Category: Special Events

A 2/3 replica of Stonehenge exists a mere two hours outside of Austin. Yet, the first structure to greet our adventurous Meetup group was a Moai.

We’d all piled into the organizer’s Honda Fit and rode comfortably to the location. For a group of strangers, we gelled quite well politically, which was good because the car was packed and there wouldn’t have been anywhere to hide!

Hard to believe that the real Stonehenge is 1/3 bigger than this replica since, at least in my mind, they tower like mountains in all the pictures I’ve seen. I would’ve loved to have heard more about the speculated use of Stonehenge on a guided tour at this scaled down version.

Our organizer, a Texas history buff, kept us well entertained on the drive there and back, but we all scattered to explore the destination grounds individually.

Besides arithmetic, I love algebra and geometry.  The aesthetically and mathematically arranged stones, together with their shape,  made this such a peaceful place to visit.

I imagined attending a spoken word/storytelling event in that beautiful space.

Even the Moai inspired me to ponder dialogue I’d write for them.

The outdoor theatre surprised me. I’d seen the indoor theatre on my way to the bathroom, but that outdoor one took advantage of the beautiful surroundings.

As much as this creative compound offered, an art gallery and a facility for workshops and classes shared the space.

Not only was the ladle tree shiny, but it moved in two directions, which looked fascinating when it got going.

I didn’t see a description for this woman, but I felt she projected melancholy, given the lack of rain.

Sight on seen, I liked the blue wine bottles since I’m a red-wine wino, myself! Then I read the description.

I’d never heard of this Congolese tradition of trapping evil spirits near graveyards into bottles. 

I had actually expected to eat lunch before we’d visited the site; so I was too ready for this restaurant!  I should’ve heeded the banner advertising “Puffy Tacos.” I ordered the sampler plate, which included one mouth-watering puffy taco, but honestly, everything was delicious, including the margarita and lively conversation. 

Apparently, I’d obsessed about food and hunger too much to notice the model car collection at the register near the front door. We rode into the sunset, heading back to Austin. That day trip was just what the doctor ordered as far as mitigating my February blues.

As we approached the African American museum, I thought of an inverted step pyramid. My sister informed me that the design was inspired by an African headdress. Whichever the case, I loved the stylish modernity of this ancient shape.

The first time I’d ever visited the Washington monument as a child, we only celebrated Black History Week. Now, we had Black History month and the Washington monument served as good landmark for the African American museum. We were very optimistic about our wait time since there was no line at the door. 

In fact, the woman at the information desk had told us that we would have to spend 22 hours to see everything. The four upper levels were dedicated to some aspect of community and  culture. I knew I wouldn’t be able to see everything. I especially wanted to see the more historical parts, which were housed three floors below the main level. We only waited 35 minutes, versus 60, to “go back in time” as we descended into the 1400s by  elevator.

I snapped a picture of this photo collage that decorated the stairs. I definitely remember when, then presidential candidate, Bill Clinton, played his sax on the Arsenio Hall show back when I was a senior in college; I hadn’t seen the Oprah episode when she interviewed writer Toni Morrison; nor was I alive when actress Marsha Hunt made the iconic Afro statement in the stage production of “Hair.” 

The first of many ironies I discovered involved sugar. Slave labor produced 90% of the world’s sugar in 1787. That “ingredient” still plagues many black and working poor communities today, from the contribution to a bad diet to diabetes.

I spent far more time reading the captions and blurbs aloud, which were scattered among the artifacts and photos, than taking photos of my own. This was mainly to help my vision-impaired sister, but also, I wanted to be more engaged in the exhibit than to document it. So, we passed through several areas dealing with the transportation of slaves and I was surprised that Portugal, at an estimated 5.8 million slaves, had transported the most.

My sister thought that made perfect sense because DNA testing showed part of our ancestry was Portuguese. As if it was not horrifying enough to be subjected to the harsh conditions of the Middle Passage, but to then be raped and impregnated as well.

Cotton, one of the slave labor cash crops that my family, black  friends, and I often use as the motivation to succeed in life so we won’t have to pick it to survive, had its shrine as well.

The next level up in the gallery dealt with post slavery. Just as I was telling my family that the first rise of the klan occurred during this time period, we saw a section dedicated to that group. The exhibit didn’t go into depth about how the newly freed slaves caused poor whites to lose status.

