Peggy's on her way back to work

It's true, I'm headed back to work on Wednesday. May this job be better than the last one. I've assembled my wardrobe, which consists of endless black pants, but that's what we wear to work when we get dressed at the crack of dawn. I'm looking forward to working again and being a part of a group effort, especially one that makes the world a better place.

Not working is fine at first, but then you have moments like the one I had at Glenn's party a month ago. Everybody was talking about their work, and I sat silently. I like to be active and to have people expect things of me. Jobs have given me something that no other endeavor gives me (other than a paycheck )- people contact, putting my effort into a good cause, making calm out of chaos, all day thinking.

Johnny Depp will play in the latest re-make of Dark Shadows. When worlds collide! I love Dark Shadows and I have liked Johnny Depp since his 21 Jump Street days. If you don't remember Dark Shadows and wish that you did, go to YouTube.

We are planning a new roof for the house. Michael will put the roof on, bringing along a friend. They'll stay here since Michael lives on one of the San Juans and the drive is too long. We'll have a full house, with activity abounding.

That's it from here!

Clothes Complaints and Other Items

My thoughts on clothes did not end with the end of our trip to Texas and Oklahoma. Yes, I have calmed down about an attempt, albeit innocent to sell me capri pants in Oklahoma. But now I find that Nordstrom is selling their 8 panel side zips as back zips this year, so I've lodged a formal complaint to Nordstrom and am enlisting Talbots for their help in finding side zips. Back zips are impossible for women with arms that are less than 14 feet long and who may or may not have flexibility or coordination limitations. As an aside, I entered a public restroom just the other day where a woman was swearing about her back zips slacks. Anyway, the 8 panels are a full length pant (of course) that are extremely easy to alter because there are 4 panels per leg. They were the answer to my black pant prayer. If anyone knows of a good side zip, please contact me right away, if not sooner.

My sterling nephew Garrett has checked in to say that the latest and last Harry Potter book is the best. He loved it. Garrett had his copy in hand at 12:07 a.m. Saturday morning. He read for 17 hours. That's my guy. Garrett is quite a reader and a very smart guy all the way around. He has my mother's green eyes and the innate common sense of a West.

Kathy and I spent a lot of our weekend trying to bring order to our home. We are calling in California Closets for some organizing and closet building. One of my tasks with all of this luscious time off is to throw out years worth of papers, receipts, light bills, etc. and I've nearly completed the task, although there's shredding left to do. But this didn't solve our closet problems. I will get rid of more stuff by going to work, where I will take a box of office accoutrement, including cds, a cd player and 9,000 little cartoons that I'll paste up around my desk. I can take some of the art work that is sitting around, too.

I did in fact go into my new job twice this week to aid in hiring a program assistant. The people are funny and nice and I have high hopes. I am delighted to be back on upper campus. The building is old, set in a lovely location, and right around the bend from two stellar libraries. The bookstore is 1.5 blocks away and so is the Shalimar restaurant. Who could ask for anything more? I hope I do this group proud and can accomplish what we're setting out to do.

We're into books on cd these days and are listening to the next book by the author who wrote The Kite Runner. This book is about women in Afghanistan. I believe the book will plot revolution in Afghanistan through the lives of at least two women. 1973 is the year for the first woman's story, 15 years later for the second woman's. I'm reading Poor People, a long essay on poverty, by William Vollman. It's tres reflective, very well-written, and a book I read, then put down for several days. It reminds me how privileged I am, and cuts down on my complaints, except those having to do with clothes and who they're made for.

I have finished my book for the time being. I went back through a chapter that I liked the other night and see that although I get off some good lines, the chapter is a little out of character for the book. More re-writing ahead.

I hope you're all having good summers and wearing the pants of your dreams.

Fonz

I'm absolutely in love with this dog! She's Ken's dog. Ken is Peg's brother who lives in Medford, OR. Peggy asked me to post a picture of Fonzie. I think she has something to say about her...and wanted to include a visual...

Items of Concern

Hello Everyone: Unlike you, I have a life with very few concerns these days, all of which will change when I head back to work in 3.5 weeks. In the meantime, just to keep the blog going and because I know you care, here are my thoughts and deeds these days:

I am on a non-inflaming foods, low-fat nutrition plan. I have indeed given up Diet Coke and have cut down on coffee from 1 full cup to 1/2 cup per day. I'm ingesting as little salt and as few preservatives as possible. This morning, when we went out for breakfast, I ordered an omellette, asking that it be cooked in as little oil as possible. I substituted the hash brown/home fries portion of the show with fruit, and got, of course, melon. That green kind of melon. It was a very good breakfast, in spite of the green melon, which, in my opinion, is one of your more tasteless fruits. My clothes fit better already. My skin looks uninflamed. I am, however, dying for a cup of coffee, ready to inflame something any minute.

I am, once again, addicted to the Kathy Griffin show. I find her very funny, although am finding her swearing to be a little much and done too often. It takes the place of the "you know" in the language of so many of our young people. Kathy has a very funny set up for her show. Her mother, a recent widow, has moved into the big splashy house and we are all behind her because she's a hoot and won't iron for Kathy. Jessica, Kathy's assistant, lives in the house, has blonde hair now, can't stop laughing at Kathy, and has gone gay. Jessica has an assistant now who we don't know much about (not sure if she's a resident or not) except that her grandmother watches the home shopping channel. And there's John, who Kathy makes up terrible stuff about and who laughs at her all the time. They interviewed for a handyman and found one. It would be very funny if he moved in because there's nothing funnier and more ongoing than home fix-it projects. If the new handman won't move in, they should find a Jessica-type with a tool belt and a dysfunctional present or former partner. Kathy herself is dating and attending various D-list and A-list events, all of which KG makes hilarious. It's as though we're there, but we don't have to get dressed and go out.

I am also addicted to my new blackberry, which is keeping me organized. There's a game on it, too, which I play almost constantly. It's good for tracking and beefing up various cognitive skills.

Next weekend we will visit my brother Ken and my fabulous nephew, Garrett, in Oregon. Garrett excelled in school this past year and has just returned from a trip to the east coast. He loved Wash DC. Ken continues to work on his patio and to try to bring his new, very young dachsund, Fonzie, into line. Fonzie is trying very hard to be good, but aren't we all? I have included my brother Ken in my book. He belongs there, having lived in the housing project, which is the locale of the book. I will be wearing my Orvis Buzz Off cargo pants on the drive there and back. It's very hot in that part of Oregon in the summer so I'll take my Orvis linen pants and top, too.

Speaking of the book, I talked with my 81 year old friend who I have modelled the protagonist in my book on. She is letting me use her name as the protagonist. She was a wonderful friend to me two years ago when I helped my father through hospice. She was a great friend to my father, too, especially in the last couple of years of his life, when they talked every night over the phone. Awhile back, she ordered a CD on how to get your life together.

We're talking about the Marcumentary. Kathy has a long list of things to do and people to tape to pull that project together.

That's it for now!

Next steps

One of the many inspirational sign boards we saw in our travels.


Well, the Road Trip may be technically over, but the quest for material for the documentary (Marcumentory) has just begun. (If the truth be known, my spirit hasn't caught up with my body yet...re-entry to my ho-hum life in Seattle has been a bit rough). Believe it or not, I hadn't, until Friday night, had a chance to even sit down and consider our trip, what we learned and who we met. Now that I have, I realize that we will need to go back out on the road, this time with more of a plan.

I've just emailed a local (Seattle) alternative country musician, Bob Wayne (of Bob Wayne and the Outlaw Carnies) asking for an interview and to video some of a performance. Bob and Marc met shortly before Marc died, but the two had quite a connection. Bob came to Marc's service and sang a great ballad he wrote called, "The Ghost of Johnny Cash". It was the perfect song for the occasion.

Peg is going back to work the first of August, so she tells me I'm on my own with this project for awhile.

In the meantime, I'm in search of a good digital camcorder. Stay tuned.


--Kathy

Shopping for Work Clothes

I took a tour through Nordstrom today, trying to wrap my fashion brain around what I will wear to my new job, which starts August 1. That's a difficult time fashionwise to start a job because on a new job, one must look serious, and summer clothes are not serious.

Sadly, the Nordstrom salesperson was not sure if the Caslon side zips would be re-stocked for fall. I have them in gray and black, but the latter are looking a little like the former, and need to be replaced. Those side zips go with everything, are easy to alter (4 panels on each leg), and are slimming. I am now seeking out a Nordstrom emergency hotline phone number, with grief counselors available if they are needed.

I continue to write a little, but mostly I am reading. I'm reading "The Inheritance of Loss", which won either a Booker or a National this year. It's beautifully written (I'm sure they needed to hear that from me). As I read along, I ask myself why I would consider myself a writer because I don't write like that. My writing is much more stark. But no two writers write the same way anymore than than two painters paint the same way.

We missed the rains in Oklahoma and Texas!

Hats off to Paris Hilton, who will go forth to do good works in the world. Perhaps she would like to take on my ironing.

Checking back in, lest you forget us

Hello everyone: I am unable (yet) to post my last road trip blog but I'll try again this week. But let me assure you that our road trip was so important that we won't stop talking to you about it. Kathy has written some lovely pieces. Her connection to Marc was all there. She's just back from a woodturning symposium and is very excited about all that she learned. I stayed home and cleaned and cleaned, plus acted as a foil for the needs of B.C., our 20 year old cat who runs the place.

