That Texas feeling

In less than 12 hours I'll be on a plane headed to Texas, probably sitting in my cramped seat sipping a Bloody Mary, filled with anxiety, excitement and other mixed emotions.

There, we'll visit Austin, Dripping Springs, Wichita Falls and places in between, visiting family, seeing friends and checking out Fun Fun Fun.

The other day as I started to stress out for various reasons--mostly regarding travel logistics and family dynamics--Cory pointed out that in addition to all those things we have planned, the trip would allow me to "get my Texas recharge."

That cheered me up a bit. Because family dramas and packed schedules aside, I am very excited about returning to my home state--including the very street where I lived as a baby.

Sure, I'm disappointed that the election didn't go better. I'd hoped to come home to a new governor and a more progressive state, but the conservative status quo won out this time.

It's odd, I know, I haven't had a Texas address since I was 13--but I still consider it home.

California is home to me, too, however. Just as much so as Texas. It's just that I mostly get to experience the Golden State everyday while my Lone Star moments drift further and further apart. It's been 29 months since my last visit. But who's counting?

All of my anxieties aside (there'll be time to write about that later, I suppose), I'm looking forward to driving long stretches on the highway beneath that gigantic Texas sky. I can't wait to drive through tiny backwoods towns and, also, visit the last house where I lived. I can't wait to see bluebonnets and signs for Blue Bell ice cream. I hope we get to visit the botanical gardens or at least a few great indie record shops. I'm not necessarliy a nostalgic person, but I hope to reconnect wtih a part of myself that's always there but often lies buried beneath my grown-up California self.

Catch y'all later.