One of my favorite pictures was of a mother and daughter who sat on the court steps with a newspaper, which had screaming headlines about desegregating schools.

Inevitably, everyone desires the American dream of freedom to thrive in this land of opportunity; so we black women have also fought to be heard. 

One of many powerful black women, Angela Davis has spent her entire life as an activist educator and writer. I use the word “activist” rather than “radical” because I don’t think there’s anything radical about wanting to be free. That’s just common sense, for which some people are feared and given negative labels.

Just to prove how I was more invested in experiencing my visit than making a photographic record of it, I inadvertently chopped off some of Obama’s quote, but I’ve typed it in its entirety here: “Change will not come if we wait for some other person or…some other time.  We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.  We are the change that we seek.” 

That statement resonated with me because it dovetails beautifully with both my independent nature and my newfound desire to remain on the right side of natural selection.The only thing I’d add to Ms. Giovanni’s statement is, “The worse person to lie to is yourself.” Even though I’m an analytical person, I’m just as prone to “confirmation bias” as anyone else. That’s when it’s very useful to keep my eyes on the prize and strive for as much greatness as I can, given the situation.

I braved the unknown in the dark to find our meeting place for this mid-week night hike along Lady Bird Lake, starting on the East side.  Although the organizer set the rendezvous point at a place that would be closed by the time we got there, in FRONT of that place was an international hostel that was well lit and accessible by GPS. Yet, I parked a block and a half away because I wasn’t sure of where the meeting place was. Fortunately, I saw a group of people standing to the side of the hostel, looking awkward, which emboldened me to ask if they were the meetup hiking group. 

We were a small, eclectic group with whom I found common ground. I knew right off the back that one woman was from Egyptian descent. Another woman had just moved from NC, my home state. One guy had both a sales and engineering background; so of course I made my attempt to recruit him and planned to send him the official referral link. One woman and I had the same game plan of strategically parking a block and a half away where there were streetlights and no danger of parking violations. 

Our representative dog was an energetic, year-old puppy, Roanoke. As much as I liked the calm look in his eyes, I didn’t want to get pounced upon without warning.  People switched out walking him, although they had to brace themselves for the sudden bursts of running and pouncing.

Since we started on the East side, we ended at a prime location on the West side–the Stevie Ray Vaughn statue. One guy had never heard of him.  We all encouraged him to look him up on YouTube. We double timed it back to starting point. It’s like we all had the same idea to wrap things up and go back home.

As beautiful as the sky was, this picture didn’t capture the 95-degree heat with the 45% humidity in the middle of October. Of all the times not to bring a hat!

This was the least amount of foliage on any hike I’ve done so far. Coupled with the lack of foliage, there was also very little water. So, I posed on one of the randomly placed wooden tables in lieu of a watery background.

Also unlike previous hikes, we made a 5-mile trek instead of our usual 4-mile hike. Thank goodness the terrain didn’t have any steep parts. My knees felt pretty good the next morning. Yet those damn loose rocks were nearly the death of me.  One guy, who had planned to go hiking with us, had rolled his ankle on a loose rock while walking his dog. Fortunately, none of my loose-rock trips resulted in anything more than a brief stumble and cursing.

So of course this was meant to be a fabulous hike with two superheroes on the scene.

My schedule finally allowed me to participate in this hiking, walking and socializing meetup.The organizer usually plans a hike every two weeks or so, but I can only make it, so far, every couple of months.

From this view, my dreads and Superwoman T-shirt blend in like Clark Kent.

There I am! In all my glory. The “S” on my chest stands for “Spectacular”!  I had a terrific time on a beautiful day, talking to some interesting people.  Just look at that blue sky and verdant vegetation.

At one point, we came to a fenced off area where endangered species resided. Although the biggest word and irony on this sign was  “Welcome,” the imposing rules, especially the “hiking in a group of three people of less [should be fewer!],” weren’t welcoming at all. I understood the motivation, but all those rules motivated us to brainstorm how to get around them.

Even our organizer was tempted to divide us up in groups of three.

Yet, a couple of members had brought their dogs. In the end, we stayed together, leaving the preserved part for another time.

