We celebrated our Christmas this year in Austin, Texas. Wayne has worked a show called the Armadillo Christmas Bazaar for more than a decade there, and I finally got to join him this year and see for myself why he loves it so much.
Back at the homestead, where Renovation hangs on like a lingering party guest, I waited for our new backyard fence to be finished (to keep our cats safe at night and grow things without the intervention of deer). Our contractor, John, finished it the day before my flight.
I left for the airport on a surprisingly balmy December afternoon and, like The Accidental Tourist, agreed to relinquish any further control of my journey and let the best thing happen. My plane sat on the tarmac in Medford until after dark for an undisclosed mechanical issue. When we arrived in Salt Lake City everyone dashed off, hoping to catch their flights. I ran faster than I’ve moved since The Great Fall, huffing and puffing with my rolling carry-on for what seemed like a half-mile through dimly-lit tunnels. Even though I had “cheated” for this trip, placing a heel-lift into the boot of my recently rebuilt left leg, I arrived at the closed gate limping and wheezing.
“I waited as long as I could,” the agent told me. “We can either send you to a hotel until tomorrow, or else you can fly all night and get to Austin in the morning.”
Hmmm… fly all night? Sounded slightly Peter Pan-ish: Second to the right, and straight on till morning. I’d have to wait till after midnight for a cross country flight to Atlanta, GA, then another one at dawn, back to Austin. I settled myself at the airport brew-pub along with several other travelers from my Medford flight, ordered a micro and opened my laptop to catch up on The Muppets shows.
Later on, I nibbled on a chocolate chip cookie made from Oregon’s finest just before the plane to Atlanta took off at around 1 a.m. The lights of deserted streets became tiny white smears and I slept all the way to the east coast. I curled up on a seat in the pre-dawn Atlanta airport until my flight boarded, then dozed until I heard the final coffee call. Throughout this odyssey, the people around me were amazingly calm, considering it was December 19 (and then 20).
Back at the homestead, where Renovation hangs on like a lingering party guest, I waited for our new backyard fence to be finished (to keep our cats safe at night and grow things without the intervention of deer). Our contractor, John, finished it the day before my flight.
I left for the airport on a surprisingly balmy December afternoon and, like The Accidental Tourist, agreed to relinquish any further control of my journey and let the best thing happen. My plane sat on the tarmac in Medford until after dark for an undisclosed mechanical issue. When we arrived in Salt Lake City everyone dashed off, hoping to catch their flights. I ran faster than I’ve moved since The Great Fall, huffing and puffing with my rolling carry-on for what seemed like a half-mile through dimly-lit tunnels. Even though I had “cheated” for this trip, placing a heel-lift into the boot of my recently rebuilt left leg, I arrived at the closed gate limping and wheezing.
“I waited as long as I could,” the agent told me. “We can either send you to a hotel until tomorrow, or else you can fly all night and get to Austin in the morning.”
Hmmm… fly all night? Sounded slightly Peter Pan-ish: Second to the right, and straight on till morning. I’d have to wait till after midnight for a cross country flight to Atlanta, GA, then another one at dawn, back to Austin. I settled myself at the airport brew-pub along with several other travelers from my Medford flight, ordered a micro and opened my laptop to catch up on The Muppets shows.
Later on, I nibbled on a chocolate chip cookie made from Oregon’s finest just before the plane to Atlanta took off at around 1 a.m. The lights of deserted streets became tiny white smears and I slept all the way to the east coast. I curled up on a seat in the pre-dawn Atlanta airport until my flight boarded, then dozed until I heard the final coffee call. Throughout this odyssey, the people around me were amazingly calm, considering it was December 19 (and then 20).
Wayne arrived to pick me up in a tiny Car2Go Smart Car. These things are wonderful—not only do they fit more luggage than you would think, they’re sprinkled all over the city like Easter eggs. You can reserve one online, where a map will pinpoint the closest available cars to your location, or just walk up to an empty one on the street. When you flash your membership card (or your Smart Phone) onto its windshield card reader, it identifies you and unlocks the car. There's GPS, of course. When you’re done, you just park it, sign out and walk away!
