Special Events – Page 16 – Where Vivid Narratives Live

Peatross Family Reunion 2017

Since both my money and paid time off aligned this summer, I attended a reunion on my father’s side of the family. I hadn’t seen them in nearly ten years.

I’ve only consistently reunited with my immediate family who were in attendance, but it was strange to see them since it was not Christmas.

I’d decided to attend at the last minute, which is why I’m the only one without a family reunion T-shirt.

I made sure to take my father’s picture with his two sisters. I didn’t know if we were going to take any formal group pictures and wanted to get as many as I could.

When I look at long-established married couples like my parents and one of my sisters and her husband, they seem like generations from a by-gone era.

One of my cousin’s wife had her first novel for sale. Reminded me of the time back in 2011 when I took my first novel to the reunion on my mother’s side of the family. Much later after the fact, I discovered that one of my uncles didn’t like the fact that I’d sold my book at the reunion.

Soon after most of us had finished eating, we made the tremendous effort to get everyone on stage to take a group picture.

Then, we took cohort pictures, starting with the 70+ age group.

Next, the 60s group took their picture.

The 50s group started making too much noise, led by one of my sisters, as they made their way to the stage.

For some inexplicable reason, once my group, the 40s, made our way to the stage, only two of us were present in the room; so we had a good time, like the childhood friends we’d been growing up.

Throughout our photo shoot, we kept yelling for another cousin who we knew was in our age group, but was probably outside smoking.

We made the most out of “waiting” for him.

Finally, three other cousins joined us.

The 20s group were far too cool to show out, not having to prove their vitality, but rather show they were no longer children.

Then the teenage and younger group all sat in front of the stage. They should have been the most energetic, but they were pretty subdued as well.

Then, to put the puzzle pieces together in yet another fashion, we took “immediate” family pictures. So, here are the immediate descendants of my parents, starting with our “getting ready shot.”

Followed by the “we got our shit together” shot.

Here are the descendants of my Uncle Earl and Aunt Florence.

Next up, Aunt Carmenta’s descendants.

Here is Aunt Roventa’s family.

And I can never have too many pictures with my sisters with some cousins thrown in.

Here’s perhaps the most sacred picture of them all: the surviving children of Mama Rose Peatross Roberson.

CJ’s Visit

I’d looked forward to my nephew’s cooking since he’s a vegetarian. He first made boiled Brussel sprouts and broccoli, seasoned with salt, pepper and a pat of butter. That was delicious, but his baked chickpeas was the truly exciting dish, seasoned with a fresh ground dry spice mix.

He brushed the canned chickpeas with olive oil.

Baked them for nearly an hour.

Then coated them with the spices he ground by hand.

Saturday morning, we hiked the Slaughter Creek Trail, which was one big, level circle, dotted with informative placards along the way.

There wasn’t much tree cover along most of the way, but we enjoyed the little shade we had.

We were the only ones hiking; so we got this picture, thanks to some people who had taken a break from biking along the trail in the opposite direction of those of us who’d chosen to walk.

Once we regrouped at home, I took CJ to the Carver Museum to see the outdoor Emancipation installation and the permanent indoor Juneteenth installation.

On another fine afternoon, we went to Zilker Park, so he could do some parkour exercises on the rock.

He did a little bit, but not too much to justify another shower since we’d already done Bikram yoga.

We took a mini tour of Austin proper, which included posing with one of the most famous graffiti in the city. We’d patiently waited for a turn until the group who were next didn’t have their act together. I pushed CJ into position to take our own pictures instead.

Next stop: my favorite costume shop. Even CJ had to admit that he’d never seen such a spectacular display of costumes and accessories all under one roof.

Then we visited Graffiti Park, which was far more overrun with plants than the last time I’d visited earlier this year. I let him explore a little on his own since he wore closed-toed shoes, and I had on sandals.

When we visited the State Capitol, I asked him to stand in front of Miriam Ferguson’s portrait. Not merely controversial because she was the first female Texas governor, but also her husband, a former Texas governor himself, was no longer eligible to run again due to his illegal activities. His political enemies feared she was his proxy.

I’m not sure if the memorial stood on a spot where a confederate statue once stood, but I loved seeing it in front of the state capitol, which was built by slave labor.

My big treat was seeing the African American Emancipation Memorial.