My book is at a new stage. The novel is on bake, with me adding very little but thinking about it a lot. I've finished the writing, or at least I think I have, and have a novel-length piece of writing. When I started writing, I had the setting and time - a housing project in the early 1960's. When I was 11, my mother, who was having a very hard time, drove 500 miles away from our middle class neighborhood, taking my two brothers and me to live in a housing project. We were there for one year and it was one of the most interesting years of my life. I was face to face with poverty, oppression, racism and a very ill mother. I fictionalized what happened (it truly is not The True Story) and wrote a novel.

When I was in school and writing, one of my writing teachers talked about the choices that writers make. I have always been extremely curious about the novel writing process. What's the deal about making choices? What problems of writing? A story is a story and then you end it. Only someone who is on the edge of writing one of these things would let herself think that. It has been a complex process, one with lots of deletions. The story as it now stands is not at all the way I started it. So much has dropped out. So much has dropped out that was very useful, including an extremely ironic tone. Gone.

It sounds as though the process to secure a literary agent, should I attempt to publish, is difficult. I'm pretty curious about it. Has anyone out there published a novel?

There are some situations to keep quiet about and there are some situations to make a lot of noise about. My year in the housing project is something to make noise about, and that's what my writing is. There was such oppression in the project, and such depression and remember that these were the days before self-esteem building workshops. There are things I saw that I could not work into the novel, by the way. One of those is my young shock at attending a movie, non-Walt Disney, at the Boy's Club. We each had to pay 10 cents to see it, and that meant a host of children could not go. It was a very hot night (we must have just arrived in the project) and we sat on the floor, one hundred of us or so, watching what I considered an extremely old-fashioned movie. No popcorn or candy available. It opened with a child being kidnapped on a hot summer day, yelling and screaming as he's shoved into a car, while adults walk by and smile and wave. Perhaps the kids watching the movie could relate.

Take a look at this link to see a Seattle housing project, circa early 1960's:

http://www.seattlehousing.org/CommunitySites/newhollycommunity/HistoryofNewHolly/HollyParkBefore.htm

Checking-in

Lest everyone think I've abandoned the blog, I am checking in to say that I am back from the woodturning symposium in the Salt Lake City area and will blog more about it and upcoming plans for the Marcumentory later.

Suffice it to say that I am a bit jealous that Peggy and Rosemary are not yet at work (Peggy is off til Aug 1 and Rosemary is semi-retired). I'll need a vacation just to recouperate from the last 3 adventure packed weeks. It's been a blast!

Kathy

Hasta la vista, Austin

Well, I still don’t know for sure if Texas is considered the south, the Midwest or the southwest. Everywhere we went, we asked people and got varying opinions on the subject. In northern Texas, people were sure it was the Midwest…well, maybe the West. In Austin we got votes from the locals for the West, Southwest, the Midwest—and just Texas (Texans are very proud and don’t like to be lumped in with other folks). In Galveston, folks were adamant that we were in the South. Perhaps it’s a regional thing and Texas is, indeed Mid-Southwest, West and South all thrown into one.

My friend, Susan Heidke called as we were making our way along Highway 71 about half way between Houston and Austin. Susan, who’s from Austin, had been reading our blog. It made her homesick for the Texas Hill country, ice tea and BBQ. She gave us some great recommendations for food and shopping. She also asked if we made it to Lake Travis and the Oasis for Amber’s birthday. We did—and I totally got caught up in the LBJ library and forgot to talk about what a fun experience it was.

Just below the Oasis is a turn off for Hippie Haven, a beach along the lake that in recent years has become a swimsuit optional beach. I think this area was a high school hang out for Susan (prior to the swimsuit optional designation). Maybe she’ll comment and fill us in. : )

Our last couple of days in Austin have been spent exploring some more of the eateries and shops along South Congress, the open air artisan market near the UT campus on Guadalupe, and a few shops along West Sixth. We ate blackened catfish enchiladas at Z-Tejas on West Sixth. Excellent! Thank you Susan, for the recommendation.

Allen’s Boots is an honest-to-goodness western boot and clothing store. Peggy was on the hunt for a pair of Ariat boots to replace her current pair. Hers aren’t western boots, though, so she didn’t find exactly what she was looking for. I saw lots of cool boots that I’d have worn in a heartbeat if I lived in Austin. Rosemary said the most expensive pair she saw was $1,000. I missed those, but no doubt they’d have been on my top 10 list. Marc had a great pair of Justin boots that I bought him a few years back. He’s been to the boot stores in Austin, and as I wandered through this particular store, I couldn’t help but think of him doing the same. Damn. I would have liked to hear his commentary on their impressive display of boots. Peggy and Rosemary both missed one of the sales women. She was dressed in a very short white cotton dress with a full ruffled skirt, and a pair of riding boots with a little dyed leather turquoise trim. Earlier Rosemary and I had been debating whether one could wear riding boots with crop pants and still be considered fashionable. I’m sure you know what I said. But then I saw this young woman and decided that you could probably wear whatever you want and call it good!

Last night Peggy hung out at the hotel while Rosemary and I drove out to Georgetown to see Richard, Amber and Arleen again. Rich is quite an artisan. He’s a journeyman gunsmith and loves making custom pieces for people. It’s quite an art…and I must say, one I know very little about. I understand it more now after he showed me many pieces that he’s made, how they fit together, what they’re used for (competition, police forces). It’s so different than anything in my life. It’s good to stretch my brain.

For those of you who know me well, you know I am less than fond of snakes. Turns out that Amber has 2 ball boa constrictors. Yuck. She says they get about 3 feet long only, and they’re very docile. Yuck. Rosemary held one. I can barely look at them without having nightmares. Yuck. She used to have a monitor. I could handle that…but not the snakes. Yuck. Did I mention that I am not fond of snakes?

Arleen just bought a new computer so Rich and I set up her virus scanner, showed her the blog, and played around with the new Windows Vista.

We put about 2300 miles on our rental car, so even though we flew in and out of Austin, we got in some road miles! I’m not quite done, though.

And now we are at cruising altitude somewhere over Colorado I imagine. We got up around 5:30 after going to bed somewhere around 12:30. I am happy to be heading home to think about it all. I miss my kitties. We’ve got pictures, a little video, and lots of stories and impressions to weave together. I think we’ll have to go back before we finish our Marcumentory project.

Tuesday morning, dark and early, I board a plane for Salt Lake for the annual international woodturning symposium. Salt Lake City was Marc’s last road trip, so I’ll check out a few of the places clubs Hank Williams III and JB Beverly and the Wayward Drifters played then. Stay tuned . . .

Did I find wood. . . ?

Well, of course I found wood…and lots of it! Did I bring any home with me? No. Central Texas is full of the most beautiful old Live Oaks I’ve ever seen in my life. There are lots of pecan trees, some kinds of pine, mesquite, persimmon, sego palms, coconut palms, you name it, I saw it. Rosemary and I saw some downed trees and thought about harvesting a few small pieces. But the reality of dragging it around for days on end, and then through the airport set in and I decided it wouldn’t be worth it. Plus, I didn’t want to end up in a Texas jail for pilfering perfectly good firewood. I hear those Texas jails aren’t much fun.

In Galveston, we toured an historic home called The Bishop’s Palace. It was originally built between 1886-93 by a former Confederate colonel and US Congressman, Walter Gresham. It’s build from native Texas granite, white limestone and red sandstone all cut and shaped on the premises. Steel framing no doubt contributed to the abilitly of the mansion to weather the 1900 Storm when many thousands of other buildings were swept into the Gulf of Mexico. But I am drifting away from my topic—finding wood. Much of the hand carved woodwork inside the house made from rare species of wood such as rosewood, white mahogany, satinwood, and curly pine. Black oak, various maple species and straight grain pine were also used to build and decorate this beautiful house. The home was constructed at a cost of $250,000, and was one of the first homes to have electricity and running water.

By the way, the 1900 Galveston Storm is considered to be the deadliest natural history in U. S. history. Six to eight thousand people lost their lives from the storm surge that followed the 140 mph hurricane, and more than 3600 buildings were totally destroyed. In 1900, the highest elevation on Galveston island was 8.7 feet. The height of the storm surge was 15.7 feet. After the storm, a seawall was constructed to protect the island from future storm surges.

The Galveston relief effort was the last for 78 year old Clara Barton, founder of the American Red Cross. She and other volunteers traveled from Washington D.C. to Galveston to provide relief to storm victims. The 19-year old Red Cross organization built an orphanage and raised money selling photos of the disaster to rebuild homes.

Galveston: Last Tidbits

I liked the weather in Galveston, and I liked seeing my brother. There are some very cool old Victorian homes that survived the hurricane in 1900, a great historic area called The Strand, complete with a railroad museum, and a few mansions. The beach—well, there isn’t much of it compared to the beaches in Hawaii or the West coast—or even the east coast for that matter. The seawall took most of it out. And the waves are little.—more like wavettes. But all-in-all, it was okay. The poverty, though, got to me. Lots of what were probably nice areas have fallen into disrepair, businesses abandoned, yards long neglected, abandoned cars.

