Sunday, December 6, 2009

Back Home

I spent Thanksgiving week between Dallas, Texas and Shreveport, Louisiana, my two hometowns. My mom and her parents live in Shreveport, which is where I spent most of my childhood. My dad is in Dallas, where my younger brother and I visited every other weekend, Thanksgiving, Christmas and half of summer vacation growing up and where I eventually went to college at SMU. So I have pretty strong ties to both cities and, even though both of my parents were awesome enough to come visit me up here, by the time Thanksgiving rolled around I hadn’t been to either home in six months. It was beginning to get rough.

I’d started craning my neck to follow lone sets of cowboy boots spotted in the Times Square tourist crowd, hanging around bad New York barbeque restaurants just to taste the smell, and gulping down New York’s rare and awful version of “Sweet Tea” which, for the sweet tea connoisseurs in the room, is made all wrong. I’m pretty sure they don’t even boil the sugar in with the tea bag. I know. I was in a bad place. Call it Southern withdrawal, or whatever you want. It wasn’t pretty.

I had a much-needed great time in Texas with my Dad and my college friends. I loved having the chance to see their new off-campus apartments and new off-campus lives as well. It’s nuts how fast the time has flown, as cliché as that is to say. Sometimes the truth’s a little cliché.

I also finally had the chance to get my haircut in Dallas, which I hadn’t done the whole six months I’d been in New York. I know what you’re thinking—don’t they have hairdressers in New York? Well, I wouldn’t know, I haven’t looked for any, because they for sure don't have Sharin. People in Dallas following my blog should seriously give her a call (972-898-3656). In addition to being an amazingly talented hairdresser who sometimes styles for photo shoots (nbd…), she’s super fun and very cool. She’s been cutting my hair for four years now and I won’t go anywhere else, which may seem silly now that I live on the East coast but, I’ll make it work. Even if I get a once a year haircut at Thanksgiving. Worth it.

But, I digress.

To get to my mom's for Thanksgiving, I drove the 3 hour trip from Dallas to Shreveport with my 20 (nearly 21!) year old brother that we’ve driven more times than I can remember.We got to do the whole big Thanksgiving family thing with my mom, grandparents, aunts and uncles and cousins. It was great to see everyone, and just to be in the city I grew up in and drive on the streets I learned to drive on, past my old elementary, middle, and high schools and to pick up a Humphrey Yogurt from Counter Culture, something I can’t get anywhere else in the country… mmm.

Major nostalgia ensued and I was worried that it would stay with me on my trip back to New York and beyond into my life up here, but thankfully, it hasn’t. Nostalgia is best in small doses. Too much is a dangerous cocktail that can only end in ill-advised phone calls or a treacherous trip down “What if” Lane.

As great as it was to have time at home, I’m glad to be back in the city. Just signed another six-month lease with my landlady so, officially here to stay.

And today I took a walk to Strawberry Fields in Central Park in hopes of hanging with the hippies, but I think it was too cold for them because all I saw were a bunch of open mouthed tourists and an unofficial-looking group collecting money with a sign that said “end poverty.” I suspect that the only poverty they were ending was their own.

Still, it was a gorgeous day and the lack of hippies and presence of vague and questionable charities couldn’t stop me from enjoying the new book I’m reading, Wake Up, Sir! by Jonathan Ames. Hilarious. Pick up a copy if you get the chance.

Hope everyone else’s Thanksgiving was fantastic!