The Texas Twang

Hill Country Hideaway

2012-01-15T12:18:00.000-06:00

About an hour and a half west of Austin is one of our favorite weekend getaways – Fredericksburg, Texas. This year for Christmas, we rented the Adams Travis House. Built in the late 1800s and originally located on the San Antonio River Walk, the structure was taken apart stone by stone and relocated to Fredericksburg in 1985 when in danger of being demolished.

This lovely stone cottage was very charming indeed. With 16” stone walls throughout, the rustic home made me feel like I had taken a step back in time.

View into the living room

View toward back of living room

Yet, we had all the modern amenities. Arriving on Christmas Eve, the cottage was decorated inside and out with multi-colored Christmas lights, creating a warm, festive environment to celebrate the holiday.

To our surprise there was a fully stocked kitchen. Had we known, we would've brought groceries with us to cook a Christmas meal.

After unpacking, we made our first planned stop at the Fredericksburg Herb Farm. As you might imagine, The Fredericksburg Herb Farm grows its own herbs. But, they have so much more.

The compound includes a restaurant, day spa, cabins, gift shop, garden and farm.

The gift shop had a wonderful array of homemade herbal body lotions, bath gels and more. The scent as we entered inside the shop was simply divine! Christmas ornaments, garden art and essential oils were also featured.

I found a Santa by Nobility to add to my Christmas collection, which had a secret compartment.

We toured the garden and decided a return trip in the Spring would be a must to see everything blooming.

I found the perfect tree for the Texas drought, one that needs no watering, of the iron variety.

We opted for an early dinner at the Herb Farm's restaurant called the Farm Haus Bistro.

We knew we were in for some tasty treats when we sampled the homemade focaccia bread and herb butter. The delicious bread was extra crisp on the outside and chewy on the inside. Gene is still talking about that bread!

We chowed down on our entrees so fast, that there was no time for picture taking. Gene had the bacon-wrapped meatloaf with garlic mashed potatoes and a fresh spinach and mushroom medley, which was very tasty.

I selected the cheeseburger, topped with fresh greens, and French fries. As hamburger connoisseurs, Gene and I both agreed that the cheeseburger's high quality beef had an excellent flavor and was out-of-sight good!

After our meal, we drove into town to tour the art galleries. Our first stop was Whistle Pik Gallery, and although it was closed for the holidays, Gene managed to introduce himself to the one and only President Ronald Reagan. He really is larger than life!

The Fredericksburg Good Art Company featured work by a Texas artist, Judy Gelfert, whose hill country impressionist landscapes I liked very much.

"Creekside" - Judy Gelfert

At Galeria 19, a new art gallery on Main Street, Gene’s attention was captured by the work of William Martin from San Miguel de Allende, who painted “Old Friends” (at the top of this blog). Gene also really liked William Martin’s “Still Life”.

"Still Life" - William Martin

The piece I was most captivated by at Galeria 19 was “San Miguel Series #093” by Rhea Gary. I was immediately drawn to the entire series, but this work stood out as my favorite.

"San Miguel Series #093" - Rhea Gary

Art is so subjective, and we had a great time expressing our tastes and preferences, as well as drinking in the warm hospitality of the gallery owners and employees. With our creative appetite sated, we headed back to our home away from home.

As the fire blazed in the fireplace, Gene read his book and I quilted. Together we enjoyed the peaceful stillness and joy of Christmas in the Hill Country.

Luke 2:10-14

10 And the angel said unto them, Fear not; for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

11 For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.

12 And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.

13 And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, saying,

14 Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.

Peace on Earth, Y'all!

Gone 'Pausal

2011-12-10T23:09:00.000-06:00

"Shocked" by Suzanne Marie Leclair

Momma said there would be days like this...

...and so did my doctor.

I call it “going 'pausal”.

Last year while reviewing with me some of the symptoms of menopause, my doctor asked if I had experienced any sudden bouts of irritability. No, I really didn’t think so (insert husband smiling and rolling eyes here). But, recently, I’ve come to the conclusion that I indeed may suffer from this symptom, and so may all those within my sphere of influence.

It was an uneventful evening, like any other, sitting in front of the TV, zoning out after work, when a commercial came on that captured my attention. It wasn’t apparent what product was being advertised. Must be a new movie, I thought. The screen displayed images of strong women from eras long gone.

