Texas Traveling: Enchanted Rock

Photo via im me

We traveled far and wide when I was growing up, but the only legitimate hike I can ever remember doing as a family was climbing up Enchanted Rock near Fredericksburg, Texas. Honestly, I have no idea what possessed us to stop. Perhaps it was a desperate attempt to tire two annoying kids. Whatever the reason, that majestic rock embedded itself in my conscious and became a bit of a mile marker in my life. I found myself revisiting it later in life, first, with my friend Audrey and later with my brother. Standing atop that pink granite rock felt powerful.

Enchanted Rock rises 1,825 feet above sea level which, according to the Texas Parks and Wildlife Department, is akin to a 30 to 40 story building. Not too shabby for Texas. Evidently, there are more than 40 different climbs you can do and a whole slew of information about what you can and cannot do when climbing. However, there is a fairly straightforward (though steep at times) trail up the front of the rock for those who aren't rock climbers (raises hand).


Look how young we were! I'm the one with the red hair in the photo near the top.

If you love a good story, the rock is shrouded in mystery and legend. Visitors talk of seeing spirit fires (flashes of light) at night and how groans and pops have been known to permeate the night. Don't worry, it's just the rock expanding and contracting with temperature changes. If you prefer something a bit more lively, just ask the park rangers about the legend of the young Native American maiden who is said to haunt the rock.

While Enchanted Rock pales in comparison to some of the west's more famous rock features, it's worth planning a day trip to Fredericksburg for those making the trek to Austin. Both Enchanted Rock and Fredericksburg are in an area of Texas that historically had a large German settlement. If you choose to spend some time in Fredericksburg proper (and you should), there are a ton of shops as you stroll downtown, wineries known for use of the famous Fredericksburg peach, and several German restaurants worth a try.

A word to the wise, consider a trip to the rock in the spring or fall to avoid the scorching Texas heat on this bald rock and arrive early to ensure you make it in (particularly important on weekends).

Love letter to local bookstores

There are a few different barometers that I judge cities, towns, and villages by when traveling. However, without fail, I always keep my eye out for local bookstores and coffee shops. These are my third spaces, where I go to connect, to observe, to be. Hidden just beneath the surface is a part of me that believes that, if I find these spaces in a new town, I could be happy there...that I would find my people.

For a town of its size, San Angelo* is virtually replete with bookstores. We never warranted a Borders or Barnes & Noble (remind me to tell you about my first visit to a BN in Austin a bit later), but the local mall did have what would later be their smaller subsidiaries, B. Dalton and Waldenbooks. I spent many hours here perched on step stools reading through the teen paperbacks. Neither of these stores survived my teenage years.

Perhaps the most cherished bookstore (and bookstore memory) of my youth is Hastings. It will always be the cool, independent bookstore where I first discovered Smashing Pumpkins (Siamese Dream) and could spend hours browsing all of the books. I yearned to be cool enough to belong in that store. Even though I've outgrown Hastings' local book selection and the store itself has outgrown the label of small and indie, it remains on my visit list when I head home.

Local book culture seems to be hanging on (perhaps even thriving?) in San Angelo. In 2012, the county spent $12M to refurbish a vacant department store downtown and turn it into the new Stephens Central Library. Rita's Book Exchange and Ye Ole Fantastique Book Shoppe are used bookstores that have been around for years. And, during this trip, I finally made it into Cactus Book Shop.

There is something special about a bookstore that can build a space and community around a niche topic (think Reiter's Books and their focus on scientific, medical, and technical books in DC). The Cactus Book Shop does just that with its focus on Texas and the Southwest. My experience with reading westerns only extends as far as Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry (fantastic) and last year's reading of The Sisters Brothers by Patrick DeWitt. I am, however, a huge proponent of soaking up the local culture of wherever you happen to travel, and bookstores provide an awesome opportunity to learn about new authors and topics.

Even though I grew up in San Angelo, I got caught up in the heady possibility of immersing myself in the culture almost immediately upon walking in the door. My mom might have thought I was a bit touched (Texan for crazy) when she spotted me picking up title after title, but she's nothing if not supportive and bought me the Rivers of Texas you see pictured above. I also picked up The Time It Never Rained by Elmer Kelton (local western hero) and Crossing Rio Pecos by Patrick Dearen (Modern Farmer came from Hastings). Clearly, I was also letting my river nerd flag fly.

Do you ever visit local bookstores when you travel? Share some of your favorites!



