree chicken (big iguana). If I die today, I will die happy. If you're lucky, I'll write more about my trip, but if not, at least you know why I haven't been such a computer slave. Now, off to drink more rum punch...

My favorite part...

...is when I walked into the men's room at the Hilton North Glendale this morning. With luggage. And almost had a heart attack. I thought to myself, ladies' rooms don't usually have urinals. OH, it's not a ladies' room. It's a men's room. Back out the door quickly. Very quickly. Oh good, no one around. Open the door to the ladies.' Jump about 6 feet in the air when there's a lady there. It's ok, she didn't see you come out the other one. You're in the right place now. So is she. Proceed.