What I learned on my winter vacation

I learned San Antonio is hard on your skin. From the moment I stepped off the plane my face felt tight. By the time I flew home it was taking on the texture of a well-loved briefcase. Still, a little sun-brightened pink in your cheeks makes up for a lot-- sunscreen salesmen and dermatologists be damned.

I learned I am lucky enough not to be allergic to Western Mountain Cedar pollen.

I learned Texas men are the most shameless, charming flirts. (Not to be confused with the wolf-whistling, oggling, "Hey, baby!" semi-predatory guy you find everywhere. That is not flirting.) In Texas I am a "Miss" instead of a "Ma'am", or was he just angling for a bigger tip?

He got one, by the way. Minimum wage for tipped employees in that area is a paltry $2.13/hour.

I learned "A Tale of Two Cities" is not the best choice of book on CD if the woman sitting next to you on the plane wants to chat, and people will want to chat more if you're knitting lace in a pleasant shade of pink than if you're knitting a chunky grim harvest gold hat.

I learned it's much easier to sit on the tarmac in an airplane for over an hour waiting for your gate to open up if you're already at your final destination, not helplessly watching the minutes tick away as your connecting flight to some wonderful exotic place takes off while you grind your teeth, snap at the flight attendant and heave monstrous martyr sighs accompanied by dramatic eye rolls. (which doesn't help)

I learned the best food in San Antonio is at my sister-in-law's house. For those of you not lucky enough to eat ribs there, you can eat Bar B Q at Rudy's. The atmosphere is phenomenally awful but the brisket is great.

And lastly, sometimes in February you just have to use your car's air conditioning. (OK. I admit it. Now I'm just trying to rub it in.)