Each year when I return home to Texas my world sort of gets turned upside down. The uneven cobblestones give way to miles of smooth sidewalk, subway platforms are replaced with drafty two-car garages, and in place of local pizza joints are tiny taqerias run by someone's Abuelita. It's also a time when I tend to leave my high heels and super skinny jeans in the closet. Cause really, who wears high heels to shuck oysters and go to Wal-Mart?