adazzle,dim

So, I got to spend the weekend at the Hotel Icon (which I will blog about separately as per my 101 Things) in downtown Houston with my oldest and dearest friend Lizzie. No babies, no boys. And boy was it wonderful. (Even with a sore throat, which managed to wait til Monday to erupt into a full-blown headcold. Yay. Anyway…)

A quick highlights reel:

We arrived late Thursday night - she by plane and I by five-hour drive. We talk-talk-talked and then *crashed*. Best sleep I’ve had in ages.

Friday morning we had a late “breakfast” of carne asada tacos and cantaloupe juice at a taqueria across from the hotel. If you’re ever in Houston, you’ve got to check this place out. It was so, so good. After breakfast we spent the day tooling around Houston. We shopped around Highland Village, where I bought some nice stationery and some pretty, silky things. Then we headed over to Montrose, which is where all the interesting shops are. We had fun at antiques shops and vintage clothing stores and various other, um, exciting places… *ahem*. We had a yummy lunch of sausage/spinach/fontina pizza and I-swear-to-golly-the-best-ever coconut creme cake at the empire cafe.

After popping back to the hotel for showers and primping and other girlish endeavors, we met my other dear friend Stephanie - who also happens to be the first girl I ever kissed - for dinner, drinks and lively conversation at Spaghetti Warehouse. Ok, maybe “lively” is an understatement? It was spectacular, hilarious and at times downright sparkly. :P Stephanie had to leave us not too long after dinner since - between her (4) kids, her (3) step-kids, and their various friends - she had a dozen or so kids at her house. Lizzie and I decided to have some adventures and checked out a couple downtown bars where we had a few mildly interesting conversations with mildly interesting people. Mildly. *yawn*

Deciding we absolutely needed to dance, and pronto, and finding that nobody was dancing anywhere downtown, we grabbed a cab back over to Montrose and hit #s for the oh-so-classic #s Friday Night. Speaking of numbers, here are a few:

2: hour of the A.M. when we stopped dancing
3: inches of heels on my shoes
19: approximate average age of the kids at #s
10: estimated number of years since I had last danced to Front 242
7?: number of drinks I had. I think. Maybe 8?
0: number of nights when I can remember having more fun.

So, yeah, you’d think that after that and then late-night fruit-cheese-and-bread room service before bed, I’d sleep til noon, right? Nope, that was Lizzie. Me? Up at 8:20 like the well-trained Mommy I am. (That *was* sleeping in for me, actually. :P ) With the morning to myself, I treated myself to a ridiculously overpriced breakfast at Voice, the restaurant housed in Hotel Icon (since my favorite little taqueria wouldn’t open til afternoon, it being a weekend day) and then employed a driver to drive me ten blocks to Macy’s. (Why, you ask, didn’t I walk the ten blocks to Macys? Um, remember? Dancing, late, heels, little sleep, ouuuuuuuch…) Anyway, I enjoyed shopping all five (5!) floors and left with a few cute outfits for AB, some cute flip-flops for me (for the spa, later) and a new little black dress for work and etc.

I returned to the hotel at noonish, threw the drapes open to flood the room with sunlight, and lured Lizzie from bed with promises of spa pedicures and swimming at the Hilton spa. And a club sandwich. And a spicy bloody mary. (I’m convinced that any combination of three of the above wouldn’t have done it; it took all four enticements in tandem. :P )

So off to the Hilton we trotted, and there I enjoyed:

* lunch in the bar with Lizzie, with Olympics in the background which I tried very hard not to watch because, hello, tyrannical human-rights-abusing police state hosting? I failed a little, but it was just the trampoline. O:-\
* a relaxing pedicure overlooking the cityscape
* a wonderful back-and-forth-and-back-and-forth time at the pool/hot-tub, which - since they abutted one another - were easy to alternate
* fifteen minutes in the steam room. (Highly recommended, if you’ve never done it and can do almost-public nudity. Every pore in my body felt cleansed.)
* the most wonderful cold shower ever taken on the planet. Ever.

In the car on the way back from the Hilton, conversations about what to do with Saturday night commenced. We decided on Last Concert Cafe, where I hadn’t been in a decade. And still haven’t, as it turned out. I grabbed the wrong pre-printed google map and ended up driving us to a vintage clothing store in the Heights. Oops. :P We were disappointed but decided to just pick a place nearby and eat as we were starving. This actually turned out to be a blessing in disguise as a quiet dinner on the patio at Spanish Flowers afforded us one of the best opportunities for in-depth conversation that we enjoyed in Houston. I love that Lizzie and I can talk about anything - and do. I wish, wish, wish that we lived closer to one another, but the move she just made - from San Diego, CA, to Manhattan, NYC - brought her only 132 miles closer. :(

Anyway. After dinner we just headed back to the room to pack our bags and chill for the rest of the night. We were <i>tired</i>. The drive back home Sunday (after dropping Lizzie at the airport and hitting IKEA) was long but not at all lonely: I enjoyed the solitude, the sunroof, and the stereo’s sounds.

