Survivor -- Houston

As I watch my neighbor trekking down the street with a kayak on his head, I once again ask myself, "Why exactly do I choose to live in Houston?" Kayaks and canoes have become a popular mode of transportation in the neighborhood. "Do you live near a lake?" you ask. Good question. No, I do not. I live in Houston (or more specifically Cypress) -- home of the instaflood. I'm sure you saw us on the news being evacuated from the rising water.What a contrast to last year when we sat and watched the skies at night looking for the tell-tale signs of smoke and certain annihilation by fire. Next year I predict a locust invasion.

I think we should incorporate the tough nature of Houstonians into our Chamber of Commerce PR. Live here and you will learn to survive flood, famine, and the occasional wild hog attack. Hey! Maybe we can do a survivor Houston -- we have steamy swamps (AKA Bayous,) alligators, snakes, and a lot of really creepy looking bugs -- many of which my child has sampled. I say we suggest it to that Mark Probst guy.

I can see it now. We divide into tribes -- inner loopers vs suburbanites ... it could be awesome! We could have challenges in Buffalo Bayou or just see how long someone can tolerate outdoor nightlife downtown with no mosquito repellent. (I think it's just some uber-attractive pheromone to the Houston Mosquito anyway.) And I don't doubt we have quick sand somewhere. OOH! We could leave the contestants in Waller and see if they can make their way back into town with only $5.00! I predict unprecedented viewer numbers.

I stop my day dreaming long enough to continue my careful passage through our streets. My driving skills lacking, I visualize my appearance atop my sunken car on the evening news as a cheerful anchor narrates, "Jim, what do you think possessed her to drive into flood waters?" Quite possibly the same genius quality that commandeered my decision to cancel the flood insurance. Who thought a year after the Great Drought, we'd need paddle boats to get to the grocery? It's a little dicey, but I make it home with no damage to the car.

I am greeted by barking. I've left the dogs outside again. They are not happy. No one wants to be left too long in a sauna. I tell them the same thing Houstonians tell each other -- "Be happy, the humidity is good for your skin!" They are not amused. The two brush past me wet and moody. I accept that I have probably pushed the neurotic one back to hoarding mode as she hustles toward my closet.

I swat aside a mosquito the size of a dragon fly. I think happy thoughts. I recall the three days last fall when the air was dry and the temperature hovered around 75. It was beautiful then ...