…… well, not really two cities. There’s no way I can ever be torn between NY and Houston.
Like, ever.

But at the moment I’m feeling torn between two homes.
Which I guess is a good way to feel?

I am absolutely in love with my new home in Houston.
Deliriously and happily.
So I just might be missing it a little.
Who’d’ve thunk?

I closed on it May 1st and then I never spent another night in the other house again. Which meant a lot of tossing and turning on a not-very-comfy-futon, but I didn’t care.

The other house is now empty, except for a few pieces of furniture that Daughter #2 will pick up when that house sells.
Please God, let it sell soon.

I flew to NY on Sunday. I had planned to fly up here on the 15th, because Daughter #2 is coming up here for a few days to visit and celebrate my birthday. But then I received an email, reminding me of the Drama Desk Awards on June 1st (the DD Awards are for all things Broadway and off and off off). You see, I had purchased a ticket to these awards, but in the craziness of moving, I had forgotten that small fact.

Now, in the scheme of most things, that small fact wasn’t that big of a deal. It’s not a huge show and the ticket wasn’t expensive. But when I remembered that I had a ticket to it, I also remembered that I had a ticket to the mother-of-them-all-Broadway-award-shows …… the Tonys.
Yes, THE Tonys!!!
How could I have forgotten that?!
Evidently pretty dang easily.

So I had to change my airline ticket, because while I had no problem passing the Drama Desk Awards ticket to Daughter #3 (which she graciously took and enjoyed) there was no way on God’s green earth that I was going to miss THE TONYS!!!!

So, I left Houston on Sunday morning, planning on getting in around 4:00, thus, getting to the apartment around 5:00 which would leave me plenty of time to get ready and get to the show before 6:30, because the doors close at 7:00 (even though the televised show doesn’t start till 8:00).
Are you still with me?

Son #3 took me to the airport, but only after what became an hysterical hunt (hysterical on my part) for my notebook/calendar/keeper of important things. I take this notebook with me everywhere I travel. And I usually take it anywhere important to keep appointments and documents in it until I can file them away. Yes, I use my phone to input appointments, but having been through a computer crash a couple of times, I will never fully trust technology with all things important.
Evidently I will never trust my brain with those, either.

After about 10 minutes of searching the house, with my bags already in the Son’s car, I was in full-freak mode.
That’s because the notebook held my Tony Awards ticket.
See?
Understandable now, isn’t it?

By that time both sons had joined the hunt, even though I know that they were thinking, if not discussing with each other, that the time to put me in a “home” was not far off.

Thankfully, I found the notebook underneath some mail, and then we were off to the airport.
Where, so it seemed, half of Houston had decided to spend the day.
And they had all joined me in trying to fly on United. AND, they were all also “preferred” flyers.
I have to tell you that, being a preferred flyer, is not what it used to be. In fact, when you get in line at security in Houston, United has a “quicker” line for its’ preferred customers. And most days, that line is far longer than the “regular joe” flyers line.

So we all waited, and waited, and waited some more to get a turn at one of those “self serve” screens (which really aren’t all that “self serve” when you have to wait on an employee to come ticket your bags and give you the receipts). There were far more flyers than there were employees.
But, I finally made it through and breezed through security. The plane started boarding within a couple of minutes of my arrival so I sailed through that part, too.
I should’ve known.

Once we all got on board, an announcement was made. For some reason that no one knew, our flight was going to be delayed by about, oh … about 20 minutes. It might be bad weather in NY, but no one really knew. All they knew is that it was coming from there and we were delayed.
Again, I should’ve known.

Because a twenty minute delay is never really a twenty minute delay. And instead of saying, “we’re going to be delayed for about an hour”, they just keep repeating “20 minutes” every twenty minutes, which is mostly aggravating.

So instead of arriving in NY at 4, I arrived after 5. But, I still figured that I could get to the apartment by 5:30 or so, and have enough time to change, put on makeup and walk to the theatre.
Which I would’ve been able to do, had it not been the day of the Puerto Rican parade.

I’m pretty sure there’s a parade every day in NY somewhere. And the majority of them are probably on the small-ish side and over with in less than an hour. And most people can smile and wave and think, “Oh, how nice …… a parade!”, and then go on with their business.
Not so with the Puerto Rican parade.

I have no idea why, but this parade is known to be one of THE most wild events of the year. And not “wild in a good way”, but “wild in a “don’t go outside at all while the parade is passing way”.
Yes, seriously.

So there I was, stuck in parade traffic with a driver who made double sure that the doors were locked. I never saw the parade, but I guess the traffic was still being effected.

So I arrived at the apartment sometime near 6:00.
Which means that I had to race to unpack my dress and makeup and then get into both so that I could get out of the door by 6:15.
I think I made it out by 6:20.
I wore little flat ballet-like shoes (which matched my dress) and carried my heels (which also matched my dress) in my purse. Which did NOT match my dress but was at least big enough to hold my heels.
I looked weird.
A woman speed walking through the streets of NY, holding up the hem of her formal dress so that everyone could see the dorky shoes she was wearing and wondering where the heck she was going.
Not really.
People in NY don’t look at anyone and wonder where they’re going.

I finally got within a couple of blocks and started fitting in with the men in tuxes and more women in formals. I stopped to change my shoes before I approached the doors to Radio City.
It was so cool because the other side of the street was barricaded at the curb and there was a throng of people (is that an actual word?) watching all of us and taking pictures as we were going in.
There’s going to be an awful lot of disappointed people with me in their pics.

I had a fabulous seat, the center of the 2nd mezz, on the isle. Clear shot of Hugh Jackman. Wow!
Now, this was not the closest I’d ever been to Hugh. I saw him twice on Broadway and was much closer, but just being in the same room with him is enough for me.
So cute.

The show was terrific, he did a wonderful job hosting, and everyone had a lot of fun.
I loved keeping my FB friends apprised of all things as they happened. It made me feel like I had 100 friends there, sitting with me.
I had seen almost every show that was nominated and was happy with the way it turned out.
And happy that I videoed every musical number as it was performed. I think this is probably the one time during the year when the ushers don’t swoop in and nab your phone for taking pictures. There were phones everywhere … all night.

Sunday was a very busy, sometimes stressful, day. But it was wonderful.
Except for the fact that I woke up that day thinking it was Father’s Day. And I didn’t have time to call any of the men in my life to tell them Happy Father’s Day, until I was walking/running to the Tonys. That’s when I called my Dad, who thankfully didn’t answer, and told him Happy Father’s Day on his voice mail.
Then I felt horrible when I arrived at the apartment close to midnight and remembered that I hadn’t called the other two dads. (Don’t ask.)
I just figured I’d call them the next day.
Imagine my surprise when they were still doing Father’s Day things on the Today Show. It then dawned upon me that I just might have been a wee bit off. I opened my calendar and saw that, indeed, I was a week off.
And felt like a moron.
And yes, my dad called me later. I didn’t say “hello”, I just picked up and said, “I know it wasn’t Father’s Day yesterday. I’m a moron.”

Or maybe someone with WAY too much going on.

I’ll try to do a picture post later.
Happy Thursday.
🙂