Inevitably, we arrived at a loose rocky steep part.  This part reminded me of the 1000 Steps of Redemption when I descended Mt. Sinai.  I’ve yet to buy my walking stick. I had to crab walk my way down instead. 

I especially wanted a walking stick for watery crossings.  I followed another woman around the long way to cross this stream. At least I stayed mostly dry.  A handful of people took off their footwear and crossed barefoot.

The mini waterfalls were delightful to see. I enjoy hikes that have a variety of scenery.

However, we spent far more time ogling this watery driveway. According to the four mailboxes on the same side of the road, adjacent to the driveway, as many as four families cross this safety hazard. That would be a stopper for me as a potential homeowner, but a couple of guys speculated they would just buy an all-terrain vehicle.

I was so happy not to cross another waterway nor ascend steep rocky steps when we turned around at this point and arrived safely to the parking lot where I reunited with my car.  That was the perfect alternative workout for my left hip and leg–my challenge areas.

The great sacrifice of three T-shirts, a pair of pants, a bath towel and wash cloth created my latest handmade costume for the spoken word and poetry show which I produce, The Austin Writers Roulette. Although I wore green shorts to complete look, I didn’t change them.

To make the chameleon eyes, I traced circles onto two different-colored T-shirts.

Then, I made the first two of nineteen pillows, starting with the eyes. This headpiece was the top part of a pair of pants. Whenever I modify clothing to make a costume, I try as much as possible to retain the original stitching and design since that results in less hand sewing on my part. So, I stuffed the pockets with polyfill until they bulged and sewed the eyes on top. 

For the chameleon’s tail, I combined the pant legs. When I researched how to make the tail curl, I quickly abandoned the idea of using a wire. Instead, I stuffed it with polyfill, then sewed the curl into the tail.

Years ago when I bought two green towels with washcloths, they actually matched. Using a template, I traced thirteen squares. I liked the contrast of the towel pieces versus the washcloth pieces.

Hand-sewing those thirteen triangular pillows was another story. I sewed up one side, stuffed in polyfill, and then gave myself hand cramps holding them while sewing the third side.  Even with pins to keep the pillows shut, I still experienced hand strain.

Three of the scale pillows decorated the headpiece while the remaining ten decorated the back of the T-shirt.  The magical moment arrived when I sewed the tail onto the bottom of the shirt. 

Topping off my look, the most expensive part of the whole ensemble, the $15 green lipstick!  The best thing about that pricey lipstick was its staying power.

I love to get the most mileage out of all my handmade costumes.  So when one of my three part-time jobs hosted a costume contest, I dressed as a chameleon and posed with my call center agent stuff.

I didn’t realize I’d have to submit the pictures via FB. I’ve resisted using FB all this time and certainly wasn’t going to join just for something like this–as cute as the idea may be. Fortunately, a coworker helped me out and posted the pictures for me. I hope to win some trick-or-treat money!

On the eve of my 46th birthday, I picked Mom up from the airport. She’d come to celebrate both of our birthdays, hers being three days after mine, attend my art reception for The Adventures of Infinity & Negativa: An Adult Fairy Tale, and participate in the spoken word and storytelling event I produce, The Austin Writers Roulette.

She’s one of the funniest people I know even when she’s not trying. Check out the reading glasses propped on top of the shades while checking her FLIP phone! In true Virgo practicalness, she told me, “At least I can see what I’m doing.”

I whisked Mom’s luggage upstairs to my apartment while she waited in the car since she wanted to minimize the amount of walking up and down the stairs. Anytime she had to walk up and down those stairs she’d groan, “These stairs will beat you down.”

Then, I took her to several places to buy a wig. At the first two, she didn’t even try one on, but at this shop, the owner and I convinced Mom to try on a couple.

I was happy that she’d finally abandoned that rolling-up-the-hair madness after about 60 years of doing so. Growing up, I’d always heard my maternal grandmother say a woman’s hair is her crown and glory. Mom certainly takes that very seriously. Perhaps too seriously. I believe what’s going on underneath the hairstyle is far more important than the hairstyle itself.

Throughout her wig trials, she kept asking me if I was taking her picture and I kept saying no.

Since I normally keep my phone on vibrate, it soundlessly took pictures.

But who would want to miss the moment when their mother got a new do?