* where I was born and grew up

On missing my grandma

 I've been missing my grandma lately, and this evening it hit me that maybe it's because the anniversary of her death just passed. She shares that with Teddy Kennedy.

Maybe it's because the Simpsons have been airing daily in syndication on one of my non-cable channels. She loved Bart Simpson something fierce and even had a stuffed doll. I never did understand her love for the Simpsons.

Maybe it's because Tiger Woods has been in the news. She used to love to watch Tiger Woods play golf. I never understood that either.

Maybe it's because I edited the first few pages of my novel (for a thing), and the grandma character is based almost entirely on my own.

Maybe it's just because I love her.

Roots, or proof that chronic bitchface is hereditary

I'm obsessed with this photo my mom picked up from my great aunt this weekend. It's my grandma's side of the family circa 1864. My mom's been researching the family history, and I'm not sure she's aware how into it I am.

This is the McMillian clan, and evidently, they were proficient at childbearing (wasn't everybody?). The great grandma I knew briefly growing up is on the front row, second from the left. I spent quite a bit of time looking at all of the ladies and trying to see if I could find any of myself in them. Know what is apparent? The lineage for my chronic bitchface goes way back. ;-)

5 things you need to keep in mind when eating barbecue in Texas

I am by no means a barbecue savant. Still, you can guarantee I'll (1) always have barbecue when I travel back to Texas and (2) crave it when I'm hanging around vegans. I didn't leave San Angelo on my most recent trip, but I managed to eat at both Bodacious Bar-B-Q and Bubba's. As I was scooping ice out of Bubba's cooler, it occurred to me that there are five things* you need to keep in mind when eating barbecue in Texas.

1. There will always be a loaf of white bread on the table.
2. Do not think about whose hands have been inside that bag.
3. Things could get messy, so make sure you've also got the roll of paper towels.
4. It's as much about the sides as it is the meat.
5. Speaking of meat, you'll probably have to pick out your own. Don't worry, I've never seen them name it.


*These things may hold true in other states, too, but it hasn't been my experience with Virginia barbecue.

December in West Texas

I'm currently home in Texas enjoying the holidays with my family. While I'm here, I've been sure to gather stories, think about goals for 2013 and work on finishing that book I started writing.

See you in the new year!

Train travelogue, final notes on my journey

You may remember a little (*cough* 53-hour) train trip I took from DC to Texas in December. I've been waiting until I sorted through some of my video to write more about it. Of course, if you follow me on twitter, you probably already saw my train travelogue. I took a similar trip a few years ago and loved it. It should then come as no surprise that I went into this trip completely romanticizing the journey.

Maybe it was because I'm almost ten years older or perhaps because the train was a lot more crowded, but it didn't turn out to be the inspiring trip that I expected. Despite the unexpected, there is always so much to take away. I've grown to love the Texas countryside after years of craving mountains, greenery, and trees.


I didn't realize it until I was midway through my trip, but one of the things I like most about trips like this is people watching. Trains are chock full of a variety of different characters. As I watched the way they interacted with each other, it occurred to me that I was developing plot lines around this not-so-merry band of travelers.

Spending as much time as possible in the observation and cafe cars, I left myself open to random conversations with my fellow travelers. The conversation that will stick with me most is an early morning chat over coffee with a Chicago nun on her way to West Virginia to visit her sister. Her demeanor was infectious, and her stories of bear spotting and dancing at midnight in a meadow are the reason I'd consider doing it all again.

Some of my favorite notes (made to myself on my phone) include:

"Love gained and lost. Plaid pajama pants. Smoke break relationships."

"In real life, people who hook up aren't always attractive. The unfortunate and downtrodden also seek solace in each other."

That last note might seem a little harsh, but you weren't witness to the things I was during the witching hour in the observation car.

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas, everyone!

We wrapped up a lovely celebration tonight with Super 8 and a few intense rounds of Uno. Getting to spend time with my family is the best part of the holidays. I hope everyone gets to spend it with someone they love.

Passing on holiday food traditions

 
Christmas 2008, at the nursing home

The holiday season always sparks conversations about traditions, often centered around food, among my friends. This Thanksgiving was no different. I find historic and regional eating habits fascinating.

After our conversation on Thursday, I found myself flipping through a cookbook my mom and grandma made for me a year or so after I moved up north. While there aren't stories accompanying the recipes, reading over many of the entries transported me back to our kitchen table. I've included a couple of recipes below.
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Long Boy Cheeseburger - These beauties were a Christmas Eve staple. They were sort of like an open-faced burger baked in the oven. Topped with ketchup, they were tasty and a quick fix before we began opening presents. 

