One of the best things about having an outgoing personality is my ability to make friends wherever I show up. I’d arrived at the venue relatively early just to get a good parking space. I ended up getting a good table as well. However, none of the friends I’d hoped to invite to sit with me showed up.  All was not a loss. I simply made new friends.

We’d all taken dance lessons at Esquina at one point or another. So, we all had that much in common. Beyond that, most of us worked for nonprofits. Most importantly, they all came set with plenty of red wine to share.  How could we not become fast friends–at least for the night?

Beyond wine-induced happiness, we all were surrounded by a festive mood, good live and recorded music and lots of dancing. We warmed up with a little tango, but the party really came alive when the salsa/cumbia band started playing.

I’ve often regarded tango as a high-brow dance whereas salsa and cumbia were more for the ordinary folk. Plus, the rules change. Women don’t have to wait to be asked to dance like tango. I readily pounced on the opportunity to ask male friends to dance and made new dance partner friends as well.

Since “free” continues to be my favorite price, I visited three museums for Austin’s annual free museum day. Initially, I was disappointed a temporary installation had not arrived at the first museum. Nonetheless, I went upstairs and this sign rewarded my efforts.  A few months ago, I declared myself an adult fairy tale writer. Since then, I’ve been reading several critical works about the fairy tale structure, including my current thick book, which is Maria Tatar’s annotated collection of the Grimm Brothers’ fairy tales. My “discovery” of this haunting collection felt like the fairies rewarding me for faithfully climbing all those stairs despite my initial disappointment.

I was the resident expert, giving a brief summary of some of the lesser known fairy tales that were represented such as “Six Swans.” Catacorner to the first museum I’d visited was my second stop. One vendor’s table had an interactive artists’ board. They invited the public to write our favorite Austin thing on a rectangular swatch of cloth with a fabric pen and/or permanent marker. I used a silvery pen on my chosen swatch, adding my creation to the board. Then I toured the temporary exhibit about a failed French colony off the Texas Gulf coast.

Even though I enjoyed hearing the story of the La Belle via the short video lesson, my perfectionist thoughts about the unreadable Austin Writers Roulette sign preoccupied me. I finished viewing the special exhibits room then added more to my AWR sign. I’ll just see if that increases my audience.

At my third and final museum visit, I’d just missed the drumming, but still enjoyed the installation, which consisted mostly of broken tile mosaics on a box with some intact square tiles that had been painted on. The artist’s other works were wall-sized pieces, depicting racially charged scenes, involving law enforcement, minority males and white supremacy.

In another part of the museum, teens who had entered or who were at high-risk of entering the system were given the opportunity to write poetry, create songs, take pictures and make paintings to bring their narrative to the public. Juxtaposed with those creative works were annotated statistical facts about marginalized youth who had a higher probability of entering the system rather than a wraparound service during their school years.

All in all, I felt the day just reconfirmed my chosen path of combining my art with teaching.

Very early in the morning on Labor Day 1970 in Okinawa, Japan, Velma Roberson woke up and alerted her husband, Karl, that their third (and who turned out to be last) baby was coming. Rushing to the hospital, they saw the MPs (military police) and stopped to ask them for an escort to the hospital. 

Sirens blaring, they arrived at the military hospital in record time where nurses waited with a wheelchair for Velma. About 30 minutes later at 5:56 AM, Velma birthed Teresa Yvonne, three days before her own 30th birthday.And the adventure continues!

Saturday: Dinner & A Play

My mother sent me a small package with a long black dress and a fancy colorful top a few days before my 45th birthday. Wonderful! Now I didn’t have to decide what to wear for two out of three days of my long weekend birthday celebration.  Of course, I wore my tiara all three days. On the first night of celebration, I invited friends to meet me at a small theatre/bar complex, which rented space to a most delicious Italian food trailer.  

Don’t let the paper plate and plastic cutlery fool you: this food was ridiculous!  I braved the “coddled” egg. The creaminess of a raw egg made risking salmonella worth it.

Two friends met for dinner and of all things we could have talked about during this festive occasion, I chose to regale them with some factoids I learned from Orlando Patterson’s Slavery and Social Death. Perhaps the greatest unknown fact to me was that the British carried over 15,000 American slaves back with them when they lost the revolution since they’d promised them freedom for fighting with the red coats.

Another friend showed up, but only for the one-women show. Even though she’d missed dinner, she bought me a second goblet of Malbec.  I’m not sure if the venue always pour that much or we were fortunate to have a heavy-handed bartender that particular night, but I had no complaints!

We waited after the show, to congratulate the one-woman performer herself, who’d blown us all away. Granted, she’s the three time national female slam poet. I informed my friends this would be the last time we’d be lucky to see her perform for a mere $10.

Of course, I had to take a picture with the artist herself. I want the world to know I knew her before they did! I congratulated her for much deserved success. It’s challenging enough to live through what she had and another thing to invite family, friends and strangers in to witness a poetic summary of it.