Along the seawall, lots of people vacation with their kids and seem to have a ball. There’s a huge water park near the Moody Gardens, and lots of conveniently located kiosks along the skinny stretch of beach where, for a fee, you can borrow chairs, umbrellas and surf boards.

The beds at our hotel were the best of the entire trip, and a welcome relief after leaving the Extended Stay Deluxe in Austin. Terrible beds, a great mid-day manager named Heather. Unfortunately, Heather couldn’t do anything about the sucky beds, but she provided lots of helpful information and some entertainment as well.

On our final evening in Galveston, we met Dennis for dinner. He came alone as his wife wasn’t up to going out. Truth be told, she doesn’t like me, but that’s okay. We live many miles apart and don’t have to communicate much. Denny was married before to Arleen, mother of Richard, my only nephew. Arleen and I are still very close, so I suspect that only contributes to Barbara’s animosity.

For a guy with only 23% of his heart function, I’d say Denny is doing pretty well. He entertained us with southern style wild west Texas stories about his life. I saw that Ringwood twinkle in his eye a couple of times as he told us of his adventures. I was glad to see that twinkle. That says to me he’s doing okay. Although he’s no longer able to work, he says he still rides his motorcycle when things get to chaotic at home. Barbara’s daughter and her 4 children live with them most of the year (along with a host of others who find themselves in need of a place to stay). Den says he doesn’t have a lot of patience for kids, so going for a ride helps to keep his sanity.

I had hoped to get him to tell us a tale or two about Marc, but Denny didn’t have much to say about him. I think he’s too sad about it. About 10 years ago Marc stayed with them for about 6 months when he was thinking about a move to Texas. Wish I’d have gotten to hear some of those stories, but perhaps in time I will.

After dinner and a long visit, Denny hugged us all goodbye, and as he did, I decided that this may not be the last time I ever see him. I hope not.

Our Final Day in Austin

This is such a beautiful city, with the Colorado River and lovely architecture. Rosemary and Kathy have navigated with maps and good intuition. The weather has held out and we were treated to cooler weather today. We shopped for local art, hoping to bring back earrings and we didn't find anything particularly affordable. We checked out a couple of boot stores and I didn't find the boots that I was looking for. I am looking for Ariats, low heeled, ankle boots. I have a pair from a couple of years ago but Ariat does not make that style any longer. They are cool looking and very stable.

We had lunch at a place with a name that I cannot remember, but I had a great piece of vegetable quiche and my weekly treat - a diet Coke. We had yummy cookies, too, very chewy cookies, which can be hard to find. None of those sugar wafer things that all taste the same and are so flat you can hardly tell them from the wax paper they're sold with. Rosemary and I think we'll open up a cookie and coffee place. She has a bang-up recipe for chocolate chip cookiest. Oh, cinnamon rolls, too. Claudia makes the best cinnamon rolls so we'll beg for that recipe.

I am on my own this evening while Kathy and Rosemary visit Arleen. I'm ordering room service, watching t.v., and packing because we take off early in the morning.

I look forward to going home, especially seeing the cats, who are not following the blog. Being away from writing has given me ideas about how to re-organize my book and helped steer me in a direction that I know will be good for my book. I'm heading home to face the heavy stuff, to find the words for the experience.

The Perfect Salad

I had a salad so perfect in Galveston yesterday that I purchased the salad dressing. Greens, pecans, a piece of tuna, garlic croutons and a grilled apple slice. And that salad dressing. Light and lovely. I liked Galveston, although it was too hot and difficult to get around because of that.

We toured the Bishop Palace, which is one of those historic sites that make one wonder what one would do if she had enough money to build a monument to herself. The wood lining the interior and the fireplaces were unspeakably beautiful. But what does it take to build a home so special, so unique, so luxurious, that only you can afford it? I'm sorry, but there is nothing funnier than the monument that we build to ourselves (see the pictures of our new deck). The builders/owners of the home painted canvasses of their children's faces, which now line the ceiling of the house. She may be the first documented Martha Stewart, what with all of the painting on china and special home decorating efforts. She is to be commended. Eleven servants supported the house and I will now break down what I think their assignments were (this was not explained in the tour): 2 upstairs servants for the Mr. and Mrs., 1 governess, 1 maid for the children, 1 driver/horseman, 2 downstairs maids (non-kitchen) , 3 in the kitchen (scullery, cook, baker/head chef), 1 butler. I don't know whether to count the groundsman. I'm making my assignments from information that I learned so long ago on the television show Upstairs/Downstairs.

It was so interesting to meet Kathy's Dickinson family. Kathy's brother Dennis looks a little like Kathy. He likes her quite a lot (who wouldn't?) His home is on a bayou, a gorgeous setting with a perch jumping, and numerous rowdy birds acting up.

I have nothing new to say about crop pants. I am completely overdosed by them and although I have registered my complaint verbally and spiritually, the trend goes on. People are torturing me with their crop pants. Even Rosemary pointed out this morning that she would be wearing her crops.

You may be wondering how my Orvis safari pants are faring. I cannot say enough good things about these pants. They are so filled with zippers and velcro, buttons, pockets and more zippers, that I am tempted to post a picture of them, fully deployed. Would you like to see that?

Galveston, oh Galveston...

Greetings from balmy Galveston. I hadn't expected to like the weather so well, but I do. It reminds me of being on Kwajalein (Marshall Islands) oh-so-many years ago. I'm still trying to get accustomed to seeing really tall houses since most are built up to protect from flooding. It's kind of strange to see pretty coastline, (very flat) and then some big tall house stuck out in the middle of nowhere. I kept wondering why they were building such tall homes...sometimes I'm a little slow!

Today I got to see my brother Denny. Dennis was born 7 years before me, and we've had quite a sibling rivalry ever since I arrived on the planet. Guess I stole his place as the youngest in the family and he had a hard time forgiving me : ). I haven't seen him since just after our mom died in December of 1999. Too long, but we do seem to go many years between seeing one another. I'm very happy to have had some time with him. He gave me some very cool family genealogical documents; I gave him a sack full of old silver coins that belonged our grandfather. He's quite the collector and I am the family genealogist.

Denny lives in Dickinson, Tx, right on a bayou. It's a beautiful setting with lots of wild life: alligator gars, shark, perch, and real alligators in the water; many sea birds--great egrets, pelicans, pink flamingos (not plastic), black headed gulls, reddish egrets, California gulls, Texas kelp gulls, just to name a few of the birds I've spotted.

Galveston has quite a history--and many beautiful old victorian homes that are fairly affordable by Seattle standards. However, R2 tells me that 20% of the population of Galveston lives below the poverty level which probably accounts for the many homes for sale, along with countless businesses and land.

Tomorrow we'll take in some of the historical and water sights--the Bishop's Castle, Moody Mansion, perhaps a sea tour, and hopefully, dinner with Dennis. Our track record of getting together has never been very good, and given his health concerns, this may be the last time I see him. In fact, he said the same thing to Peggy and Rosemary today. Ah, life.

Thursday it's back to Austin where we'll get to Sixth Street, and maybe the hill country. And of course, I'll see Rich and Amber and Arleen (Rich's mom and my good friend).

And finally, I feel it is time for me to weigh in on the subject of crop pants. I have hestitated to do so because I'm not what you'd call a "fashionista"...but here goes. Crop pants: I won't wear them, but I'm getting accustomed to seeing them around. But here's where I draw the line. Before leaving Austin the other day, I saw a woman crossing the street wearing a pair of black crop pants with bell bottoms, socks and tennis shoes. There was about a 2 1/2 inch "reveal" between the top of the sock and bottom of the pant leg. I know it's a look....but I vote NO on it. I can hardly wait to hear what R2 has to say. I think Peggy is working on something about "muffin tops".

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.....we love your comments.

Kathy

No dreams can possess you (Galveston)

Do you remember the Joni Mitchell song that opens with "Fly silly seabird, no dreams can possess you..."? We drove into Galveston Island over a bridge with a pink flamingo high up in the air. We've seen tons of seabirds since then, but no flamingoes (yet). It is beautiful here, very touristy on the strip, or seawall, as it's known. Farther back, we found a business and shopping area with 110 year old buildings sporting verandah and balconies, and the same with homes. The homes are gorgeous and, of course, Kathy found the one house for sale in town. A beauty, for $419,000. Not bad, actually.

The water goes on forever, from a graybrown to green to blue. The weather is 100 degrees in the sun, but a breeze blows off the ocean and keeps it cool enough. We had a drink and "bait" (appetizers) when we first got to town. We overlooked the water. The food was fresh and very good. Kathy and Rosemary are out now having dinner and are bringing back soup or something small for me.

We are 30 minutes or so from Kathy's brother Dennis' house. I'm looking for a yoga class and think I've found one, not far from here. Otherwise, I believe we'll be walking along the beach and touring about.

The drive here was fairly uneventful. Houston is not as beautiful from the freeway as Austin was up close. I'm not sure what the economic picture of Houston is.

I love our room at th Baymont. Kathy and Rosemary don't feel the affection for it that I feel. I don't know why I like it so much. I'm into architecture this trip, and this room as an architectural detail that I like very much: high ceiling and wide moulding at the top. The beds are huge. I like the lighting in the room very much. These things matter to me.