In a 2-qt bowl, mix the following ingredients: 1 lb ground beef, 1 tsp salt, 1/4 tsp pepper, 1/4 cup catsup or chili sauce, 1/4 chopped onion, 1/2 cup cornflakes, and 1/2 evaporated milk.
 
Cut three 6-inch Brown 'n Serve french rolls in half lengthwise. Put equal parts of the meat mixture on the cut side of each roll. Spread evenly.
 
Bake on a cookie sheet at 375 degrees about 20-25 minutes or until the beef is done. During the last 5 minutes of baking, top with a slice of American cheese. Serve.
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Cookie Logs - Charlie and I called these turds (because, let's face it, that's exactly what they looked like). Despite our disgusting nickname for them, they were my favorite Christmas treat. I'm pretty sure they made an appearance on every tray my grandma sent to my mom and grandpa's offices and to school.
 
1 lb powdered sugar, 1 cup chopped pecans, 1 cup chunky peanut butter, 1 tsp vanilla, 1 cup coconut, 1 cup crushed vanilla wafers, 1 cup melted margarine
 
Mix all together and roll into logs. Put in the refrigerator and chill. Then, melt chocolate bark with about 1 tbsp of shortening. Dips logs into the chocolate. Let set.
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I would love to start a collection of regional cookbooks. I've been kicking myself for passing up a cookbook of recipes from the Crooked Road, Virginia's scenic music trail. I spotted it a few weeks ago while in Rocky Mount on a work trip. If you're interested in regional food culture and oral histories, you should check out the new Foodways project in Texas.

Meet Suzy

Evidently, this is the first doll* I ever owned. Considering I got her in 1976, she looks pretty good (don't mind the missing finger) for a gal her age. I don't remember much about her other than she was a favorite. Anyway, my mom and I attempted** to clean out a box of my old stuff while I was home, and it was decided that Suzy was coming home with me.

* A little internet research reveals that she's part of the Fisher Price "My Friend Doll" series. "Audrey" was on sale from 1974-1976. Ha! I scoff at given names and declared her "Suzy".
** Someone had a hard time letting some things go. Hint: it wasn't me.

With a little help from my friends

My mom drove me to my conference in Galveston last week. For those of you unfamiliar with the geography of Texas, that's roughly an 8 hour drive (9 when you factor in stops).

From the sparse desert to the coastal estuary we roadtripped, and like any good journey, we needed some theme music. I went with a combination of old school and newer indie folk with a little Willie Nelson thrown in for good measure (because, seriously, what's better than driving through Texas with a little Willie). I thought I'd share our playlist below (though these versions may not match). Some hits, some misses but a good time all around.

As for the beach shots, don't be jealous. The two pictures I've posted are as close as I ever got to the beach.




Create a playlist at MixPod.com

Last train to Clarksville

Today was my last day in San Angelo (this trip), so we did a bit more roaming around the town. I've been wanting to see the newest exhibit at the San Angelo Museum of Fine Arts, Good Design: Stories from Herman Miller.

While the building is cool and a symbol of one of the better things about San Angelo, one of the things that keeps it from being truly outstanding is that the space is really only conducive to hosting one or two exhibits at a time. Flaws of weak exhibits glitter under the neon sign of failure, and even strong offerings by the museum can be a bit of a let down when they take all of 10 minutes to enjoy. Everyone likes a quickie every now and then, but sometimes you want something you can really sink your teeth into.

Anyway, I digress. I enjoyed the Herman Miller exhibit largely because I had no expectations. I was impressed with the effort they put into the graphic displays and telling the story. Was there much in the way of actual furniture? Not really. Most of what was on display can be found at some of the better thrift stores and antique malls around the country. Disconcerting that I've touched and sat in originals like the ones on display and yet was unable to even take a photo today.

The museum was also hosting an Indian festival today, so be browsed a couple of the tables there, and I took up their offer of a bindhi. I think I'm hooked. I want to wear one every day :-)

For lunch, we headed to Miss Hattie's for one of the burgers Texas Monthly dubbed one of the best in Texas. In addition to the tasty burger (I had the Triple XXX), I like the tawdry history of Miss Hattie's in that it was a bordello until 1946. The irony of passing under a White Ribbon Against Pornography banner just a couple of blocks away was not lost on me.

It was a nice way to spend my last day in San Angelo.

June Cleaver

Pyrex. Oh those coveted bowls and dishes. They are sought, collected, displayed and cherished by people all around the country.