“It’s the cradle of life.” Is that supposed to be the mother of Moses, I wondered?

“It’s the center of Civilization.” Cleopatra. I was intrigued. The epic-sounding music crescendoed.

“Men have fought for it…” Two Japanese men leapt into the air, fending off one another with big sticks, a Japanese beauty waiting in the wings.

“…even died for it.” Two jousting medieval knights clash.

As the satisfied noblewoman smiles at her favored champion, we hear, “One might say it’s the most powerful thing on earth.”

The music then cues the audience that we have reached the climactic moment when the goal of this visual enticement will be unveiled.

The next scene shows a woman picking up a bottle of Summers Eve vaginal wash off the grocery shelf.

And, then we hear, “All hail the V.”

That was the moment I went 'pausal.

What?!! Are you kidding me?!! “The V?!!”

"Head of a Woman with a Hat" by Pablo Picasso

I snapped. I began yelling at the TV, spewing forth the full measure of my thoughts about the makers of this utterly unnecessary feminine hygiene product. I was so incensed; I grabbed my laptop and began to pound upon the keys churning out a scathing email to the makers of this ridiculous wash.

Women’s bodies are divinely made, with a perfect pH of their own and in no need of a scented vaginal wash! I realized this propaganda was targeted at young women, who might be self-conscious of their own body and natural scent because of such a product and commercial, and that infuriated me more.

Had Summer’s Eve ever even considered making a PENIS WASH?!! No, of course not!

A few minutes later, not feeling fully vindicated, I decided the topic was worthy of my Facebook page, and feverishly began to jab the tiny screen of my iPhone with one of my menopausal fingers, sharing my thoughts about this atrocity with my 300+ Facebook friends. I hit the SEND button.

As the screen returned from the little comment box to the page, I suddenly realized I was not on my Facebook page at all. I was on my church’s Young Single Adult Facebook Page. “CRAP!!” I yelled, as I frantically found and pressed the REMOVE button. Of course, a blunder such as this did go out by email to all subscribers of that page before I could correct my mistake. (Insert big sigh.)

"Blush" by Fei Liu

If only I had a robot like Will Robinson’s that would warn me of pending danger and stupid things I would do in life. Oh yes, if only I were lost in space. I guess “spacey” will just have to do for now.

"Every speaker has a mouth; An arrangement rather neat. Sometimes it's filled with wisdom. Sometimes it's filled with feet." ~Robert Orben

All Hell to Summer's Eve, Y'all!

Purple People Palate Pleaser

2011-11-12T15:12:00.001-06:00

In Thailand, purple is worn by a widow mourning her husband's death. In Tibet, amethyst is considered to be sacred to Buddha and rosaries are often fashioned from it. In Japan the color purple signifies wealth and position. Purple denotes virtue and faith in Egypt. In Tennessee and Virginia, the purple bean is a freshwater, bottom-feeding mussel found in fast-moving streams.

But, in Austin, Texas, The Purple Bean Café, at 1200 E. 11^th (the corner of 11^th & Lydia), is the place to please your palate.

Yesterday, I had a hankerin’ for an adventurous lunch sandwich. Consulting the bookmarks I’d set on my Yelp iPhone app for local eateries, I decided on The Purple Bean Café. Although primarily known for its coffee drinks, many of the reviewers mentioned the yummy breakfast and lunch sandwiches that I decided it was time for me to partake.

Stellar service and delicious sandwiches were the Specials of the Day at the Purple Bean Café! I was greeted at the window by Kali, who sported a great big smile and was patient as I asked my questions and snapped my blog photos.

Behind her, the bustling trailer cooks were feverish and friendly as Lavalle (a.k.a. Momma), with her purple-tinted hair and fun-spirited attitude, gladly stopped mid-sandwich for a pose.

I regretfully admit that Gene and I ate our sammiches so fast, I didn’t even have time to snap a picture of them. As a first time patron of the Purple Bean, I ordered the Muffaletta and the Texan. The menu described the Muffaletta as “a meaty, New Orleans style sammich with Genoa Salami, Turkey Pastrami, our own Smokey olive/sundried tomato spread, melted provolone cheeez, sliced tomato, onion, fresh basil, served on a toasted Ciabatta roll.” Mmm….it was delicious! The olive/sundried tomato spread was a wonderful alternative to mustard or mayo, tying the flavors all together with a slight hint of sweetness.