After Bikram class, we ate at one of my favorite retox restaurants next door.

Next on the daily workout list: capoeira! I made sure in advance that my “cousin” taught that night. He took us through one of his famous, grueling warm ups before we ever got to the actual capoeira training part. Gave me a beautiful reminder of why I stayed in such terrific shape when I was training. (I need to pick up my personal work out game when I’m in the fitness room.)

Even though CJ didn’t get a chance to spar, at least he had an opportunity to do kick and dodge drills with someone much faster than his aunt.

For our last dinner together in Austin, we ate at a nearby vegan restaurant. Neither one of us were adventurous enough to sample the vegan cheese plate. He’d tried some distasteful vegan cheese in the past and I heeded his caution.

For dessert, we shared a buttermylk pie with raspberry sauce. Now, when I say “shared,” I mean he grudgingly took one bite at my insistence and I ate the rest.

Afterwards, we took an evening stroll along the Lady Bird Lake trail, starting at the Stevie Ray Vaughn statue.

We smelled Congress Street bridge a few feet before we got to it. Silly me thought a 16-year old boy would find the largest urban colony of bats in North America cool. Ha! As soon as he told me that he’s seen lots of bats before in Batman movies, I ridiculed him for nearly the rest of the trip over his lack of enthusiasm, regarding 1.3 million Mexican free tailed bats.

He told me that one day, I’d realize that he’s cool. I responded, “Yes, because in a few years, you’ll actually BE cool.” Hopefully, our brief time together on this visit, with all of our wonderful one-on-one conversations, added to that!

In a Bind

I’ve had bunions for years. My philosophy used to be, if they don’t bother me, then I won’t bother them. They’ve never hurt nor caused me trouble as far as buying shoes is concerned. Then, a few weeks ago in yoga, I noticed it: my left toe encroaching upon the second toe. Such a small thing, but I knew I wouldn’t wait until it become worse to do something about it.

I researched bunion removal surgery. After discovering the operation involved breaking the big to reset it with metal pins, I balked. I’d broken my left ankle in September 2013 and still have 6 pins, which is why that ankle and foot is already bigger than the right foot. Plus, even online research told me that I wouldn’t be a good candidate for bunion removal since they didn’t hurt. With more research, I found nonsurgical bunion treatments. Essentially, I had to bind my big toes at night and reverse the years as a teenager and 20-something of binding my feet in ill-fitting shoes. Theoretically, the bindings will, over time, retrain those tendons. The big toes should stop slanting over the second toe and the bunion itself, which is a protruding bone, will be reset in its original position. After one week of nightly bunion binding, I cannot truthfully say that I see a difference although I’ve felt one. From the first night I used the apparatus, I felt a slight tingle a few minutes of having bound them. On the fourth or fifth night, I had the bright idea to wrap up the slack on end of the strap to get a better fit. That made it fit better, since according to the instructions, I should feel a little pressure at the base of my big toes, but it shouldn’t be painful. Regardless of the new and improved way I’ve bound my toes, I still wake up before 6 AM to whip those bastards off. I figure the long hours bound finally add up and those targeted tendons cannot take it anymore.

The only difference I see is that I’m just about due for another pedicure. I have been nursing my left knee and ankle a little more by wearing a cooper sleeve on them. The tightness behind my left knee has diminished; so, I’m looking forward to slowly increasing my exercise regime.

I’m not sure if it’s merely the lighting, but after three weeks of nightly binding, the bunions look a little smaller. One thing’s for sure, I no longer wake up in the middle of the night, having to remove the binds due to pain. I tighten them as much as I ever did; so the difference must be that those targeted tendons must be loosened. Now that I can keep them on longer, I’m hoping to see more progress.

Another thing I noticed this past week is that the tightness and pressure behind my left knee has gone down considerably. That could be due to regular yoga practice four times a week, but who’s to say that realigning my left big toe didn’t help alleviate pressure behind that knee? At this point, I’ll take whatever positive thing I can get. I’ve tempered my urge to exercise more strenuously since the last thing I want to do is aggravate anything. I absolutely love the feeling that my “permanently injured” left foot feels stronger than ever.

The progress continues. I feel the changes more inwardly that what shows outwardly. My left foot has become stronger, which means I can turn up the intensity of my workout. I would have hoped by now to have remedied this condition, but at least I’m still able to tighten the straps and sleep throughout the night without pain.