Photo by Tofutti Break

My own beady eyes have scanned shelves at thrift stores for the pretty colors and patterns, attracted to simple styling and sturdiness, and I know I'm not alone. I've generally got a pal by my side who is just as enamored and cradling a slew of stacked bowls in her arms.


Photo by Leigh Kelsey

I never really stopped to think about why, past the aesthetic appeal, owning Pyrex provided such satisfaction. However, as I began making dinner at my mom's house tonight, I found myself headed to that familiar shelf in the cabinet where she keeps her Pyrex casserole dishes. As I pulled it down, I realized that it's the connection to my past and the stories of growing up that drive me to inadvertently seek out that Pyrex casserole dish.

While just a piece of glass, the brand is also my grandmother teaching me how to make a lasagna...Thanksgivings around the kitchen table...watching my mom make crazy cakes (Better Than Sex cake, anyone?) for special occasions.


Photo by Curtis Cronn

No country for old men

Note: I apologize for all the Texas posting, folks. I'm not obsessed. It's just so much easier to capture my memories and thoughts of the state while I'm knee-deep in the culture. I'm here 'til the 18th, so bear with me.

The West Texas landscape is unforgiving. Mile after mile of mesquite and cactus. Dry creek beds where, in more hospitable climates, you would see water flowing.

Back when I called Texas home, the drive was something to be endured. Highways became familiar and monotonous after traveling to Friday away games in the back of a yellow bus, weekend getaways and Sunday drives. However, time and distance provide a refreshed perspective. Stark transforms into beautiful. Flat suddenly feel expansive, providing breathing room for days.

35

I turned 35 today. Holy cow. For the first time in 12 years, I spent my birthday in Texas. My day...in pictures.




We hit up Saturday at the Chicken Farm Art Center.


We ended up running into a parade on our way downtown. I tried to tell myself the celebration was for me.




Modeling a bag we decided would be better suited to life as a pet.


Wandering around downtown.


A bowl my mom bought for me at the Chicken Farm.


Vintage bow ties I picked up. So excited to use these for future crafty endeavors.


Dinner!


Cake :-)

Just another day in the neighborhood

I took a break from working today and actually escaped the house. It hit me last night that I hadn't so much as walked outside since Sunday evening and had, instead, been virtually tethered to the family recliner, pounding away on my laptop keys trying to meet work deadlines. Un.heal.thy.

So, with Texas temperatures finally cooperating, I took a break to run some errands with my mom's car. Angelo State University was my first stop, the alma mater that I hadn't seen since I graduated 12 years ago (gulp). I went with the purpose of visiting a high school friend who is now a lecturer with the math department. I spend so much time whenever I'm in San Angelo trying to avoid anyone I might possibly have known in high school, so I decided to take a different tactic this time. The more evolved part of my brain decided I should actively seek out the people I know (and know where they are) in order to just face the awkward small talk head on. With that in mind, I girded my loins and made the drive.

Small talk did indeed happen. I heard all about the kids and family vacations. There was also the obligatory discussion about whether we kept in touch with anyone else from high school. Despite the mundane conversation, it was what it should have been...a decent way for two people who used to be close to share part of their lives and a much better way to make a connection than friending someone on Facebook.

Cupcakes and the support of a local independent business were next on my agenda.



My mom has been talking about a new cupcake shop that opened inside a local florist, so in my quest to sample new cupcakes wherever I travel, I went to pick up a few for the family. I tried my best to be unbiased, but the name had me skeptical before I ever set foot inside the shop. Cakes in a Cup? I understand the desire to be cute and come up with a play on words, but it comes off as more annoying, less clever.



Honestly, though, the name is the least of their worries. While the cupcakes maintain the appearance of similar cupcakes in well-known bakeries throughout DC (*cough* Georgetown Cupcake *cough*), their appeal ends there. I judge all bakeries by their vanilla cupcake and usually a couple more unique flavors. The vanilla cupcake offered up by Cakes in a Cup was one of the worst vanilla cupcakes I have had in a while. The icing was hard and extremely dense. One of the cupcakes above actually rolled over, and the icing didn't even dent. To make matters worse, there was very little flavor outside of huge amounts of sugar. We sampled 3 or 4 of the flavors offered and were continually disappointed (family consensus here). Of the cupcakes we tried, the Freshly Squeezed cupcake was by far the best with a lighter icing and just enough lemon zing. Even this wasn't enough to save the place from my criticism.

So, kids, public service message of the day: If you're ever in San Angelo and feel like a cupcake, skip Cakes in a Cup and go try a cookie from Hauffman's Cake Cottage.