The Texan, though, was my favorite, and was billed on the menu as “Modeled after a Chicago Style hot dog, this big boy uses local pork-venison sausage topped with melted Provolone cheese, Bavarian Sauerkraut, Spicy Mustard, Sweet Relish, Sliced tomato, onions, and fresh basil. A very sloppy sammich that brings a symphony of flavors to your mouth.” Need I say more? Of course I do!

The sausage was extremely nummy and juicy. But, the sauerkraut is what made this sandwich so special. It was very mild and sweet, which I did not expect, and it did not detract from the other flavors or textures. The onions were also sweet, not hot, and the sweet relish was a perfect complement to the meat. The Texan is most definitely a Purple People Pleaser in my book!

Each sandwich comes with a choice of chips. I also ordered the fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies for dessert. For a little over $13.00 for two sandwiches, two bags of chips and two cookies, my pocketbook was properly pleased!

Top all that frolicking friendliness and fantastic food with fabulous flora and sidewalk chalk, and you have a recipe for success!

This is a child-friendly and dog-friendly atmosphere that is not to be missed.

However, if you really don’t have time to linger, fret not, my friends! Phone in your Purple Bean Café order first by calling 512-820-9707. You can also find out what others are saying about The Purple Bean Café on their Facebook page.

“I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it.” --Alice Walker

Eat Sweet at The Purple Bean Café, Y’all!

Return to Wonderment

2011-10-27T17:03:00.000-05:00

Cafe Terrace at Night - Vincent van Gogh

To celebrate my return home from a week-long business trip, my husband took me out to dinner at one of our favorite restaurants, the South Congress Café. Located at 1600 South Congress Avenue in Austin, this eclectic restaurant sits smack dab in the middle of the funky fun SoCo neighborhood.

We were seated at a window booth, and I was struck by the stickiness of the table. When I mentioned it to the waitress, she explained that the tables were in the process of being refinished, and ours had not yet been done. But, the arrival of our salads made me forget all about that.

I ordered the Caprese Salad, a simple combination of fresh heirloom tomatoes, buffalo mozzarella cheese, homemade pesto and pine nuts, drizzled in balsamic vinaigrette. Delicioso!

Gene’s salad, which I’ve eaten before and featured here on my blog, is still my favorite – the Very Bleu Salad. Being a salad snob, it’s rare to find the perfect leafy combination, but South Congress Café has a definite winner. Romaine, chunks of gorgonzola cheese, rosemary candied pecans (oh my!), hard-boiled quail eggs and their very own balsamic vinaigrette – need I say more?

As for our entrees, we both tried dishes we hadn’t had before. Gene selected the Cajun Seafood Scampi – jumbo shrimp, ahi tuna, sea scallop, and jalapeno sausage on a bed of angel hair pasta. Now, I am a big fan of Cajun food and seafood, but I found the spices in this dish to be a bit too heavy and hot for such a light pasta.

I, on the other hand, reveled in my Sea Bass Gnocchi. I think this is the best piece of fish I’ve ever eaten! (That’s saying a lot, since I’ve eaten many fabulous fish dishes!) The dish consisted of a pan seared sea bass filet, homemade herb gnocchi (an Italian dumpling), roasted fennel, oyster mushrooms and watercress. The fennel was such an interesting licorice-like flavor that perfectly complimented the fish. The shift manager, who stopped by our table, commented that the Sea Bass Gnocchi is his favorite dish.

Hats off to the chefs, once again, at South Congress Café!

"5 Chefs" - Laura Barbosa

"All our words are but crumbs that fall down from the feast of the mind." --Kahlil Gibran

"A jazz musician can improvise based on his knowledge of music. He understands how things go together. For a chef, once you have that basis, that's when cuisine is truly exciting." --Charlie Trotter

Ciao Down, Y'all!

The Unfitting Fat in Flight

2011-10-22T01:35:00.005-05:00

I returned to work in September as a contract business analyst for the same company, working with all same people, after a two-month hiatus when my original contract ended. During this second tour of duty, I have made several trips out-of-town, but probably the most notable was my first trip to St. Louis last month.

I was given very little notice to make travel arrangements, and both legs of my flight were completely packed. However, the segment from Chicago to St. Louis was a bit more packed than I had counted on.

