I didn't expect to leave Texas unscathed, but I was hoping the recovery period would be shorter than the trip. Now my enlarged body parts include both tonsils and my uvula. That's U-V-U-L-A.
Broken the fever, cut down on the body aches, and now trying to work on the throat and not sound like Kim Carnes. Wait; I'm a guy, so I should say Harvey Fierstein.
Daniel: What's the difference?
Frank: Some Scotch tape and red hair dye.
Houston is Atlanta on steroids. A combination of expanded roads and buildings to an existing and crumbling infrastructure that just makes everything look old. I expected a large, vibrant city with a healthy skyline and obvious Latin influences; what I saw was, say, a bloated and uglier Louisville. I... don't understand the appeal.
Anyway, the wedding festivities were beautiful and went mostly according to plan. I entertained myself with the idea that, after five such Indian extravaganzas this summer, none loom on the horizon for at least the next two years. Because if people are waiting for me, they'll have to keep waiting.