I miss writing my book. Since being away from it for 10 days, I've thought of stories I would add, directions I would take, and, of course, am writing that mother/daughter feature. How hard can it be?

Puff the Magic Dragon

Today we leave for Galveston. I'm up early and rather than waking the girlz, I'm sitting in the "breakfast" room drinking a cup of coffee and listening to the newezette (Paris Hilton, etc). I had to provide my own cup for coffee. Seems they are out of cups. Sometimes I wonder how these places stay in business. But don't get me started on the amenityless hotels!

I've never been to a presidential library, so I wasn't entirely sure what to expect when we arrived at the LBJ library yesterday afternoon. We were immediately greeted by a Lady Bird-like woman who gave us a very proper wlecome complete with a map and directions to the restrooms. After that, I entered an earlier era--the early 1900's when LBJ and Lady Bird (who's real first name is Claudia) were born. The historians and librarians have done a wonderful job mixing his personal history, interest in poverty and concern over racial issues with the national and international buzz of the day. As I read and walked through the exhibit, I was suddenly transported back in time to the 1960's--talk of the Vietnam war, race riots--and Puff the Magic Dragon playing overhead. I remember listening to the radio every night when I went to bed hoping to hear Puff. It was my favorite song and somehow helped me deal with missing my brother. My brother Mike had been drafted and I missed him so much. I must've been around 11 or so, maybe a bit younger. Then my brother Denny was drafted. I remember him walking out the front door of our house and I wondered if I'd ever see him again.

I continued making my way through the exhibit that was now part of my own personal history--not just a history I'd read about in books, but one that I lived. I hated the war (who didn't), but my mom forbid me to go into Berkeley to join the protests because Denny was in Vietnam. I think what surprised me the most about the exhibit was my own emotional response to it. I cried for who we were and what we lost then; for our lack of progress, and what we continue to lose. LBJ's administration passed terrific legislation and instituted programs like Head Start, the Clean Water Act, Medicaid, set aside great amounts of land for parks and recreation, anti-discrimination acts, voting rights for blacks. You'd think we were, as a society, on the edge of greatness. Yet here we are today mired in a senseless war, social programs gutted, poverty on the rise. I'd go back to the LBJ library. The library closed before we finished our tour.

I've found it hard to shake off the experience, which I don't think is a bad thing. We moved along with our day--Peggy to yoga, Rosemary and I scoping out the river and the bat scene, and after we retrieved Peggy fron the yoga studio and watched the bats, we had dinner at one of Marc's favorite haunts, Ruby's BBQ. Yummy!

I think I saw Rosemary come down for coffee, so that's my que to get back to the room and pack up. I've enjoyed Austin although I feel like I've missed much of it. We'll be back in a few days, though, when I've made a promise to myself to hit 6th Street night life. That is, afterall, one of the main reasons I've come here!

The 1960s in words, song and pictures

We visited the LBJ Library today. This was my first tour of a presidential library and I expected a lot of dry documents under glass. What we got instead was a chronology of LBJ's life juxtaposed against LBJ's time, starting from around 1918 and moving forward. It was historical and personal, with nary a dull document in sight. Of course, it was the 1960s that stood out. I did a quick trip through November 1963, and moved on to his presidency, which was fraught with unpopularity. LBJ was the anti-hero to those of us opposed to the Vietnam War. It may be in part that the library presents those years more favorably to LBJ but it was also a long time ago and easier to understand LBJ's position in retrospect. He was, in my mind, the second to the last president who considered himself a public servant, with Carter being the last. The last portion of the exhibit is a 10 minute 1960s retrospective, including words and a video image of the plane carrying LBJ and his family away from Washington DC. His words are that he hoped people would understand that he tried to do something, to do his best. His voice bespoke humility, that lost state of consciousness. LBJ died five years after he left office. Mrs. Johnson is still alive and living in Austin, age 95.

I took a restorative yoga class at Yoga Yoga and once again was presented with a cup of chai tea after class. This is a nice tradition. The yoga studio has at least two rooms where yoga is being conducted. There is even a receptionist!

We had dinner at Ruby's bbq. I had my first piece of sweet potato pie, which looks exactly like pumpkin but tastes much less spicey. I had smoked chicken and cole slaw in vinagerette dressing.

Call me silly, but I felt sorry for the bats (see Kathy's blog). Spectators shined lights into the bridge, people wore funny hats, there was a booth with bat information. It was a little like the gay pride parade. The bats left the gray bridge at gray dusk and I was able to see them in gusts (gray gusts). They didn't fly in formation or do any kind of tricks whatsoever. I salute them.

Tomorrow we are off to Galveston, where everyone says it will be hotter and muggier. We have a room overlooking the Gulf.

Peggy

Sunday: LBJ Library

Several people told us to be sure to see the LBJ Library. Having never seen a presidential library, I wasn't sure what to expect and I surely never expected that I spend the whole 2 hours I was there tearing up. It was an incredibly moving experience.

The museum presents LBJ's and Lady Bird's lives literally against a backdrop of the events that were occurring at the time. It's a remarkably accessible way to tell their story. The exhibit presents hand-written and hand-typed letters to and from LBJ, e.g. a letter in which Barry Goldwater told LBJ he'd always respected him, and that he had made a terrible mistake in agreeing to be JFK's VP. Also a letter from Jackie on the day after JFK's funeral, thanking LBJ for his many kindnesses and for serving as VP to a man he had mentored when he was the senate majority leader and JFK was the freshman senator from Massachusetts.

The exhibit did a wonderful job of depicting the many significant events of the 60's: the war on poverty - Head Start, Medicare, Medicaid, Legal Aid, the Voting Rights Act, the assassinations of MLK and Bobby K., the race riots, the war protests, and, of course, the Vietnam War. I came away from the museum with a much greater sense of appreciation for Johnson and all that his administration accomplished for civil rights and justice - something that I lost sight of in the 60's in my opposition to the war. The other, even stronger feeling, was profound sadness at how badly our society has failed to fulfill the promises of justice, fairness, and equality embodied in the laws that Congress passed during the Johnson administration. I came away from the exhibit with the sense that Johnson was, in fact, a man of deep conviction and one who, as president, tried sincerely to do the right thing for the U.S., and especially for the poor people of this country. As Peggy said when we were leaving, "We've lost so much of what we gained in the 60's."

If you visit Austin, you must visit the LBJ library. It's really something. And if you lived through the 60's, it'll take you back there.

Rosemary

Bats in the belfry

Who knew that bats are so good for the environment? I sure didn't. In fact, I've never thought much about bats except in 6th and 7th grade when we'd all rush home from school to watch the gothic soap opera, Dark Shadows featuring Jonathan Frid as Barnabas Collins, who was, in fact, a vampire (and sometimes turned into a vampire bat). These are the things that influence our beliefs about these little creatures.

Turns out that the Congress Avenue bridge in Austin is summer home the largest urban colony of bats in the world. Engineers reconstructed the bridge in 1980. Crevices beneath the bridge turned out to be excellent bat homes and they began moving in by the thousands. At first Austonians were afraid and petitioned to have the bat colony eradicated. But then they learned that bats are gentle and incredibly sophisticated animals and that the stereo types about bats are untrue. Bats are not blind, they do not fly into your hair, and they don't bite. Only about 1/10th of 1% of bats ever contract rabies. Most bats feed on insects. In fact, the Austin bats eat about 20,000 pounds of insects each night including agricultural pests and mosquitos. The colony under the bridge has grown to about 1.5 million bats. Each night during the summer, the bats leave their roosts under the bridge at dusk, flying down the Colorado River in search of insects. It's quite a sight!

Rosemary was able to catch some great shots with her digital camcorder so we hope to be able to upload some pics for everyone to see. We sat near the bridge for about an hour and a half waiting for the bats to emerge. It's quite a scene. People line the bridge looking down on the river, while people below in the park huddle beneath the bridge for a glimpse of the bats. As the sun goes down and the skies grow darker, it's harder to see the bats, but you can hear them chattering in their colonies. It's very cool. People visiting the Congress Avenue Bridge to see the bats generate ten million dollars in tourism dollars each year.

I learned a lot about bats today, and I'm glad I did. They're a much better alternative to pesticides, and without them, the balance of our ecosystem would be severly damaged. So...(and you know who I am talking to), when a bat flies into your house, she's not there to hurt you. She actually EATS moths!

Peggy is anxious to add to the blog, so I'll let her sign in. We visited the LBJ Presidential Library earlier in the day--I'm sure she will tell you about it, but suffice it to say, it was quite a moving experience--which surprised me.

Off to Galveston tomorrow....

Kathy

Amber's birthday

Today is Amber's 26th birthday. Amber married my my nephew, Richard 3 years ago this October...about the time I broke my foot and had surgery so I missed the wedding (really bummed me out). We're going out tonight to celebrate--not sure where yet, but we're talking about the Oasis, due west, on Lake Travis. There are 40 decks nestled into the cliffs over the lake and I hear the music is great (different every night), and the sunsets unparalleled. If not tonight, we'll go another.