Wagging my cumbersome computer bag and purse through the skinny aisle of the plane, I passed row after row until I came upon my destination near the very back of the plane. Air travel is so stressful, and I had walked at a fast clip from one end of the Chicago O’Hare Airport to another in order to catch my connection (which is always the case at O’Hare).

Let me just stop right here to say, “I really hate the Chicago O’Hare Airport!” Okay, got that out of my system. Now, where was I? Oh yes…

So, there I was, frazzled, looking at my boarding pass to be sure of the seat assignment. If I could just get there, sit down and relax. Almost there…32, 33, 34A… the window seat…right next to…(insert sigh)…the very obese man in 34B. The big guy was engrossed in both his iPad, which was sitting atop his enormously large belly, and his iPhone, which he was holding in his right hand as he feverishly tapped the screen of his iPad.

I got the attention of my new seat mate, and looked elsewhere for a seat as he rose and moved out of the way. I slid into my long awaited respite. As the gentleman reclaimed his seat, he also claimed half of mine. I silently cursed myself for not beginning my diet sooner and losing another 20 pounds. With all my mental and muscular might, I tried to will all the flesh on the right side of my body to draw in as close as possible to my bones. It didn’t seem to make much difference.

I was being terribly infringed upon, but this was a full flight. What was I supposed to do? I weighed the pros and cons of asserting my right to a full seat, having paid a full fare. But, goodwill won out over comfort, and I decided to endure the hour-long flight to St. Louis without contention.

Feeling somewhat intimate with the unwanted body encroaching on my seat, I opted to make the best of things by starting up a conversation. After all, if we were going to be physical, I should at least know this man’s name.

Mr. Big finally ended his phone call and reluctantly turned off his iPhone when the flight attendant came by a second time, again asking that all electronic devices be put away. I casually asked how he liked his iPad, and Mr. B launched into a discussion about this latest, greatest device, rotating it on its perch of massive flesh so I could see the screen better. As he continued to talk about himself, never asking me any questions, I realized how self-centered this man was, how oblivious he was to my discomfort and feelings.

Unless you’ve actually had a close encounter of this kind, it’s really difficult to convey the many thoughts and feelings I had racing through my brain. I wanted to appear interested, kind and considerate. I wanted to be tolerant and empathetic. But inside my head, the conversation was seething with disgust and feelings of injustice.

Why was I to be put in such an incredibly uncomfortable situation simply because the man next to me chose not to purchase two seats instead of one? “If the flight hadn’t been full,” my alter-ego answered, “it wouldn’t have mattered.” But, shouldn’t it matter?!

Why did the airline allow this man on the plane with only one ticket when he was clearly not able to fit into one seat? “Silly woman! Charging an obese man double the price to travel would clearly be discriminatory, of course!” The voice continued, “Can you just see the lawsuits, the negative publicity? Equal rights for weight-challenged people!” Yes, I could begin to see how pressing this issue would cost the airline a lot of money in the long run. It’s almost as if I could hear the airline executives saying, “Let’s just ignore the whole obese passenger situation and hope no one makes a fuss.”

About that time, Mr. Big began to snore. Oh joy.

Notice the nice soundproof earphones? Mr. Big obviously knew that in order for him to get any sleep he would have to shut out his own loud guttural snoring. Wish I’d had a pair. And, just in case you’re not feeling my pain yet, here’s another shot to further make my point.

The only real solution, in my opinion, is to have all passengers take The Seat Test. As with our carry-on luggage having to fit into the overhead compartment, so should all passengers have to fit into one seat if they only buy one ticket. You take up more than one seat, you buy more than one ticket. Period.

As for my most uncomfortable travel experience, I am still deciding whether to demand the airline reimburse me for half the cost of my seat. I figure I could probably get a jury to award me emotional damages as well. I do feel I was violated and did not get my money’s worth of a seat!

As I relive that very long hour of my life, I can hear another voice inside my head saying…

“Good grief, Grayson! Enough already! You should’ve spoken up when you had the chance! Get over yourself! Somebody hand that woman some cheese to go with that whine!”

Yeah, yeah, I hear ya.

As a fitting follow-up to a fat blog, stay tuned for another fabulous food review coming soon to the Texas Twang.

Happy Trails to You and All Your Voices, Y’all!

Hot Diggity Dog!

