Category: Special Events

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.

Periodically, the company I work for hosts a gathering, invites all its call center agents (CCAs) to change out of their pajamas, and leave the cozy confines of their homes to have fun and food. Obviously, I like free food, especially the crazy selection of delicious desserts we had at the end, but what I most looked forward to was crossing laser tag off my bucket list. I’d initially made a beeline to the upstairs of this family playground extravaganza to check it out. There was a long line, but I didn’t see another CCA in line; so I returned downstairs, thinking I should at least fulfill the whole “meet-and-greet” aspect and socialize first.

That plan worked out well since I met another CCA who also wanted to play laser tag. After eating a couple of pieces of pizza and talking, we entered the laser tag line. While waiting in that slow-moving line, I learned that her educational background was in archeology, she’d participated in several digs around the world, and she was also studying for that grueling insurance agent exam like I was.

During our conversation, one little kid, around the age of 8, kept dashing past us for some unknown reason. I said under my breath to my fellow CCA, “I’m going to enjoy shooting that little kid.” Never, outside of the context of laser tag or a water gun fight, would that ever be an acceptable thing to utter.

Once we were close to the entrance, we could see a screen that displayed the do’s and don’ts of laser tagging. Yet there was one image I couldn’t quite figure out what the rule was. A woman with breasts that were far too big for her frame or necessary for the point of conveying some rule stood in front of a kneeling man.
I tried to capture a good shot of this larger-than-life breasts phenomenon, but this was the best I could do. I still don’t know which rule was being depicted. Perhaps, “don’t poke anyone in the eye with your lethally-enhanced nipples”?

There was only one other adult in the arena with us and a bunch of kids. Not too much strategy needed, given who we were up against, especially since my only real competitor was on my team. Yet, I tagged the little kid who’d stepped on my foot in line several times, along with all the other kids. That’s all that really counts in such a mindless game.

For my latest costume endeavor, I set out to make Dorothy shoes after quickly discovering that most prefabricated glittery shoes were either gold or silver. I hit up a couple of thrift stores first. For some silly reason, I thought I needed to start off with a red pair of shoes, but in reality, they could have been any color since I’d planned to completely cover them in glitter.

Thanks to the six metal pins in my left ankle that foot is slightly bigger than the other; so I had to humanely stretch the left shoe with something other than my foot.  Of all the methods I’d read about, I liked the “plastic bag of water, placed in the shoe, then in the freezer” method the best. Not only does water expand, but it also molds itself into the proper shape. Apparently, my downfall was once I’d taken it out of the freezer, I’d let the water melt too much, staining the shoe. Not really a problem in the long run since glitter would cover it.

Painter’s tape covered the bottom and heels of the shoes since those parts didn’t need to be glued and glittered.

I’d set everything out on the balcony before I began. Unlike every other video I’d watched, I sprayed on adhesive rather than painting on a thick glue.

The plastic bowl captured most of the fallen glitter and the spoon helped re-sprinkle the shoes. Almost too late, I remembered to stuff the shoes with newspaper. Although not a perfect solution, stuffed shoes helped minimize the amount of loose glitter entering the shoe.

By the time I finished glueing, glittering and shellacking those shoes, my flip-flops were glued onto my feet! Another good reason NOT to use spray adhesive. At least the glitter stuck to the shoes with glossy acrylic finish to hold it in place.

A bag of these little gems were on sale. I never understood what drives a sale at a crafts store, but I’m not complaining about saving money. I hot glued them on for some additional flair.

They looked so beautiful, I feared they’d hurt my feet. That’s the women’s fashion industry at play. Anything that’s sexy for women has to hurt or cause discomfort. Yet, the only challenge to wearing those Dorothy shoes was tracking loose glitter everywhere.

 Once I had them on, I was free to follow the yellow brick road!

We met at the Stevie Ray Vaughn statue along Lady Bird Lake to take a night hike around 8:30.

This was late enough for the heat to subside, but there was still sunlight. As we walked eastward along the trail, I heard the sound of a crowd of people, smelled a familiar stench then came upon the famous South Congress bridge where somewhere upwards of 1.5 million Mexican free-tailed bats were heading out for their nightly feeding.

Of course my camera phone wasn’t fast enough to capture the bats. We dwelled at this spot for about 15 minutes before continuing on.

Here was another beautiful sight: Austin at night behind Lady Bird Lake. A view so gorgeous even my camera phone captured a lot of it.

Once again, showing the limitations of aforementioned camera phone, I snapped a picture of a guy pointing his phone to the heavens to identify stars and planets, thanks to an app.

From this view, Joe’s Crab Shack actually looks inviting–not some place that’ll give you five different fried things on a plate with no vegetables!

We concluded our hike around 10:30. Three of us went to Whataburger, which turned out to be Whatabadidea! The service was exceptionally slow for a FAST food joint and the average customer at that time of night was 20-something and inebriated. I swore digesting that poor-quality food made me feverish around 3 AM.  Some older yogi friends assured me it was a hot flash.  (Yeah, a hot flash triggered by barely edible poison! But at my age, hot flashes are on the not-so-distant horizon.)

Nonetheless, that little excursion satisfied both my needs for a hike for a while and for fast food for the rest of my life!

For a third year in a row, I participated in the Carver Museum’s 100% Fundraiser. We local artists pick up art supplies from the museum, decorate the canvas however we please, then return them for a silent auction.

Every time I see my submission, all I remember is how I had the flu while doing it.  I marvel it looks this good!

For some reason, my painting, which I titled, “She Sees Her Target,” was given the lackluster title of “untitled.”

Yet, the real point of this whole endeavor isn’t to placate my ego, but to raise money for the museum’s educational program.
I’m happy to report that at least one person, my supervisor, bid on my painting; so at least my feverish efforts weren’t in vain.

One of my cousin’s roommates had the ultimate birthday party, mixing a crowd of capoeiristas, samba dancers and musicians, and pagode musicians and singers. I had the perfect gag gift: a partially-filled canister of pillow packs of lubricant. Every February, I get a donation of adult goodies from La Rouge for the Austin Writers Roulette. I’d given away all the vibrating cock rings and genitalia-shaped chocolates; so this was the perfect opportunity to off load the rest. Besides, since three bachelors live together, I figure, if nothing else, they could upgrade their self-serve.

My cousin, in the middle, suggested we take this dreadlock-centric picture. How often do a group of people purposely turn their backs to the camera to show the beauty of their natural hair rather than smiling faces?

We were all still reeling from the untimely death of Prince. I’m glad this woman paid tribute to His Royal Badness. 

Another charismatic friend, who’d just gotten off from work and had no chance to change, took the time to pose!

I’d hoped the Blackzilians (Black Brazilians) group were based in Austin, but they’re located somewhere in Florida. At least this capoeira teacher lives here!

As expected, toward the end of the night, the birthday boy gathered his pagode group for a live performance.