This morning has been spent hunting for a good cup of coffee, performing uncelebrated travel chores like laundry (5 looads!), and making hotel reservations in Galveston for Monday and Tuesday nights. Rosemary's former officemate (Michelle) from UW PhD school lives here in Austin and has invited us for lunch this afternoon. Michelle owns and operates a B&B a little west of town so this should be a fabulous opportunity to see some of the countryside.

I think tomorrow we'll take a little tour bus ride to get a feel for Austin, then head to the LBJ Library and if there's time, take in some other tourist attractions. Some of our sight seeing will undoubtedly take place when we come back up from visiting my brother in the Galveston area. We 3 middle aged women still need to drag ourselves out to take in some of live music smorgasbord that Marc loved. This may call for an afternoon nap prior to our adventure into the clubs. Next week....

And for whoever inquired...yes...I have found wood! We dined yesterday afternoon under 700 year old live oaks! They are fabuloso! More later.

Kathy

A Hot Day in Austin

It's so hot and humid here, but everyone tells me it's nothing compared to Huston. We met Richard, Kathy's nephew, and Amber, his wife, at their home in Georgetown. They are a very nice, funny couple. Then we met up wit Arleen, Richard's mother, who is one of the funniest, most straightforward people I've ever met. I met Arleen 11 years ago before Kathy and I got together, and I liked her then. Nothing gets by her. We went out to dinner at a restaurant where the oldies from 40 years ago were played, and I loved the music.

Earlier today, we sought out herbs that reduce inflammation in the body. It seems to me that all signs point to reducing inflammation as a way to handle pain. I am getting my eating habits under control - no Diet Coke today and no sweets. I took a yoga class this morning, gentle yoga, and it was lovely. One hour of asana (physical poses), several minutes of meditation and then shivasana (rest). I felt like a million bucks when I left. At this particular studio, you're handed a cup of chai tea as you leave, which is a very healthy custom. We had smoothies and healthy sandwiches for lunch and engaged in a conversation about the hereafter. I'm afraid we're a rather sardonic group with lots of questions and comments.

We came home and I'm afraid I turned on CNN and watched the Paris Hilton drama. I'm a bit of a popular culture nut, and although I am not interested in celebrities themselves, I am interested in the phenomonen of celebrity, which seems a rather recent construct. It has seemed that Paris Hilton has become too famous, and when you become "too" anything, there's a price to be paid. That's the price she's paying. It may have been that at first the law enforcement officials in L.A. wanted to send a straightforward message that they don't want celebrities drinking and driving. Imagine being someone in the family of one who is hit by a drunk celebrity. Paris Hilton has, in fact, lost control of her life for the time being, but so would the family of someone who was killed or hurt by a drunk driver. But then again, Cameron Diaz said tongue in cheek something to the effect that when Paris suffers, we all suffer a little. We are suffering because we cant stop hearing about Paris Hilton and because we are laughing at someone.

Kathy is having a fine time visiting her family here. She loves them very much. Arleen knew Kathy when Kathy was a teenager and Rosemary and I will find out more about those all-important teen years. It may be that I can report some of this on the blog.

Mt. Vernon, Texas

Before leaving Mt. Vernon this morning, we decided to venture into the historical district and found the town museum, housed in a stone structure built by the WPA in 1940 and served as Mt. Vernon's City Hall and fire station. What a find it turned out to be. The current featured exhibit is that of football great, Don Meridith who, as it turns out, is from Mt. Vernon. Although I am quite a football fan, I found the real treasure upstairs in a temperature and light controlled room: the bird egg collection donated by A. W. Nations, an amateur naturalist and orinthologist.

The collection contains over 220 bird eggs, collected during the 1880's before egg collecting was outlawed through legislation designed to protect threatened bird populations. Among the collection are eggs from 3 extinct species: the Carolina Parakeet, Passenger Pigeon and Heath Hen. These beautiful birds became extinct in the early 20th century. Apparently the Smithsonian got into the act when Mt. Vernon (Franklin County) acquired the collection, to ensure that it is properly stored and displayed. It was well worth our time to visit--I must admit that I was surprised to see how tiny some eggs are--hard to imagine that a bird would actually hatch out of such a tiny object--while others are huge, or oddly shaped and spotted. There are great arrowhead and butterfly collections, too, and 3 stunning photos of the extinct (local) birds I mentioned above. In case you are wondering, Mt. Vernon sits on the edge of the northern plains and southern pine forests. It's quite a mecca for many bird species as well as for migrating birds. The gentlemen at the museum were very warm and welcoming to us, and I'd go back in a heart beat if I'm ever in the vicinity. It's nice to see people enthusiastic about their town, their environment and their history, and quite a bonus that they are willing to share their stories with others.

After a delicious lunch at Lou's, we headed south, taking all the back roads to Austin. Lots of cattle and horse country, some corn and cotton farming, and gorgeous wild flowers. After a long, but satisfying drive, we are finally back Austin. Tomorrow, I get to see my only nephew and will finally meet his wife. I can hardly wait!

I keep hearing rumblings from Peggy and Rosemary about a little jaunt to New Orleans next week! We'll see....

Kathy

Promised pictures

I am hoping that our wireless internet connection will handle picture posting tonight. Here goes....first,Tulsa and Cain's Ballroom, then our nod to the Bible Belt Buckle, and finally a few shots from Tall Grass Prairie. . . note the many insects. I actually didn't realize I caught them in my photos until I looked at them last night! Enjoy... for you bird lovers, I've got a great tale for you tomorrow!

Completely dismayed by the Minority Report

I guess I owe a number of people, upwards of 3, an apology for my comments about crop pants. I am a discerning fashion nut and simply thought that everyone thinks as I do. How could they not? And, yes, I can sniff out a clothing store a mile away. While Kathy and Rosemary were in the small Osage town in Oklahoma, I saw a sign a couple of blocks away that said, "Fine Apparel" and felt the pull. I bought a pair of FDJ jeans. I asked the shop owner if she had them in white. She said "no" but would you consider a capris pant? I opened the dressing room door and stared down the barrel of white crop pants! I remained polite and was not moved from my goal - to buy a pair of jeans.

Today's drive was a long one, but we are ensconced in an extended stay 2-room and a kitchen suite in Austin. We'll be here for 4 nights or so. It's comfortable, my travelling companions are on the net and printing all kinds of stuff, while I watch the reports on Paris Hilton's release from jail. Civil rights attorneys are up in arms about this coddle-the-rich release.

We stood at a stop somewhere outside of Tyler, Texas, this afternoon and I heard the most beautiful birdsong. The birds were in bamboo-like vegetation. The local guy I stopped said it wasn't bamboo but was probably in the family. The stalks are cut by kids for fishing poles. Kathy thought I was hearing whippoorwill and mockingbird. It was a beautiful sound.

Mt. Vernon, Texas, is one of our best stops. We stayed overnight at the Super 8, which I believe I mentioned last night. We got the last room so that put us under the stairway. This morning we stopped in at the museum, which was a delightful experience. The town writer dropped in. The volunteers who work at the museum and the writer love what they're doing and love the area. They compile birth and death rates and collect stories of local lore. I played Don Meredith's jukebox (DM is from Mt. Vernon), a little Johnny Matthis and a little Doris Day, while Rosemary and Kathy toured the museum's upstairs, where they saw the country's only bird shell exhibition.

Here's a story from the Mt. Vernon Museum. On display is the wedding dress, fragile and beautiful, of a 20 year old, circa 1850 or so. Her husband to be was the town's undertaker. On the morning of their wedding, a famous gunslinger in another town was killed. The groom/undertaker and his assistant picked up the body, bringing it back to the Mt. Vernon funeral parlor. The assistant was so excited to see the body of a real gunslinger that he pulled the gun out of the holster, it fired, and killed the groom/undertaker on what was to be his wedding day. The bride went on with her life (I can't remember what happened next with her).

The volunteers at the museum also told me that there was a sharp increase in rig wrecks in the late 1800s. Lots of speeding, I suppose. I told them that I hadn't been able to order a beer with dinner the night before at the Mt. Vernon Cafe. The guys got a big kick out of that and told me that theirs is a dry county, where you can bring your own bottle into a restaurant and drink, but you can't buy the beer on site. If the restaurant was a club, you could.

Oklahoma, where the wind comes sweepin' down the plain

Well, I have some catchin' up to do! I was out of commission last night but am happy to report that all's well with me again.

Yesterday we took a little ride up north of Stillwater almost to the Kansas border, where we hung a right and headed east for the Osage Indian Reservation and the Tall Grass Prairie Preserve. Wow. What an incredibly beautiful place. The land on the preserve has NEVER been tilled and the nature conservacy has done a lot of work to ensure that all native plants and grasses remain intact. There's a herd of about 3,000 bison (which somehow escaped our view) and flora and fauna galore (i.e. red cheeked turtles). Lotsa birds...I wish we had a bird book. We saw a hawk sitting on a post that was at least as tall as my forearm if not larger. I will post a few photos of some of the flora.