We arrived at Chez Gilbert-Mesko, our delightful hosts in East Austin, dropped off my bags and got a late Mexican breakfast at Juan In A Million.
After a nap, we went to the Palmer Events Center venue, all gussied up for a special awards ceremony featuring various Austin luminaries, movers and shakers of the Armadillo Christmas Bazaar, celebrating its 40th year! I finally began to understand the magnitude of it. The warmth emanating from these people is tangible, plus I could see that they just love Wayne. And of course, practically everyone wears cowboy boots.
We stood outside at the railing on the top floor of the PEC with our drinks, taking turns demonstrating the power pose we’d both seen recently on the news: you stand tall and firm, as if you are Supergirl or Superman, feeling your imaginary cape flapping in the breeze, for several minutes. It’s a great pick-me-up.
Later we met with my long-lost cousin Susan and her partner Chris for dinner. I arrived hot and sweaty, a victim of having overdressed for a more humid December than I could have imagined. In spite of my self-consciousness, we had a wonderful dinner and I’m glad to know more fun and interesting people I’m related to.
After a nap, we went to the Palmer Events Center venue, all gussied up for a special awards ceremony featuring various Austin luminaries, movers and shakers of the Armadillo Christmas Bazaar, celebrating its 40th year! I finally began to understand the magnitude of it. The warmth emanating from these people is tangible, plus I could see that they just love Wayne. And of course, practically everyone wears cowboy boots.
We stood outside at the railing on the top floor of the PEC with our drinks, taking turns demonstrating the power pose we’d both seen recently on the news: you stand tall and firm, as if you are Supergirl or Superman, feeling your imaginary cape flapping in the breeze, for several minutes. It’s a great pick-me-up.
Later we met with my long-lost cousin Susan and her partner Chris for dinner. I arrived hot and sweaty, a victim of having overdressed for a more humid December than I could have imagined. In spite of my self-consciousness, we had a wonderful dinner and I’m glad to know more fun and interesting people I’m related to.
On the Winter Solstice, I commandeered a Car2Go Smart Car by myself, driving it into downtown Austin at rush hour to meet Wayne at the end of his shift. I made it too, finally leaving it in the Sandy’s Frozen Custard parking lot. Then, dinner at Chuy’s, and the walking of the Trail of Lights: a bright, cheerful, although somewhat hokey Austin Christmas tradition that attracts thousands each year. We walked 6.4 miles that evening, according to Wayne’s iPod Touch.
These are actual promo shots of the Palmer Events Center - not mine - but pretty impressive, right?
My first walk-through of the Armadillo Christmas Bazaar was stunning! I’ve seen my share of high-end, juried craft shows, but this one outshines them all! Really beautiful crafts, sculpture, printing, ceramics, plus great music. Just check it out: http://www.armadillobazaar.com/. Staff members all seem happy to be there, some traveling from as far away as California, New York and (of course), Oregon.
The next day the temperature soared to 82°! Shorts and a t-shirt! Had lunch with Paula and did some shopping on South Congress, then hit the Armadillo later on, meeting Wayne and a friend for dinner after his shift. Another warm, lovely Austin person named Art. We got back to the ‘Dillo just in time for Asleep at the Wheel. I’ve seen several versions of this band over the years, although the fiddle player/singer, Katie Holmes, is one of the most upbeat performers I’ve ever seen. I felt happy just watching her. As the crowd edged closer to the performance area, taller people gently nudged me closer so I could see and take pictures.
The next day the temperature soared to 82°! Shorts and a t-shirt! Had lunch with Paula and did some shopping on South Congress, then hit the Armadillo later on, meeting Wayne and a friend for dinner after his shift. Another warm, lovely Austin person named Art. We got back to the ‘Dillo just in time for Asleep at the Wheel. I’ve seen several versions of this band over the years, although the fiddle player/singer, Katie Holmes, is one of the most upbeat performers I’ve ever seen. I felt happy just watching her. As the crowd edged closer to the performance area, taller people gently nudged me closer so I could see and take pictures.
