For the past couple of birthdays, I’ve posed with my yoga teacher while wearing my tiara before class.  This was the first time I had a teacher who could truly sing. As a birthday gift, she quickly sang “Happy Birthday” during a third set of camel.As soon as I finished my yoga class, I jetted to one of my favorite movie theatres and arrived in time to order my libations, including an adult shake–chocolate reposado and enjoyed “Searching.”Afterwards, I made my way home during the start of rush hour traffic, mostly to regroup for a happy hour gathering at a swanky hotel downtown, but also to put my Bikram yoga funk ladened mat of its misery in the washing machine.

For this particular happy hour, the sponsors of the event brought together the international crowd from different do-gooder organizations. As mixed as that crowd was, I was the only one with a tiara.  Adding to the ensemble, I pulled my recently polished silver chalice out of my purse and placed it on the bar.

The New York bartender gave not a flying fuck that it was my birthday. Even when I told him what I was celebrating, he put his palms in the air and said, “Look, I just got here. No one’s told me anything.” [Although we Southerners considered his manner abrupt and rude, I’ve learned that New Yorkers consider that normal behavior.]

Strange reaction, but I told him that I wanted some sweet dessert cocktail and suggested a Butter Baby, which is Baileys and Butterscotch.  Again, he was dismissive, but said he’d hook something up. Among the things he put into my birthday cocktail was horchata, Frangelico, vanilla flavored vodka and seems like there was another ingredient.

At the end of the evening, my friend gifted me a bottle of Malbec, my favorite genre of red.

Since I believe in celebrating my birthday more than one day, I attended the opening reception of three women artists who all depicted strong women–real, fictional, and fictionalized real women.

The gallery owner’s husband burst out laughing when I pulled my silver chalice out of my purse.  As usual, they had a small libation table, which included red wine. I posed in front of one of the many Frida Kahlo paintings. This particular one was executed by an artist who had spoken at my show, The Austin Writers Roulette, a couple of times.  She juxtaposed Frida’s husband’s work (Diego Rivera) in the background with Frida in the foreground looking at peace.

One of my heroes, Gov. Ann Richards, who on paper, was the second woman to be governor of Texas, but for those of us who know history, Richards was the first.  Gov. Miriam “Ma” Ferguson appeared to be the surrogate governor for her husband who could no longer legally hold office.

In the years I’ve lived in Texas, I’ve witnessed people of color being priced out of housing due to unchecked rising prices and women having a diminished amount of control over our reproductive rights. I predict the rise of more powerful women such as Gov. Richards. Hopefully that’s more than a birthday wish.

For the past two months, I’ve been researching the feasibility of buying my own place. Seems like a premature endeavor since I barely have two spare pennies to rub together, but this new insurance job that I have is promising.

Nonetheless, one thing I concluded early on is that I didn’t want a house.  I thought perhaps a townhome or condo would suit me just fine.  Too bad they’re all out of my price range, especially in the new area where I wanted to move.

Enter tiny homes.  For the amount I thought I could purchase a condo, seems as if that’s tiny home prices. That’s why I pounced on the opportunity to attend the Tiny Home Jamboree.  I wanted to see what was available in this market, so I went with a friend, who’s actually a homeowner, but wanted to put a tiny home in the lot adjacent to her property and use it as an office.

Unfortunately, the weather reached around 106, so we slowly roasted as we checked out the tiny homes, starting with the DIY ones outside the Travis County Expo gate.This guy’s short bus had a Radio Flyer theme, complete with an actual Radio Flyer wagon in front.

I thought it was a little dangerous to have the bed next to the stove, but still it was otherwise a great use of space.

He even had a little dining table on the other side of the stove and the compost toilet was behind me in this picture.

Before attending this event, I had a bias against buses, but all the wood paneling added warmth to the ambience and won me over.

This was one of the biggest buses in the DIY lot. I thought it must be horrendous to drive this monster.

Yet, check out the full kitchen and pantry!