I’m not sure if this is like yoga training, where stretching a little every day creates internal changes that cannot be seen externally. Yet, I diligently bind my big toes every night in the hopes of preventing the big toe from crossing over the second one and possibly eliminating the bunion. I guess time will tell although after 5 weeks, I thought I would have seen more progress by now.

At this point, I continued to bind my big toes as an act of faith that the pain I experience in the middle of the night in one foot or another would eventually lead to the complete disappearance of the bunions.

So then I did a little more research to get a ball park figure on how long I had to bind my big toes when I came across an alternative method. Turns out that although I may eventually lessen the effect, I’d have bunions for the rest of my life unless I have surgery. There were several different videos about exercises I could do while awake. The pictured above just involved using a hair tie or strong rubber band. I immediately threw my plastic binders into the recycling bin and grabbed a strong hair tie. For a couple of minutes an evening, I could retrain the tendons in my big toes and sleep without any apparatus. Phase two had begun!

After the first time using the hair band, I didn’t really like that method either since the band was so thin, the elastic cut. On the second night I used a hair band, I was adding some things to my weekly grocery list when I thought about asparagus. Fresh asparagus comes bundled with two thick rubber bands. Perfect for retraining big toes! So, yes, I added that produce to my grocery list just for the rubber bands. Granted, I like asparagus but I also like I finally found a good use for those rubber bands.

That was the most comfortable, inexpensive solution I’d found so far. I stretched those toes while lying on my sofa, reading a book and watching TV. Again, I loved the fact that my feet were unbound while I slept. Plus, when the stretching started to ache, I could relax the stretch for a few minutes and then do another set.

So, after explaining to a friend my homemade remedy to reverse my bunions, she had the brilliant idea to gift me her scrunchies. After all, she’d chopped off her glorious dreadlocks a long time ago and kept her hair somewhere between shaved and a short afro. I’m not sure if it’ll be important in the long run that my toes won’t be separated by as much distance as the previous methods I’ve used, but the scrunchy was definitely the most comfortable.

Juneteenth Celebration & Wonder Woman

For the fourth year, we three came out to read excerpts from a newly emancipated slave’s narrative. We took the usual group photo in our costumes and then…

had the sheer delight of having our pictures taken by a professional! I didn’t have the bandwidth to memorize the few lines of Mattie Gilmore’s narrative, but felt very comfortable emoting the lines to the museum visitors.

When I’d volunteered to participate this year, I had no idea that I’d be in the midst of studying for my property and casualty license. Nonetheless, sacrificing a little study time was totally worth it to remember the people who came before me, who never once dreamed of being an insurance agent.

Before leaving, we had another group picture with all of the historical character interpreters although the seated woman entertained everyone with one of her family stories that had been passed down for generations about the KKK coming to one of her relative’s house to kill him and a mysterious pack of wild dogs confronted the Klan. They’d never seen those dogs before or since that night.

After changing out of our costumes, we dashed over to the newest dinner/movie theatre to see “Wonder Woman.” I asked the guy at the ticket counter to take our picture since we were two Black women who’d actually arrived early.

That was so silly, we asked the bartender to take our picture as well. Then we watched “Wonder Woman.” That movie was so much fun and she’d done so many capoeira kicks, I nearly wanted to start training capoeira again. But not sparring. I never have to spar again! At least not physically.

Free Movie Passes

Although Cinco de Mayo merely reflects the Mexican state of Puebla’s defeat of their French invaders, the American food/beverage business industry has elevated it nearly to the level of a St. Patrick’s Day libation party. This year, Cinco de Mayo landed on a Friday. Another piece of evidence that I’m middle aged is that what I normally like to do on Fridays is exercise, then sip wine with dinner and chill since I survived another week of corporate America.

Yet, due to the Cinco de Mayo celebration, my apartment complex had a free taco bar and margaritas. Perfect timing for someone who’d just worked out. I met a few of my neighbors and spoke with the ladies in the office as I ate. Even in the presence of other people, I still finished my food in the same amount of time as I would have in my apartment, watching TV.

Last month, I’d received a pair of free movie tickets to see a biopic about Emily Dickerson. The friend who I invited to join me originally wanted to go at a 9 PM showing since he wanted to clean his house after work. Then he was invited to a margarita birthday party, which we went to prior to the movie.

