luna, lunita, lunera*

I love traveling. Packing my bags. Tiny little bottles full of conditioner. Watching people at the airport. The whole thing. Of course its not all perfect. For some reason I seem to scream terrorist and I always end up in the stricter line where someone feels the need to feel me up. (This time they stuck me in some strange machine that blew air on me- it was bizarre to say the least). And my bags are always the last to show up, without fail. But overall, I love the whole thing. I like sitting on a plane, curled up with my fabulous travel pillow, and just staring out at all the fuzzy clouds. Its perfection.

My flight to Texas also ended up being non-stop and I got a window seat with no one sitting next to me in the middle. So all was looking good. Or so I thought. Just as we were getting ready to leave the gate, a couple rushes in and I hear the flight attendant say that there are only two seats left on the plane, one of them being next to me. So I looked them over and was just hoping that the larger gentleman would not be sitting next to me. His pretty girlfriend (or maybe wife?) came to sit next to me instead and I thought I lucked out and was ready to go back to pretend sleep. Now I feel the need to tell you that this woman was stunning. She was possibly Indian or maybe Pakistani, olive skin, beautiful light brown hair, perfectly shaped, dressed impeccably (like they always are), with the most incredible light turquoisey blue eyes. Perfection. Sitting next to me for the next 3 hrs. Not bad right? Except she smelled. Bad. Horribly bad. So bad that I turned the little air thing on (which I never do because I get impossibly cold, and I hate being cold) and turned away into the window and just hoped the smell would go away. But it didn't. It just got worse. It wasn't body odor, I think maybe the smell was emanating from her purse because every time she reached in to get something the smell would just get worse. I think eventually my nose went on strike because I could only faintly make out the awful funk. And by faintly I mean that I would slip into sleep only to awaken because I'd inadvertently slipped into a pocket of stinky air. So my non-stop flight felt endless.

The clouds were pretty though. And eventually I landed. In beautiful Texas. Where it was 79 degrees at 8pm. Just to remind you, there's no sun at 8, so this is just leftover heat. And its why I love Texas. My mom however greeted me at the airport wearing a little wrap, because she said it was chilly. Yea. I love Texas. Just being here makes me feel better. Plus my daddy's hair is the most perfect silver white and he looks extra adorable. I told him he looked like Anderson Cooper, and had a certain gravitas to him. And he laughed, because he knows what gravitas is and I remembered why I adore him so. Its nice to be back.

And now some links:

* The title is from Juanes' adorable "Luna" which you should lisen to right now

* A video on how to get perfect eyebrows in 7 minutes

* To balance out that last link there's this shirt, which perfectly balances humor, raunchiness, and fashion. You didnt think that was possible did you?

* According to this post Argentina is my promised land, pretty people, steaks for lunch and dinner, and dulce de leche. Read the whole thing, and then go eat some steak.

* Sex advice from gossip columnist. Its funny and vaguely educational.

* I love vespas, but now hybrid vespas? I wish I lived someplace where I could have a vespa, and not be crushed to death by suvs.

* For those of you who share my fetish for very pretty tall shoes there's this cute story from the ny times.

* A great interview with Carmen Callil, who founded Virago Press which published books by Adrienne Rich, Maya Angelou, Angela Carter and some other awesome female writers. The interview is funny, and witty, and you should read it. At the very least skim through it.

* I finally saw Duck Season and it was cute, and sweet, and funny. The next up is La mujer de mi hermano, which looks like its going to be good and is showing all over the place.