I really liked the bathroom area since I could stand in the shower.

Plus, there was a compostable toilet, which was a popular model.

This rustic homey DIY had to be pulled by a truck.

Again, I took bathroom shots since I don’t plan to be off the grid as far as some campers were, but many people enjoyed the fact that they had no home base and could see the country while driving along with their home.

Although I want my future tiny home to be in one place, I still appreciated the functional use of space in most of the mobile designs.

This guy, who I nicknamed “Shaggy,” owned a van that was painted as a jungle of marijuana leaves with his stove hitched on the inside of the van door.

This was the first DIY I actually visualized myself living in. Those wide steps were very sturdy and I liked the kitchen area along with dining table/workspace to the side of it.

I felt comfortable climbing the stairs to see the sleeping area.

I also liked the view of the kitchen and dining/work table from the stairs.

This was the only bus I’d seen with a club-footed bathtub. Yet it was in the kitchen without any privacy!

This family did have a private toilet area, but that “public” tub left something to be desired, like a wrap around shower curtain!

I liked how the tiny house from landlocked Colorado reminded me of a ship. The owner said that that wasn’t their intention in the beginning, but it morphed into ship.

The copper floor was made out of thousands of pennies, adding to the penny shortage, no doubt. This was the most elegant tub among all the tiny houses.

Compared to the rest of the home, this sink was surprisingly plain.

The area above the bathroom reminded me of the bow of a ship.

For this model, although I liked the full kitchen with the bathroom behind, I wasn’t  so sure about the sleeping quarters being above the kitchen, especially with the spices I use! And that ladder didn’t look middle aged woman-friendly.

Here’s another spacious tiny home I visualized myself living in. Not only were there twin mattresses and one queen-sized mattress upstairs with middle aged woman-friendly stairs leading to them, but a full bathroom and large bedroom in the back.  Is it possible for a tiny home to have too much room? 

So apathy, overheating and hunger worked against me taking many other pictures, but this wraparound wet bar spoke to me.  I loved the elegant arrangement of the storage space. More practical people can have a dining area instead of this wet bar, but “dining area” can be anywhere one eats. A wet bar on the other hand…

I had no idea what to expect from attending my very first tea sit.  It certainly wasn’t advertised as a “tea party,” in which case I would have been compelled to wear the one frumpy-looking hat I owned. Even when I googled “tea sit,” no such a thing existed.  How could that be? Everything that popped up consisted of how long to allow tea to brew.

As I pulled into the steep driveway, lined by lush trees and other foliage, and branched in opposite directions, I saw a gathering of women already seated on the porch.  Another woman and I were the last two to arrive, making a satisfying total of eight. Enough people to make the conversation rich, but small enough for everyone to be heard.

The UT graduate student who conducted the tea sit had several tea cups that held perhaps four sips of tea, so it was more for whetting one’s whistle than quenching one’s thirst. And like all events where no electronic devices are involved, time slowed down.

The hostess informed us that she liked arranging these teas because she wanted to create groups where people had self-renewing care mechanisms in place to address well-being. My takeaway from the gathering was that she wished to create a means for people to exit the rat race where it’s a constant battle, mentally and physically.

We were a multiracial group of women where none of us were mothers, whether child-free by choice or childless by circumstances. We all acknowledged that we could pour our time and energy into child-rearing or practically everything else that needed creative energy.

In addition to discussing self-care, we discussed, inevitably, our immersion into the toxic political climate, especially how the dominant narrative reacts to changing circumstances. Despite how “changing demographics are being foisted on the American people,” a nonsensical statement in reality since the demographics are a reflection of what’s happening in American society, Americanism in this case was use synonymously with “White.”

The alarm was sounded because American society appears browner over time, yet, looking at congress and other positions of power, there is still an overrepresentation of Whites; but the drum beat of the mid-term elections promises to diversify at least the political demographics.

So the constant challenge remains how to achieve both personal balance with one’s daily life as well as navigating through the changes happening all around us.