The spacious house with hardwood floors brimmed with children playing and adults drinking. In the corner of the room, yet another taco bar awaited. Not the least bit hungry, I made a small sampler plate, starting with fried rice. The real treasure lie in the crock pot. A childhood favorite: spicy cheese dip with stewed tomatoes. Mom always put ground beef in hers, but the meat was in a separate dish.

Then I dove into the margarita bar. I followed the recipe of the night: 1 oz orange liqueur, 1 oz fresh lime juice, 1 oz tequila, splash of water. Seemed more like a tequila shot than anything else. I added a splash of ruby red grapefruit juice for sweetness. I began to feel my alcohol, thanks to the second margarita of the evening.

The birthday girl had turned 40 a few days ago. I welcomed her to the club. I’d never met anyone there before, but many had met one another playing kickball.

After eating, I ventured outside. If I’d thought the inside of the house was child-friendly, the the back yard was paradise. Most of the children were jumping around inside the enclosed trampoline, but there was also a homemade swimming pool, a homemade seesaw, but my personal favorite were the goats.

I forget the kids’ names, but they were both males, had budding horns and occasionally the black one kept mounting the white one. One partygoer made the observation that they had no upper teeth, only bottom teeth, which were very straight and long. I happily explained that some animals who groom themselves had what was called a “tooth comb.” My friend observed that the kids cleaned themselves like cats. Yet cats use their rough tongue and not a tooth comb.

Closer to the time we needed to leave for the movie, I took out the pass I’d printed out. For the first time, I noticed the disclaimer. We could only use it Monday-Thursday. I called the theatre, explained the situation and he told me that it was OK. After hanging up, I told my friend the good news, but admitted I felt that a 16 year-old had given me the green light.

I was right.

The situation turned out to be a little more complicated in person. The teenager working the ticket/concession stand didn’t know how to process the pass. She showed it to another teenager with more seniority who had to get the guy who was around my age to approve it. Originally, he tried to give us shit, pointing out the obvious disclaimer. My friend and I both calmly explained that I’d called ahead to see if it would still be honored and had been told that it would.

The guy told us he’d honor it that one time and walked away. (So, on an extremely slow Friday night, we were probably interrupting his secret porn watching.) We got our drinks and walked into the vastly empty movie theatre. After all, how many people are going to clamor to watch a movie based on Emily Dickerson at 9:10 PM on Cinco de Mayo?

We were two of about twelve people there. The B-movie had some funny, interesting parts. I’d known that Dickerson had never married, but I didn’t realize that she died of “Bright’s disease,” a kidney disorder, which caused her to have back pain and seizures.

What amazed me was even though she had the resources of a rich family, she seemed very leery of marrying since she didn’t want a future husband to take away her writing. Amazing how, after all this time, that’s still a very real sentiment among women, artist or not.

Community Art Sunday

I love spending gorgeous days outside. Although this Community Art Sunday centered around kids, I nourished my inner child as soon as I walked in by blowing bubbles. At least I started off by blowing them. After a few seconds, I just held up the stick and let the strong wind do most of the work.

Next stop was designing my own art advocacy postcard. My heartfelt message was far better than my so-called design:

Only cool thing about that card was the juxtaposition of my finger shadows. Nonetheless, I’ve learned from experience that I can seldom go: 1, 2, 3, DRAW! I’m much better at writing on the spot than drawing on the spot. I normally start off overly ambitious. So I drew very simply, which wasn’t at all interesting to look at, but at least I didn’t spend a lot of time drawing a hideous mess.

Of course, I had to photograph the homemade mermaid costume. Still not sure what her cause was, but I liked the effort.

Here’s another mom of the year, “holding” her son’s pet lizard while he was off playing. Great day to hang out in the sun.

This display made my day since I’d previously thought all bees lived in hives. I’d never heard of solitary bees that made nests.

I participated in a short field trip to visit the Sustainable Food Center’s sponsored community gardens. Now, if only I had the life-giving touch to grow food or any plant for that matter. I thought I’d be more successful with a nearly indestructible plant, but it lasted about 18 months and its dead potted stem has sat on my balcony for much longer than that.

Those raised beds were for people who wanted to garden without bending over.