Christmas Eve, the last day of the ACB, Paula and I shopped for Christmas morning brunch while Wayne worked. Then I accompanied Paula to her church, the Journey Imperfect Faith Community, a groovy, modern church, for my first candle-lighting service since probably the early 1970s. Yet another warm, friendly event where people seemed genuinely glad to meet me, although I failed to stop my involuntary waterworks when we began to sing Christmas hymns. I’m not sure why this happens to me, although Paula encourages me to keep trying, alone in the car at first. Then maybe I can join a choir without embarrassing myself.
Afterwards, we swung by the ACB to join Wayne for one more night of music and shopping. Wayne’s been collecting art from this venue for a while now, this year’s favorite from Ironworks: the Flying Monkey. We each bought one, unbeknownst to the other, so we now have a pair. Bill Kirchen was playing that night, joined by various guests, such as Jimmie Dale Gilmore.
Afterwards, we swung by the ACB to join Wayne for one more night of music and shopping. Wayne’s been collecting art from this venue for a while now, this year’s favorite from Ironworks: the Flying Monkey. We each bought one, unbeknownst to the other, so we now have a pair. Bill Kirchen was playing that night, joined by various guests, such as Jimmie Dale Gilmore.
Christmas brunch: tamales, breakfast tacos, fruit, chocolate… we exchanged gifts and then Paula and Mike headed out to east Texas while we ferreted out a Car2Go half a block away from the house and went to the Bullock Texas State History Museum see Star Wars: The Force Awakens in 3D at the IMAX theater.
We had Christmas dinner at Threadgill's. Just the two of us, for the first time since we’ve gotten married. After more than an hour wait in their pleasant courtyard, we settled into their southern home-style cooking at a quiet table. Then we visited with our friend (from high school!) Ellen, aquarist and art collector, before heading over to the Continental Club to hear Dale Watson.
We had Christmas dinner at Threadgill's. Just the two of us, for the first time since we’ve gotten married. After more than an hour wait in their pleasant courtyard, we settled into their southern home-style cooking at a quiet table. Then we visited with our friend (from high school!) Ellen, aquarist and art collector, before heading over to the Continental Club to hear Dale Watson.
The next day was a work day for Wayne, breaking down the show at the Palmer Events Center. Thoroughly exhausted, I stayed at the house, ate leftover tamales and watched Big Hero 6 with the cats. Wayne finished up and we headed out again, this time to see more music at a place called The ABGB (Austin Beer Garden Brewing ). Just as we were leaving the heavens finally opened, and we rushed over to find the Car2Go we’d left in a corner of the parking lot, still available.
The next day we visited Maria’s Taco Xpress, and another artist friend, Steve, whose last name is actually Austin, and his cat, Boogie.
The next day we visited Maria’s Taco Xpress, and another artist friend, Steve, whose last name is actually Austin, and his cat, Boogie.
We took a MegaBus down to San Antonio to visit yet another couple of talented artist friends, Mary (fellow chicken collector) and Ron. We took a brief detour on the way to their home in Pleasanton, to visit the San Jose Mission, where Roxanne and Terwilliger made a brief public appearance.
After our last visit in 2014, I had become fixated on buying some of Ron’s art. Having a piece of art hanging on our wall from someone whose imagination and creative process continues to astonish me, has become important. Wayne and I deliberated, and finally chose the piece called “Joker’s Artificial Heart.”
After our last visit in 2014, I had become fixated on buying some of Ron’s art. Having a piece of art hanging on our wall from someone whose imagination and creative process continues to astonish me, has become important. Wayne and I deliberated, and finally chose the piece called “Joker’s Artificial Heart.”
Joker's Artificial Heart assemblage by Ron Clarkson. After three trips to Austin, I conclude that it’s probably the grooviest place I’ve ever visited. Texas twang, warm, friendly people, moonlight towers, retro-neon signs, breakfast tacos, an impressive focus on chicken-oriented art… no wonder so many people want to live there.
Back to the Pacific Northwest for us, though. Skiing awaits, and so do our cats.
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