P.S. There are plenty of people I probably wouldn't waste my breath on from high school. Those weren't even in consideration for looking up.
P.S.S. I actually had one more person on my list to look up at ASU but couldn't bring myself to do it. Too much baggage associated with this one just to walk in blindly. Maybe another day.

Search for Stars Hollow: Mason, TX

I feel like it's important to continue cataloging all misses in the search for my own Stars Hollow because maybe not quite right for me is perfect for someone else. On Friday evening, I drove through Mason, Texas en route from Austin to San Angelo. It was dusk, and as I rounded the central courthouse square, I was charmed by the bevy of shops lining the street. A banner strung across the street advertised an upcoming wild game dinner to benefit the community. Secretly, I vowed to convince my mom to come back with me, and true to my word, we were headed there Saturday morning shortly after breakfast at the Charcoal House.

Mason has a population just past 2,000, and like many small towns in Texas it is anchored by a central court house and square. We ended up haphazardly choosing a good day to visit as musicians and artists lined the square to hock their wares.

I hate to admit that the art was mediocre, but whatever, it was. I love bluebonnets and windmills, but I get tired of seeing so much West Texas art feature these symbols in such typical ways. What was truly heartbreaking (to me) was how hungry these guys were for sales. It was awkward to walk down the sidewalk and be pitched so actively. As I passed the work of one artist who caught my eye, I picked up the painting out of curiosity to find out what it was priced and felt so bad for the girl as she stumbled over herself to tell me the price was negotiable. She would have been so much more affective had she stuck by her price and been more confident.

The square itself is lined with an antique mall, a few gift shops, a museum and a couple of cafes. I got the impression the main street economy was geared toward tourists like us as the antique mall was way overpriced, and the other stores along the way had nothing really unique to offer.

Despite some of the Stars Hollow similarities I saw when passing through, I knew Mason wasn't for me when we walked within earshot of some local electioneering at the court house. I didn't linger to find out if the political leanings were right or left, but experience and common sense leads me to believe we would have been at opposite ends of the political spectrum.

In a region where cactus outnumber people, "cool" Fall temperatures are a balmy 82-90 degrees, and the politicians are likely conservative, my Stars Hollow I will not find.

Hey, Paula Cole, the cowboys are here

Conference over, and I'm back in San Angelo until my next Texas conference in a couple of weeks.

After a couple of months away, I always manage to convince myself that San Angelo isn't very western or country.

Clearly, I have an amazing ability to blank on reality. At breakfast this morning, it appeared Wranglers were required for admission, and there were too many cowboy hats to count at dinner.

Round and round

I can't believe my grandmother has been gone a year.
It passed
in the blink of an eye.
I actually missed the anniversary. I feel guilty at not having lived the moment again...not being there for my mom, who I'm sure remembered.
My memory jogged as my mom was telling me about her trip to Michaels yesterday. She went to get flowers and other stuff to decorate my grandmother's grave. My grandmother loved the different seasons and holidays and always believed her house should get a little makeover in
the form of special tea towels, seasonal candles, etc. Now, her grave gets a makeover each season. My mom said my grandfather pointed out that Halloween was my grandmother's favorite and that my mom should get something scary. We laughed, a good, soul-cleansing laugh, while on the phone at the idea of her decorating a gravestone for Halloween. "Mom," I said "don't you think a cemetery and graves are creepy enough?" Tears rolled down my cheeks as we laughed over skeletons and witches and other decorations my mom passed up.
It was good--this laughter--knowing that somewhere she was laughing with me. And, after we got off the phone, I went and hung up some of my grandmother's fall dish towels in my kitchen.

What makes a house a home

It's such a cliche question that is as old as time. Still, it weighs heavily on my mind as the home I grew up in is now on the market. Whether it holds too many memories or is simply an aging house that is too large for a family that has gone from 5 to 2, my mom and grandpa are selling the wood-paneled home of my childhood.

I remember sleeping on the floor of the piano room after my parent's split...the summer spent doubling the size of the house...boyfriends throwing rocks at my bedroom window so I could let them in (this is pre-cell phone people)...making sun tea on the front porch. I haven't lived in this home for more than 12 years; however, it is always there. Its existence is a comfort, my port in the storm. It has been my backup plan for years if this crazy world ever decides to swallow me whole.

The idea of another family living in our home, redesigning our memories, is definitely hard to swallow. However, I'm working on being more selfless in the whole endeavor, so check back with me to see how I fair.