I discovered a few years ago that I wasn’t, in fact, allergic to bees; so, I left the tour group to go closer to the aviary. Although the glass walls may have given the bees a sense of being enclosed, there wasn’t a ceiling.

This flowered bench was my favorite and actually made me wish I could grow plants. Perhaps when I retire–if that fine day ever comes–I’ll make a sincere gardening effort.

I probably would have left after the garden tour, except I’d heard a designer cake was on its way. These two cake decorators have their own TV show on Food Network. I’d love to catch a glimpse of myself in this episode, which will air some time in July.

At first, I thought they had a parachuting wombat on the cake, which made no sense at all since there aren’t any calico wombats and clearly it was a parachuting cat.

I knew since the whole afternoon was dedicated to kids, I’d have to wait until they and their parents received cake first.

People swarmed the table worse than bees. After a while, I noticed that people who had cake remained milling around the table. One of the women in charge of the event also realized that phenomenon and gently shooed them away. That’s when I made my move.

I’d only seen one episode of their show, but the cake designers oozed passion and joy as they sliced and served their creation.

I had to slow my roll just to take a picture of what I had left of my piece of cake.

I asked a friend who happened to stroll by to take our picture.

Next thing I know, the TV cameras swarmed him. I would have loved it if he had broken out with one of his memorized poetry slam pieces right there on the spot. Instead, he enjoyed both the cake and frosting-covered rice Krispy while answering questions.

After dancing forro with a friend, I called it an afternoon well spent and went home to do some art on my own.

Earth Day Celebration: Great Hills Hike 2

The first time I hiked this area with my Meetup group, we had a pretty relaxed time although the temperature was much hotter. This time around, some people actually bailed for fear of rain. The forecast was “cloudy,” which I pointed out, but not “rain.” Nonetheless, those of us who still met enjoyed the temporary cold front that brought us 68-degree weather and cool breezes. I was the only one in the group who knew it was Earth Day. Spending time in nature is a fantastic way to destress and celebrate the planet.

We crisscrossed those water crossings three times. The first two times because we ended up at the end of the trail in someone’s back yard. The third because, despite three GPSs, we managed to get lost. Each time we crossed, I made sure of my footing, especially my permanently injured left foot, which slid uncontrollably one time. At least I didn’t fall, but it hurt.

At one point, our organizer suggested we take the “urban” trail, which was code for walking along the streets in the residential and commercial areas. Along the urban trail, we finally saw some wildlife. The woman who spotted the deer was a little too loud and animated when she saw them. I whipped out my camera just to capture them fleeing.

We ended up walking five miles instead of the original three miles we’d set out to do. For the first time ever, I had a copper sleeve on my left knee and ankle. Those things made the post hike recovery much more enjoyable, especially when three of us ended up at one of my favorite barbecue restaurants. The two guys wolfed down all of their food, but I had ordered enough to take some home. I don’t usually go out to eat nor take home any leftovers; so I made the visit count and got three more meals out of it. Delicious brisket tacos!

Haiku Death Match

As part of the 25th Austin International Poetry Festival, I hosted my first ever haiku death match. In the beginning, I was only supposed to host my own spoken word and poetry show, The Austin Writers Roulette. Then, I accepted the offer to host and perform for as an opener for Bucolics Anonymous. Later, I agreed to host this event.

I’d half paid attention to the one haiku death match I watched over a year ago. Like a dutiful Virgo, I looked up the rules, typed them into my phone and then left my phone at home, rushing out the door to arrive at the venue early.

I had two different plans in mind just in case I had a slew of participants or if I hardly had any participants. For the former case, I’d have two poets read one haiku each and have the judges vote one of the pair off the stage in a sudden elimination round. Then when I got to the next round, with hopefully no more than 4 poets, I’d allow them to read more than one in the round to allow the judges to award 1st through 3rd place.

The only female participant, Ailana Larson, signed up first.

Followed by Marsh Muirhead, then the host from the previous AIPF event, Chip Ross.

Just when I thought the judges, who were not associated with the festival, had to merely distinguish places among the three poets, a fourth poet threw his monkey wrench into the ring. Steve Kocen wrote all five of his haikus moments before the competition.