Earlier in the day we stopped in Pawhuska, OK (just outside of the preserve) where we visited the Chamber of Commerce. While Rosemary and I talked with the informative guy inside, Peggy went outside to stretch her legs. And then she disappeared. So there we were, searching the woods behind the Chamber, the Osage Gift Shop, and any other place we could think of. No Peggy. I said to Rosemary, "Do you see a clothing store anywhere near by?" We looked and looked, but neither of us could see anything that resembled a clothing store (the only likely place she'd be, of course). About the time we decided she'd probably been abducted and we were headed across the street to the police station to file a missing person's report, we spotted her off in the distance waving her arms and motioning us to join her. She'd found a clothing store (I swear she can spot them a mile away) and needed her wallet to purchase the jeans she had just tried on (not crops, of course).

Today was a different day. We woke up in beautiful Tulsa (truly beautiful) and decided to look around the city. Tulsa is apparently known as the Buckle of the Bible Belt, so our first stop was Oral Roberts University where Peggy stood under the 60 foot bronze statue of praying hands as Rosemary and I snapped a few pictures. It's the largest bronze statue in the world. The high point of the Oral Roberts tour was the sighting of a Scissor Tailed Flycatcher, the Oklahoma state bird!

I was ready to leave town, but Rosemary insisted that we find Cain's Ballroom. I figured it'd be closed since it was mid-day, but the kind young men who own it, let us in to take a look around. What history! For those of you who don't know, Cain's Ballroom is considered the birthplace of Western Swing and a pioneering force in the history of Rock and Roll. In the early years, Cain's was headquarters for Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys. Country greats like Roy Rogers, Eddy Arnold, Johny Cash and Loretta Lynn are but a few of the talented artists to play the venue, and more recently, Willie Nelson, Melissa Ethridge, Bob Dylan, The Byrds, Dolly Parton, Jerry Lee Lewis, Bonnie Raitt, Dixie Chicks, Brooks and Dunn, Vanilla Ice, Eric Clapton, Great Divide, No Justice, Cross Canadian Ragweed...well, you get the picture.

For me though, it was a bittersweet experience to walk through the ballroom where Marc and Josh and put together the Red Dirt Music Awards and concert. I could imagine him there, in his jeans and boots, running around and getting things organized. Chad, one of the two brothers who run Cain's remembered Marc right away. He told me it was the longest show they'd ever had. It started at around 3 in the afternoon and ran until 2:00 a.m. Thirty bands played. It was quite an undertaking--and even moreso because both Marc and Josh lived out of state (Josh in Kansas, and Marc in Seattle) and had never met in person! To top it off, neither had ever done anything like this...and it turned out to be quite a success. Thank you, Rosemary! I'm so glad we stopped.

When we finally left Tulsa, we drove down Highway 75, then hooked onto the Choctaw-Chickasaw Trail of Tears Memorial Highway (formerly Highway 70) through some of the most magnificient scenery I've ever seen. I thought about my dad when we crossed the Red River (he was always singing "Red River Valley"). Tonight we are about 300 miles north east of Austin in the charming little town of Mt. Vernon, Tx.

Well, that's about it for me tonight. My laptop battery is nearly drained so it must be time for me to go to bed. Thanks for reading our blog. We love your comments!

--Kathy

p.s. Our "high speed" internet connection isn't so speedy so I'll have eto wait until tomorrow to post pics. Until then....

Minority Report

I have held my tongue 'til now but I can no longer remain silent. I have no quibble with the veracity of Ms. Peggy Lou's reports on our daily adventures, but her so-called fashion crusade cannot go unchallenged. I am, of course, speaking of her tirade against the functional and comfortable crop pant. Mind you, I spoke to her of my pain at having my own personal choice of attire derided in the semi-public space of this blog. She was shocked, for she had not noticed that I had been wearing a pair of bright pink crop pants for two days. Now, I must ask you, just how committed to her cause can she be if she didn't notice I was wearing them? Bright pink, I remind you; bright pink!!

That said, I feel emboldened to depart on my own fashion rant. I am talking about low riders. I have seen just about all the muffin tops and butt cracks I can stand. It's time for a change.

That is all,
r2

Paris, Texas (The movie)

Correction on the movie "Paris, Texas". While it is one of Sam Shepard's, it was made in 1984. Roger Ebert (and I paraphrase) says its content belongs more in the films made 15 years earlier, films such as Midnight Cowboy and Five Easy Pieces. Cybil Shepperd is not in the film. If you want to read some good plays, read Sam Shepard. Try "Fool for Love".

Somewhere Outside of Paris, Texas

We are staying tonight in a town outside of Paris, Texas, in a Super 8 at $49.00/night (!). The town is proud of its history. We're visiting their museum tomorrow morning. We had dinner at their cafe a couple of hours ago and it was superb. I had catfish, collard greens, and a scoop of broccoli/rice/cheese casserole. This was my first meal with collard greens and they were delicious. The waitress was semi-horrified that I asked about having a beer. She said that no one asks for that at dinner, that she is not especially opposed to it, it's just that, well, no one has ever asked before. I asked in Stillwater if they offered wine with dinner and they said "no". I will find that in Austin, certainly.

I love Tulsa. It's such a pretty city, with interesting architecture, not much of that modern stuff that is so uninspiring. The Arkansas River runs through the town. We had a great room, a suite actually, with lots of space. This morning we went to Cain's Ballroom, where Marc and Josh held the Red Dirt concert and awards a couple of years ago. The family that is running it removed the drop ceiling, exposing these terrific rafters. Kathy and I bought t-shirts. But the best news is that one of the guys who runs Cain's remembered Marc and Josh. The place is lined with pictures of those who have played Cains and I was surprised to find that I recognized many of the names. Bob Dylan played there. Dweezil Zappa, Frank's son, plays there in August. I saw Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention with my brother Bill in 1970. We met Frank Zappa backstage and Bill said something that made Frank Zappa laugh.

About Paris, Texas. There's a movie that took place there, circa 1971, I believe. I think Sam Sheppard was either in it or wrote the screenplay and I think Cybil Shepperd may have been in it. I started watching the movie a couple of months ago, then stopped. It seems to me it's one of those 1970's bleak movies where filmdom was experimenting with heavier themes. It never went away. The first bleak theme movie I saw was Midnight Cowboy where I had to argue to get into the theatre, at age 17. I watched it a few months ago and think it was a good film for its time, although there was some confusion around a couple of themes (reviewers had those same confusions). But that film dealt with alienation, leaving home, fringe jackets, and other things that must happen but are hard when you're faced with them. I have never had a fringe jacket, but I did have a leather fringe purse in 1969. But don't get me started.

Tomorrow, after we visit the museum, we'll head to Austin. I have a morning yoga class on Friday. This part of the trip, where we traced Marc's steps, has been a true success, with everything falling into place. We couldn't have asked for more.

If, this weekend, it is cold in Seattle and you are looking for a great movie, rent the dvd "Notes on a Scandal". It stars Cate Blanchett and Judi Dench in excellent performances. Judi Dench is the consummate narcissist, so that's lots of fun. Cate Blanchett is good in everything she does. The movie is only around 90 minutes, thank heavens.

I've had 5 days away from writing my book and have solved a couple of major problems with it by simply reflecting, mile after mile, as we drive. My decisision is to write in a relationship between mother and daughter, something I've tried to avoid. But it's a missing piece, one that the protagonist comments on. It's a major step to add the relationship, and means not only writing but re-arranging my book. I'm up for it, though.

That's it from here.

Leaving Stillwater

We left Stillwater this morning, heading for the Tall Grass Prairie Reserve, which promised bison and beautiful plains. It delivered on the latter. I was never one for Little House on the Prairie, couldn't find the beauty in it (too much gingham), but now am a plainslover. The land had never been tilled so we were looking at the land as the pioneers saw it. It was hot and the bugs were buzzing, and privileged individual that I am, I thought there should be a restaurant to go along with it. We drove for hours and didn't find a restaurant. I longed for a glass of wine and all I could find was tropical sugar water in a plastic bottle. We finally hit Tulsa and drove along the Arkansas River, finding restaurant row and landing in a noisy place. I ordered a chicken sandwich that was delicious and ate a few of Kathy's french fries. Those are some high-standard french fries.

Kathy is suffering from one of those unparallelled headaches plus upset stomach. We found a hotel suite in Tulsa that has a good air conditioning system and lots of space. It's dark and quiet here. She just asked me to turn *down* the air conditioning, something I have never heard from her. Tulsa is a lovely city, very pretty, very clean. Their downtown area was person-free at 6:30 this evening, all sidewalks rolled up. That suggests balance. We want to see Cain's tomorrow, the venue where Marc and Josh held the Red Dirt concert and award show. There are a number of yoga studios in Tulsa, surprisingly many, and I may get to squeeze in a little stretch.

Two individuals have registered dissenting votes on the crop pant issue. They will remain unnamed except Rosemary, who has confessed to bringing along a couple of pairs. She tells me that she has actually worn one pair, which were perhaps a little on the long side. Kathy said, "Those? I thought they were floods." Rosemary is a little nervous about some supposed judgement that may be coming her way from me. I think that I have been only fair in my discussion of crop pants. The Other Person who has dissented has registered her opinion in the comment section of yesterday's blog. I know who she is, although she has tried to remain anonymous. I can only say to her the famous line from the famous song: You know you love it, cause it makes you feel good.