Or in Mom’s case, a new glorious crown? And for what became a ubiquitous sight, Mom sitting somewhere, talking on the phone.

I sported my Superwoman T-shirt and tiara for my 46th birthday. Although I couldn’t do my job with my tiara on, I’d internalized the royalty.

After work, Mom and I walked over to the fitness center. Notice how she wore her athletic shoes, but quickly settled onto a seat, with her phone, a recipe I’d printed out for her at the nearby business center and some ads when I’d checked the mailbox en route. Mom badmouthed me to whomever she was talking to since we’d walked over. Honestly, Mom has no problem walking when she’s shopping, but balks at walking to work out.

She’d managed to get off the phone for a few minutes to lift a few weights, but nothing too serious. Still, just before we left, Mom wiped down the two pieces of equipment she’d used. I teased her that she was merely removing her fingerprints since she hadn’t broken out into a sweat. 

For my birthday dinner, we ate at The Buenos Aires Cafe. Since it’s especially known for its empanadas and beef, we shared a veggie and a spicy beef empanadas. Mom indulged in the seafood platter. She no longer buys, cooks nor orders seafood because Dad has developed a shellfish allergy.

  Although we split a chocolaty dessert, Mom and I stuffed down another chocolaty dessert, courtesy of our waiter. 

The day after my birthday, Mom and I went swimming. Of course she does everything in style! We went to an outdoor pool, where Mom did her water aerobic exercises while I swam a half mile.

The following day, someone knocked on the door.  To our surprise, one of my sisters had balloons, chocolate-dipped strawberries and fruit delivered.

That delivery happened right on time. I was on my lunch break, which started off with two dipped strawberries.

I let Mom wrestle with the balloons and plastic to get to the fruit. I polished off lunch with a slice of pineapple.

By good fortune, I got off work early, so I took Mom to one of my favorite BBQ places. Whenever I bring a visitor, I make sure to let the staff know. They welcomed Mom, allowed her to sample some things, but I already knew I would order a pound of extra moist brisket, some creamed corn and jalapeno sausage. Mom also wanted cole slaw, which went well with our brisket sandwiches.

I tried to take a picture of Mom with food on the table without her chewing, but that never happened. After a while, I put away my camera phone and dug in as well.

After eating, we went outside to see the peacocks. They were nowhere to be seen. Perhaps the heat had them in hiding.

Following dinner, we went to the mall, which was nearby despite the throes of rush hour traffic. Better to walk off dinner than to sit in traffic. Of course, since we were shopping, Mom had no complaints about walking. Before going home, we stopped by a grocery store since Mom wanted more fresh produce for her morning smoothies.

I picked us up a treat that had been recommended to me by a cashier: chile pepper pecan ice cream! One of Mom’s all-time favorite ice creams was butter pecan. This took that flavor to a different level.

For Mom’s birthday dinner, we ate at Hi Hat. I didn’t remember seeing this drum kit chandelier before. 

One of the reasons I chose this restaurant was it was in walking distance of the gallery. Once again, Mom complained about having to walk “so far” to get to the restaurant. When I reminded her of how she’d walked much farther at the mall, she replied, “But that was SHOPPING.” I told her it was all psychological and reminded Mom she should be happy she still has the ability to walk.

The women whom I’d invited to perform dramatic readings for four of the paintings, showed up at least an hour ahead of the performance–my usual curtain call.   

The two dramatic readers, who read the part of “Infinity,” both wore the character’s signature color, purple.

Continuing Mom’s 76th birthday celebration, she held court in the back of the art gallery. Before the dramatic reads began, I secured a chair for her in the middle of the room, so she could be in the thick of the action. To introduce the readings, I first stated that I’d chosen Saturday, September 10th for the date of the reception since it was Mom’s birthday.  I didn’t lead the crowd in singing “Happy Birthday” to her, but everyone applauded. 

At the end of the night, we cleaned up the food, candy and alcohol. Mom drained the drink dispenser of its apple martini. I imagined this was how she milked cows on her family’s farm.

For Mom’s last evening, we ate at a local coffee shop and also attended a weekly artist workshop. Mom mostly drank water and smoothies while she visited with me.  I managed to take one picture of her sipping my margarita.

By the time I dropped Mom off at the airport early the next morning, she actually was high–from that wonderful feeling of a vacation well spent.