In the meantime, I rounded up four chairs and put them on stage. Once both Chip and Steve had finished their poems, I invited the poets to be seated on stage. First, I introduced them. Then I explained the rules: read one haiku per round for five rounds; then, I’d gather the judges and we’d discuss the order of the winners. One thing I failed to mention, because I hadn’t read it in any of the rules, was that each poet would read his/her haiku twice. I guess that’s common sense, but not for me! I’m more of a limerick and free verse kind of poet.

After five rounds…our fourth place winner was Steve Kocen. Now, I’d just so happen to have brought with me some Peace Corps posters, bookmarks and stickers. As a matter of fact, I’d given both Ailana and Marsh stickers for being prepared and the judges bookmarks and stickers for participating as judges. So, it was only fitting that I gave Steve a poster.

Our third place winner was Ailana Larson. She received her medal, certificate and trophy.

Our second place winner received his bling and even gifted me one of his books of haiku. Then, an amazed Chip Ross received his first place bling.

Now that I have successfully hosted my first haiku death match, I suspect I’ll be asked to do that again unless someone else has a burning desire to do so!

Unbound & Reincarnated Opening reception

When I read the description of this art opening, I had to attend. Every single work of art was, in some shape or form, repurposed from the printed word.

These portraits were printed upon book pages.

Another artist had placed 256 words atop the head of nails and fixed them with resin, then bound the nails together. This batch contained English words.

These Spanish nails had the same 256 words.

I would’ve loved to have spoken to this artist who made the erasure poems. I’ve never seen someone transform found objects and turn them into poetry.

The young male-oriented conservative text was turned on its ear. This one reads: “To get somewhere, you’ve got to be willing to give up.”

And this one reads: “By taking advantage of others, you will get a real thrill.”

Part of the reason this collection drew me in was due to my yearlong project to repurpose a vocabulary-building book as an upcoming Christmas gift for one of my nephews. Of course, I had my work-in-progress in my purse. I shared the motivation behind its creation and allowed others to peruse what I’d come up with so far. Most seemed fascinated that I’d cut out so many “cheesecake shots,” as one woman referred to the gentleman magazine pictures of women. When I showed the curator of the gallery collection my work, she enthusiastically agreed she’d take the 12 magazines that I’d cut the pictures from. I returned the next day to donate them since she sponsored a creative room for people to repurpose print material.

Graffiti Park

I met other members of the Art Hikes Meetup at the HOPE (Helping Out People Everywhere) Outdoor Gallery AKA Graffiti Park.

I’d seen pictures of this park and even footage of it in a participatory work at the Austin Short Film Festival a few years ago, but I had no idea it was merely a block west of S. Lamar, near Whole Earth Provisions.

The place oozed a youthful, creative vibe with a range of spray can talent.

If there was anything one considered a masterpiece, the best course of action would have been to take a picture.

Definitely a strong lesson in nothing lasts forever. Enjoy the moment while you have it.

Despite being outside, a hazy spray can paint fog enveloped the park. I kept walking through the fog to find fleeting pockets of fresh air.

Even knowing the resilience of plants, I still felt bad for the grafittied plant, which needed an unpainted surface to photosynthesize.

Among the littered ground, I found a tiny gold ring. We all assumed it must have belonged to a little girl since it barely fit on my pinkie on my non dominant hand. I told the other Meetup members in jest that this was the way to be married–not live with one’s spouse! As it turned out, after several hand washings, the golden paint wore off the metal after two weeks. Pretty symbolic of most of my romantic relationships with the exception that the ring lasted longer.

The park was launched in 2011 with the intention of being a temporary installation where artists of all stripes could express themselves.

My group speculated about the concrete structures that served as the canvas. To me, it looked like a construction site ran out of money.

What I’ve since read online is that it was the remaining foundation of an old building that HOPE, a group dedicated to bringing attention to the turmoil in the Sudan, repurposed.

As much as I enjoyed the views, I was amazed at how many parents allowed their small kids to wander around without holding their hands. The teacher in me became especially nervous when one teenaged girl stood on the ledge while her friend posed like she was pushing her over the edge.

The view from the park revealed the city of Austin as I knew it.

Even the view above the park seemed surreal as if the foundations of a castle lay in the graffitied creative energy of the people.

And no visit to the park would be complete without a classic shot of Castlehill, which serves as everyone’s reference point of how to find the urban stylish park.