I want to point out to the women of America that the men of American are following them in their crop pants wearing habit. Yes, I have seen several men wearing crop pants. I see a parallel to the Eve bites the apple then offers it to Adam story. Then let's advance a few thousand years and note that none of the more prominent disciples wore crop pants. No one of any significant importance has done a noteworthy act wearing crop pants. Except perhaps the french.

Not to belabor the point, but let me just say that I am in the throes of designing The Ugliest Outfit in America, which includes, of course, crop pants. Here's a hint. Think three words: Reversible Turquoise Poplin.

Before leaving Seattle, I purchased something called a "life hammer". $25.00. This tool, the only tool I have ever purchased, will cut your seat belt and knock out the window of your vehicle if you go over a bridge and your car is submerged. I learned this fear while watching Oprah. I had never had this fear before. It was one of those "I can't believe I got out of this" shows where survivors from around the country told of their harrowing escapes from accidents the likes of which you could never imagine. If you're under water you can't open the door to escape and swim up because you can't open the door against the pressure of the water. You have to knock out the window. What will you use? Your credit card? Your cell phone? I think not. Brookstone sells the "life hammer".

Oklahoma is a friendly state. It's greener than I had imagined. The grasses smell sweet, the birds are different than in the Pacific Northwest, and it has been a pleasure to be here.

Austin tomorrow, more than likely. We have numerous family members of Kathy's to visit, none of whom I have met except Arleen.

A Day I Wish Would Go On Forever

This was a poignant day. We met Josh, who Marc organized the Red Dirt concert and music awards with in 2003. Josh is a generous, intelligent person who filled in some of the picture of what Marc loved. We also visited The Rooster, a tavern where two members of No Justice were performing. Rosemary had the video camera going. The music is outstanding. Kathy listened intently and connected to the music and the scene and must have been thinking about Marc.

Josh took us to a bbq restaurant in Stillwater where we had what I consider to be real bbq. I had chicken and fried okra, which looks a lot like tater tots but tastes like a spicey vegetable. I also had the best white bread I've ever eaten. And we had apple cobbler which was out of this world.

There are crickets and moths all over Stillwater. The moths, which are going nuts around the lights in the parking lot of the Best Western, get you ready for the popcorn ceiling of the hotel. You look up, and there's a chaotic scene of zillions of bumps.

It's a funny thing to be watching good guitar on stage. My brother Bill, who died 18 years ago, was an excellent guitar player and I haven't been able to watch guitar performances ever since. Tonight I watched the musician's hands and I remembered Bill. I grew up in a house where Bill played guitar all the time when he wasn't drumming. Bill's music was everywhere in our house. He loved music the way Marc loved music. I don't love it the way they did, in other words, I don't have the intensity. But I'll tell you, being a teenager was about the music. In the summer of 1967, the Summer of Love as it is known, I was in our side yard in Medford and Bill brought a radio out and said, "Here's the song I've wanted you to hear. It's Light My Fire by a band called the Doors. It's the music of the future." It was the long version and we listened. He looked at me to see if I "got it". I did indeed.

Many of you have written or called about my disdain for crop pants. You, too, find disfavor with this style element. It may be that we must band together, forming a movement against the crop pant. I have always wanted to serve humanity, making the world a better place, and I wonder if where I can do this is by mobilizing an anti-crop pant movement. Would you join? I think marches and leafletting, embargos, refusals to buy, moratoriums, boycotting advertisers whose commercials are on television shows where women wear crop pants. It worked with grapes. We could burn crop pants in the town square. We can throw my two pair on top of the fire. Someone has to do something. I am designing a crop pant outfit that I will describe in a later blog, an outfit that will rile you up, fill you with horror and rage. This is something for you to look forward to.

I'm reading Vollman's "Poor People", a book where the writer went out into the world and asked people why they are poor. There are no statistics, no solutions. There's just the story of poverty and conjecture in the lives of the poor. It is excellent.

You will want to know what I wore today. I put aside the safari pants and brought out the navy blue linen slacks (new, Orvis) and an elderly red linen shirt with princess seams. The whole outfit worked. For dinner, I wore Nordstrom's DKNY jeans and an Orvis buzz-off white t-shirt, hoping to prevent moth interest. That was another hit. As far as the Orvis safari pants, I'll probably wear them to the prairie thing we're doing tomorrow. The buffalo have quite a treat in store.

And now we know

We're just in from a little tavern south of OSU campus called Roosters listening to Steve Rice and Brandon Jackson (No Justice) singing and playing acoustic guitar. I totally get why Marc loved Red Dirt music. These guys are quite talented and it makes me want to start getting out and hearing live music locally. We'll definitely get to hear more in Austin, but I feel very fortunate that we were able to come to Stillwater and have such a warm reception.

Now, I must admit that I felt a bit self conscious sitting in that smoke filled room with a bunch of twenty somethings (barely), but what's 30 years or so between strangers?

Josh Quillin (aka 'Conoco Guy' - www.reddirtscene.com) met us earlier this evening and we talked over a terrific Oklahoma BBQ dinner. Josh knew Marc--in fact, they put together the First Annual Red Dirt Music Awards at Cain's Ballroom in Tulsa, OK in November of 2003. What an undertaking--more on that later. Josh brought us tee shirts from the awards show, the DVD set of the concert, and brought some gifts from the band, No Justice, including 2 CDs and an autographed photo. We finally got some insight into Red Dirt Music, that had its origins here in Stillwater with bands like the Great Divide. Some people call it Texas Country, some call it "AltCountry", folk, you name it.... Anyway, you get the picture. It's just one of those things in life that you cant categorize as black or white.

Josh and his girlfriend met us at the Rooster tonight, got a table for us all up front, and talked Steve and Brandon to let us video a bit of their performance. What a neat guy. I'm sure his folks are very proud of him--for good reason. Thank you, Josh.

Tomorrow we're getting up early (honest...I swear this time we will really do it) and are taking a day trip to the Osage Indian Reservation north of Tulsa to visit the Tall Grass Prairie Preserve, then back to Stillwater. Hope we get to have some more BBQ. That was really good. G'nite all.



--Kathy

Stillwater, Oklahoma

We have awakened in Stillwater, Oklahoma, having arrived here around 2:00 a.m. We're at the Best Western and have not ventured out to town yet. It looks warm from the window, with deciduous trees and a little breeze. We've had hotel room coffee, in fact, may be on our second pot. Rosemary and Kathy pulled out their computers at 2:20 a.m. when I had the sense to pull the covers over my head.

The drive from Austin to Stillwater gave us the best view of central Texas that anyone could ask. Texas looks like a very expansive Oregon to me, although hot and treeless. We made one major stop in Dallas to swap out the car, which had seat designs that were killing us. Dallas went on for miles. We had dinner outside of Dallas at the Salt Grass and it was good. I had a Texas wine, white, a Reisling that was great. It was the only Texas white wine on the menu but my commitment is to sample local wines and we hear that Texas wines are good. They seem proud of them on the billboards. Texans have a lot to say on their billboards and their t-shirts. My favorite t-shirt of the day was "Satan is a nerd". I hadn't ever really thought of it this way.

You're wondering, no doubt, how the safari pants that I purchased at Orvis are working out. Let me just say that they are the finest travel pants a woman can own in their price range. They went through so much on the flight and then the road trip portion of the show. They are the pants that just keep giving. Today I will move into linen, another Orvis purchase, and I will report soon about those.

We're asking people, Texans mostly, what they listen to as far as music and if there's been a shift in politics. There has been a shift in Texan politics, although the billboards will not reflect that.

Today, probably this evening, we will meet with Marc's friend, Josh. We're hearing red dirt country music tonight where a guitarist who played with Eric Clapton will perform. He is a part of the band "Local Justice"; they're playing in Austin in a couple of nights. It would be interesting to interview Local Justice members about red dirt country music. We have the video camera (Rosemary's) up and running.

Stillwater is the educational capital of the state. It's where Oklahoma State University is located. We're following the Stillwater website, and see a number of things to do, including agricultural sightseeing. Being an Oregon semi-rural girl, I can go for that. I like sweet, country places, and that's what we'll have here in Stillwater. There's a vineyard, too, and we may take a look at that.

I can see why Marc liked Texas and Oklahoma.

Entering the Velcro Years

We're within 27 hours of takeoff time. We are making phone calls, ironing and Kathy is working. In 50 hours, we'll be in Stillwater, Oklahoma, staying at the Best Western. How many people can say that?

I took my cute unworn Naot sandals back to Shoes N Feet, exchanging them for Teresias with a velcro closure rather than the buckle. The Teresias are marvelous, as would the Naots have been. But velcro is easier than buckles. We all come to that conclusion in our lives if we live that long.

My wardrobe is assembled: Two pairs of linen pants, which will keep me cool while bagging out badly, one pair of white jeans, a pair of black shorts, and, to be worn on the plane, safari pants, which I described in more detail just two weeks ago. Three linen tops, none of which I will bother to iron before packing, one really darling black linen pintuck jacket from Orvis. The jacket is a crossover piece. It will serve as recreationwear and will take me to work (my new job starts two months from today). Two t-shirts, yoga clothes.

