Oh Jack, I love you

I am a whiskey girl.  I don't know why, I just am.  And on the rocks...none of that mixer crap.  Although, if you're going to put some Drambuie in it I won't turn it away.  But I don't think that quite counts as a mixer.  Whatever, I like it.

I must admit though that the lack of mixers is because of laziness as much as anything else.  I don't like extra steps.  Plus the sugar in them usually gives me heartburn.  Tequila gives me heartburn, too.  And I hate heartburn, so I avoid those things.  Unless someone orders me a shot of Patron.  Then it's rude to refuse just because of a piddly thing like heartburn.  Or maybe it's cause I don't turn down free alcohol.  Which is probably why I love going to SXSW on the Friday and pretending I'm a music industry bigwig.

So I've been pretty much absent from this blog for the past few months...well, quite frankly I forgot about it.  I'm a terrible solipsist, at least in written form.  Or at least lazy...it's harder to write than to talk.  And I do a lot of talking.

We've done a bit of traveling.  Houston, Austin, New Orleans.  The standard trips that are sorta haikus by now, though we've been trying to mix it up with the restaurants while still seeing the standard people in those places, cause well, we love the standard people in those places.  La Petit Grocery is dead to us.  Muriel's on Jackson Square is the new in place. Niko Niko's in Houston is fab.  The 'Stros have a great fan experience.  Ragin' Cajun in Houston is fab.  Ninfa's on Navigation is fab.  El Mirador in San Antonio is dreadfully bad.

Anyway...more later.  I'm spent for now.