Sunday: Open Mic Night

Several of my poet friends participate in a Sunday open mic from 7:30 to 10 PM. One friend in particular, carries a small bag of reading glasses. I told him I was officially ready for my first pair of “cheater readers,” as my latest eye doctor called them.

Although both pairs made the print world easier to read, I thought these were less birth control looking than the other pair. The best part was these fit comfortably over my regular glasses when my eyes tire at home.

I certainly didn’t need corrective lenses to see this gorgeous meat trio pizza and glass of Malbec. Yet another Italian dish for the second celebration of my birthday.

This young singer dedicated a Beyonce song to me.

Then another poet friend and the open mic hosts led the room in singing “Happy Birthday” to me. The hilarious part came when only 5 people knew my name.  The hosts had been referring to me as “Birthday Princess” the whole time up to that point.

Another friend split the infamous “ying-yang” cake with me, which was a chocolate-rich and creamy dessert one should only eat once a year.

Wearing my princess tiara and mother-gifted girlie top, I read one of my infamous classics: “How Men Blow Fellatio.”

Afterwards, I back led another poet through a slow dance while a saxophonist played.

Monday: Detox & Retox

I only had three brave friends who said they’d detox with me on Labor Day at the free 10 AM bikram yoga class prior to brunch. Merely one friend had arrived by the time we posed with the instructor for a “before” picture.

However, everyone was present for the “after” picture.

Joined by two more friends, a fabulous all-you-care-to eat buffet and the most impressive collection of tequilas, we had a terrific time retoxing.

We started with a mimosa, two of which, came with our buffet. I’d eaten brunch here several times before, but I’d never known there was an option of three fruity flavors: orange, cranberry and pineapple. I started out with pineapple and followed up with cranberry.

One friend, who arrived by bus so she could fully enjoy the whole retox experience, ordered a tequila flight.

I’d saved a tiny bit of room for dessert: a churro, ice cream and cherry cobbler.

After dessert, our server asked me if I liked “sweet” and “chocolate.” Of course I answered “yes” to both questions. Moments later, she brought out a chocolate infused tequila. At that point, my friends sang “Happy Birthday.”

One friend followed up with Stevie Wonder’s version of “Happy Birthday;” so I chair danced to it.

Finally, I got to sip my drink. That’s right, sip! I’d lived in Mexico for three years and never once saw a Mexican shoot tequila. They sipped and enjoyed their drink like cultured people. (I love how the guy in the background does not look the least impressed.)

The Aftermath

I’d written this message on my white board, alerting my Adult Basic Education students to the fact that school was closed on Monday. Although most people assumed Labor Day had given us the long weekend, my students were privy to the real deal. When I returned to school on Tuesday, I had a post birthday wish. As much as I love having a day off, the rest of the week was thrown off.  Thank goodness the weekend wasn’t too far away.

One of my favorite local art galleries had an opening reception on a day I actually had nothing planned. Disregarding my first impulse to go alone, I turned this into a meetup outing. Although four other people were supposed to join me, I knew to expect just half of them. I was rather impressed that the two who didn’t show up actually changed their reservations ahead of time.

I arrived at the venue much earlier than necessary. I like to avoid being a hypocrite. When hosts are late and/or not visible when members arrive, a lot of confusion and bad vibes start off the night. The two women who made it had no trouble finding me since I messaged I’d wear a fuschia dress and would probably be the only black woman with dreads.

I do not understand abstract paintings although I like bright colors, especially red and purple.Yet how does one tell a good abstract from a bad abstract?  Is it purely emotional response when you first look at the painting?

Fortunately, one of the featured artists was present to answer questions. I asked him a tough one right off the back. “How does one understand this genre?” He smiled and stated that the way he understands it is to  start painting and continue until he considers a canvas “successful.” He admitted that most of his aren’t, but he either starts all over by painting over the failures on getting a fresh canvas.

Then he gave an intriguing response about how every painting is a conversation. When I asked him if he remembered what he was thinking or how he was feeling while working on the painting I snapped his picture with, he said no.

In the back corner, past all of my beloved Dr. Seuss art, lay a treasure trove of bright, texturized acrylic paintings. Of course I loved all the red and flow, which made me readily forgive it was acrylic. Not my preferred medium to paint in, but I can certainly appreciate the over-the-top talent of the artist.

Truly, what landscape art should be: bold, thought-provoking, narrative-inspiring.

I normally don’t spend too much time looking in the movie poster section, but here’s one of my all-time favorite actors on Spanish translated poster.

Once we toured the entire gallery, we didn’t want the conversation to end. We all hopped into our separate cars, and met up at a string of little restaurants and coffee shops which shared a back patio. Believe it or not, the heat and humidity actually allowed us to enjoy the moment.