I would like to lodge a web-complaint about crop pants. I own two pair and notice (see above paragraph) that they are not going on the trip with me. I bought one pair at Costco last year when visiting Jan and Candy and wore them 16 hours a day, everyday. I bought another pair in Kuaui. But these things have no shape, have nothing to recommend them at all. We are looking for a pair of lightweight full length normalwear pants for Kathy and all we could find were crop pants. Clothing retailers, we are not all spending all of our time this summer in the pea patch or oppressing the children at the beach. We need full-length pants. Even the saleswoman said so. And she should know.

Novels ask questions and then answer them. The questions/issues I am addressing in mine are:

1) What kind of world is this anyway?
2) Fairness
3) What do we do about the suffering of others?
4) Connection

Two days before we leave

I've talked to numerous Stillwaterites while looking for a hotel and hear that the rain has cooled down the town. Stillwater sounds like a sweet place, population 40,000 with trails and friendly people. Someone has written comments that go that she invited a big city friend to Stillwater. When they walked downtown, a man passed them, tipped his hat, and said "Howdy m'am". The visiting friend asked if her Stillwater friend had paid the guy to do that. Being from a formerly small town in southern Oregon, I know that those things still happen, and that those manners are so wonderful that they will break your heart.

I have decided against taking the book I'm writing on the trip. I will take a vacation from the writing and concentrate on my first trip to Texas and Oklahoma and Kathy. We will be seeing what Marc saw and that's what we should concentrate on.

Oh, and about my book, I have around 50,000 words, with 66,000 being the average size of a novel. It's not the number, it's the quality that counts, of course. I definitely have the story and the voice, which tells the story first person and in a soundalike third person. This is the story of a thirteen year old girl whose mother suddenly takes she and her younger brother to live in a housing project. It is a story of sudden poverty. Starring in the book are Davey, a younger brother who always makes the best of things, Laura, the mother who develops a brain tumor, Rebecca, a thirteen year old girl who watches and listens and also witnesses something terrible, and Dorothea, the 45 year old next door neighbor who has her own story. There are observations about the housing project, to suit any sociologists on board, and observations about families, to suit any psychologists on board ("Mother is everywhere").

One of the great mysteries of the past few days is why there are so few rooms available in Stillwater. Their graduations have come and gone. Stillwaterites themselves do not know why the hotels are all booked. I contend that a movie is about to be filmed there and the location has been kept secret so that the paparazzi do not descend. Kathy and Rosemary and I are making a documentary on Marc, which I think will morph into a documentary about red dirt country music vs Nashville country music. Marc loved red dirt country music.

The Austin leg of the trip should be a blast. We're hearing that there are streets filled with venues where country music is played constantly. That must be what Marc loved about Austin. Kathy will love that. So far, we're not getting cowboy boots but I'm willing to place money on this: One of us will get them, and it won't be me.

Almost ready

I suppose it is time for me to post again. We are almost ready to go. Just a few minor details...lilke what to wear...seat assignments for our flight to Austin...stuff like that. We've had a heck of a time getting a hotel reservation in Stillwater, OK. The reservation people at the 200 hotels we've tried don't seem to know what's going on in Stillwater...just that they are booked. I think Peggy finally snagged the last room at a Best Western in Stillwater last night, so perhaps it will all work out.

And yes, they'll be hearing that sunshine song...A LOT!

Kathy

First, the wardrobe

We are making airline reservations, which isn't the way you do a road trip, but decided to fly a long portion of the way. We're flying to Austin and then driving to Oklahoma when the visit to Austin is done. I'm looking forward to the flight, to meeting Richard and Amber and seeing Arleen, and seeing Austin, a city everyone seems to like.

Kathy and I visited Orvis, a store that sells outdoor clothes, today. I want to be as comfortable as possible, so was looking for just the right set of clothes. I'm not a tank top and shorts kind of gal. at least not any longer. In Kuaui, I spotted a couple of women staying cool while looking cool in safari clothes, which were in contrast to my wild print blouse and horrid crop pants, especially since on that particular day I had elected to add white anklets to the black sandals. I'm afraid there's a picture of this out there somewhere and I'd pay to get it back.

At Orvis, I found safari cargo pants of a light weight and a white bug-proof blouse with flaps and flips and vents, zippers and buttons, an entire luggage set folded into one blouse. Kathy insisted I get a white t-shirt. If I can scrounge up enough hotwear in the deep recesses of my closet, I may be able to leave the Hawaii-wear home and give the Oklahomans a break (and never be blackmailed again by a picture of me as Public Dork #1).

Now if we can just get Kathy to sing that sunbeam song.

Yoga in Tulsa

I'm lining up our yoga in Tulsa. Inner Peace Yoga just responded; they'd be glad to have us. Visit their website at InnerPeaceYogaTulsa. That studio offers "soft yoga" and at least one therapeutic class. They have a handy list of hints that will tell you if you're heading toward inner peace. I could be there in a few thousand years.

There are a lot of ways to say it, but I've been thinking that being less opinionated releases a big burden. I may have to do that as we struggle along in the presidential race.

I'm looking for yoga in Austin, too. One of my teachers is from Houston, but I'll bet she can line us up with yoga in Austin. Stay tuned.

Namaste, as they say.

But what will I wear?

It's already hot in Tulsa. We'll be there in one month. Here's the question that is always uppermost in my mind: But what will I wear? The JK Jill catalogue came yesterday and I enjoyed flipping through it this morning but I still can't see myself in crop pants. They've been in style for years now. As a kid, I wore pedal pushers, and that's what crop pants are. But the length stops at an unfortunate part of the leg and only those who have knees they hate could love a crop pant. Buy shorts. Get real: The knee is just a major joint, so how gorgeous can it be?
Take care of your knees, by the way.

I like the JK Jill line because their shoes don't have heels. Not even kitten heels. The models wear no-to-low heel sandals and in the winter wear low heel shoes. Somebody's thinking. High heels may extend your leg line, but you put yourself into a yoga class after a few decades of high heels, or even a few years, and you've got alignment problems galore. Tightened and shortened everything. Years of lengthening ahead, the kind that high heels can't help you with. If you want to test that out, do a forward bend, the kind you learn in yoga. Stand or sit and bend, oh, somewhere around your waist. Keep your back straight as you bend. Good luck with that.

Tonight's South Park episode is the one where Butter is bi-curious. His parents send him to a camp for fear and oppression purposes. Butter is my favorite SP character. Observations spill out of him. He's right about everything, but it all comes out in question form or just a plain old declaration. Butter cuts through it. If any of the little South Parkians has any talent that they can grow up and market (to be determined), it will be Butter, who I predict will write. This is one of the episodes that I think Marc and I would have liked to watch together, so tonight I'll watch, and think of Marc (and laugh as though he is with us).

Tulsa Weather

It's about 80 degrees in Tulsa today and I wish was there. I love warm weather and almost always almost warm up in it. Tomorrow I'll check the web for places of interest in Tulsa, and will also look at a map of the State of Oklahoma. We leave in not quite a month.

I have spent the day so far writing, working on chapter 3 of my book. After reading Prose's book on reading and writing, I understand more about the task I'm faced with. Write once, re-write a thousand times. I have done one re-write, which included the large task of putting the book into the first person Dorothea (age 50) perspective with a sidekick being third person omnisient voice for the things that Dorothea cannot see or hear. I had envisioned the book being written from first person Rebecca (age 13), but that's too hard for this first-time novel writer. It's possible that I'll do the whole book in third person omniscient. There's a lot of work to be done. My questions continue: Who saw what? Who knows what? Why did she do that?

Do you know that when you read, the story is more believable if the writer adds detail? I saw a movie recently where the story was too tragic to want to believe, and yet one of the main characters, in one of the most difficult scenes, ordered key lime pie and a Tab. I knew that I was seeing the re-enactment of something that had truly happened. It was the detail of what she ordered that did it for me.

What is there to see in Tulsa?

Pegalou checks in

This is my first post. I just spent a few days at the Whiteley Center on beautiful San Juan Island, writing the crisis chapter of my book. The crisis always occurs 90% of the way through a novel. My novel's crisis went well, with no resolution, but everyone's to blame, they're talking straight out of their subconscious, and nobody's talking about the same thing. Yes, that's right, it's about a family. I have wanted to write a happy ending, but the thing is that in a novel, your reader absolutely must "buy" the reality that the writer is putting her into and who would buy that a novel about a family has a happy ending? Perhaps I will just let the thing end.

So, in a month, Kathy, Rosemary and I are packing up my father's car and heading to Tulsa. I have no idea what to expect, but am wise enough to know that whatever I picture won't happen. It's an American road trip, so things are unpredictable.

Marc would like the idea of us seeing red dirt country. I'm not a big country music fan and I don't know the difference between red dirt country music and other-colored dirt country music. What I know is that Marc loved what he loved, and he was a big proponent of red dirt. He was an expert in it, too.

Many of our more entertaining exchanges were based on a common characteristic - we both have bent senses of humor. We both liked South Park, although my line and when I turn off the program are different than his line and what had to be crossed for him to turn off the t.v.

I miss Marc and always will. But I will look out the window of my father's car and see the Oklahoma and Texas landscape, and know that what I am seeing is what Marc Ringwood saw.

Friday, April 25th

Rosemary has joined in as a contributor. We're still waiting for Peggy to recouperate from her week at the Whitely Center and then, perhaps, she'll join us.