***

^This was actually written Monday, but here I am getting it posted on Wednesday. La la la. Anyway, I’ve got yucky sinus-cold junk, and I’m home today with AB, who was sent home from school yesterday with - supposedly - an upset stomach. She hasn’t showed the first symptom since I picked her up, but they still won’t have her back at school til tomorrow. Grr.

A few of the bajillion reasons I love my Mommy:

• You stayed home with me and Adam even when money was tight, and then you worked part-time when we were in school (sometimes in jobs you hated) so you could be there when we got home.
• You were my girl scout leader and sunday school teacher and volunteer school librarian and whatever else needed doing. You always found ways to be present and active in our lives.
• You sewed me clothes from infancy right up through high school. These, not the fancy store-bought labels, are the clothes I remember with great affection.
• You made popcorn balls with us for Christmas, and knew just how to wrap them and hang them on the tree.
• You let me be myself and love me for who I am, even when the rest of the world seems to find that difficult.
• You know how to be silly and dorky and laugh and play like nobody’s looking, even when they are.
• You’ll drop everything you’re doing to contemplate a spider web or a cool-looking bug or a beautiful cloud. You haven’t forgotten how to wonder, even now.
• You know five million songs, and sing them as much now as you did through our growing-up years.
• You taught me to love books and reading.
• You pursued your dream of finishing college and becoming a teacher as a 38 year-old woman who’d been out of school for almost 20 years (which I am just now beginning to truly appreciate), and you did it with straight A’s and honors.
• You thought it was fun, when you were in College Spanish and I was in High School Spanish, to practice together and not speak English no matter what.
• You put silly little notes in my lunch box all the way through high school. (I still have a stack of them.)
• You were there not only for me but also for Shannon when we were facing pain and fear and loss we couldn’t begin to comprehend. You were as much a mother to him as to me in those hard days, and you helped fill his last days with love.
• You adamantly insist that you cannot work a DVD player or spreadsheet program or cell phone (though I know you could) and let us help you with our “expertise.”
• You’ve always known how to name a pet properly, from G.M. Yewditock back in the 80’s right up to Pergo in the new millenium. You ignore all cries of “What kind of name is that for a cat?”
• You made us oatmeal and chocolate chip cookies and spaghetti from scratch, not from packets and packages and cans.
• You sent us outside instead of turning on the television. (I still love that I never know what people are talking about when they talk about the TV shows and movies they watched growing up.)
• You were never afraid to get your hands in the mud or the (home-made) play-dough or finger paints.
• You never seem to run out of love, even (maybe especially) for those who don’t particularly deserve it.

I hope I can be half the mom to AB that you have been to me.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mommy. I love you.

Chicken and Vegetable Burritos

1 medium onion, chopped

1 medium carrot, cut in half then into thin half-moons

1 large sweet green pepper, diced

1 T olive oil

2 cloves garlic, finely chopped

1 (14.5 oz) can stewed tomatoes

1 medium zucchini, cut in half then into thin half-moons

1 c chicken broth

1 pkg taco seasoning

½ tsp salt

1 lb ground chicken (I use cubed chicken breasts)

1 c instant white rice

1 pkg (8) burrito-size tortillas

8 oz. shredded taco cheese

Salsa beans (recipe follows)

Heat oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add onion, carrot, and green pepper; sauté until soft, about 6 minutes. Add chicken and garlic. Cook until chicken is no longer pink, about 5 minutes. Stir in tomatoes, zucchini, broth, taco seasoning , and salt. Cook, covered, four minutes, just until zucchini is tender. Remove from heat and stir in rice. Cover and let stand five minutes. Heat oven to 375. Spoon about ¾ cup filling into each tortilla. Wrap. Place, seam side down, in 13X9 dish. Sprinkle with taco cheese. Heat in 375-degree oven 10 minutes, until heated through.

Salsa Beans: Combine 15-oz can kidney beans, drained and rinsed; 15.5-oz can pinto beans, drained and rinsed., ¾ cup salsa, and ¼ tsp salt in saucepan. Heat over medium-high heat about five minutes.