2011-08-16T18:05:00.011-05:00

Hot Diggity Dog by Nouar

Having just topped the 100-degree temperature mark for the 56th day in a row here in Austin, Gene and I pondered what we should eat for lunch. I mean, what do you eat in the middle of the day when it’s scorching hot outside? The answer hit us over the head like an ice cold V-8…a hot dog!!

Gene really enjoys watching the show, “Day Tripper”, hosted by Chet Garner, and is always looking for great ideas for our own weekend day trips. Not too long ago, Episode 210 “South Austin, TX” aired on PBS. As part of that episode, Chet featured food from Austin’s trailer park eateries south of Ladybird Lake. One of those eateries caught Gene’s attention – Man Bites Dog.

So, last Saturday, with hot dog hunger in our bellies, we high-tailed it over to Austin Trailer Park Eatery to find the Man Bites Dog trailer as featured on Day Tripper. To our dismay, we discovered that Man Bites Dog was no longer there. Disappointment abounded.

Yet, all was not lost as we found out that Man Bites Dog had moved to a brick-and-mortar building with air conditioning at 5222 Burnet Road. With no end in sight for the sweltering Texas summer heat, I’d say the owner of Man Bites Dog is one mighty smart guy! While running errands near Burnet Road today, we ferried our famished palates over to Man Bites Dog for a midday meal.

Jeremiah Allen, Man Bites Dog owner, & Gene

We lucked out as the owner, Jeremiah Allen, was behind the counter to take our order. Jeremiah assured us that Man Bites Dog will open a second location somewhere near the trailer park where he used to be located. He knows it’s a hike for his customers, who live down south. But, with this great new air-conditioned location, it’s worth the drive for a delicious dog! Jeremiah explained that the franks and sausage are all bought locally, and that the idea for opening Man Bites Dog came from backyard barbeques with his friends, as he tried to out-do himself with new hotdog combinations.

The Hair of the Dog

With choices like the Buffalo Hottie, Abe Froman, Danger Dog, Greek Dog, the Cuban, the Reuben and the Howler, I found myself in a dietary dilemma! However, Gene knew right away that he wanted the Hair of the Dog ($6.59), which is a deep-fried, bacon-wrapped, large, Vienna beef frank topped with chili, cheddar cheese, fried egg and TABASCO® sauce. I tried several bites of Gene’s dog, and it was definitely a Weiner Winner with a kick!! Yum!

The Beer Brat

I finally decided on the Beer Brat ($4.79), which consists of a Live Oak Beer Brat, topped with sauerkraut and spicy brown mustard. If you love bratwurst, you will love this dog!! Did I mention the buns?! Oh…my…goodness! The buns make these dogs outrageously delicious! Soft, huge, freshly baked, warm buns, which have a hint of sweetness, are one of the key ingredients to Man Bites Dog’s success!

Man Bites Dog by David Bell Halliwell

And, if one dog doesn’t fill you up, there’s also appetizers, such as Dojo Dogs – beef franks, green chiles and cream cheese, wrapped in an egg roll wrapper, Pulled Pork Mac N’ Cheese, Chicken Wings, Fried Pickles, Chili Cheese Fries, regular fries and more. Oh, and Kosher or vegetarian franks may be substituted on any hot dog! How’s that for service?!

Our conclusion? Man Bites Dog is an absolute MUST for hot dog and sausage lovers! (I’ve already picked out which dog I’m going to try on our next visit.) So, beat the heat with a hot dog from Man Bites Dog!

Dog of Man by MagrEat

"The noblest of all dogs is the hot-dog; it feeds the hand that bites it." -- Lawrence J. Peter

These Dogs Howl, Y’all!!

Cool Beans!

2011-07-29T21:12:00.000-05:00

Visitas de las Hermanas - Amado Peña

Today, Gene and I saw part of a fascinating episode of the show, Modern Marvels, entitled “Beans”, featured on the History Channel. The topic is always one of interest, since Gene and I like eating beans so much.

The most popular bean worldwide is the garbanzo bean, also known as the chickpea. Cooked, mashed garbanzo beans are the primary ingredient of hummus, a wonderful, creamy dip originating in the Middle East. Rich in vitamin C, iron and vitamin B6, hummus is an excellent source of fiber and protein, and is traditionally served with pita bread. You can find hummus in your local grocery store, and for a healthy snack, try it with baked pita chips, celery and carrots. Yum!

Below are links to a couple of delicious-sounding recipes using chickpeas that I’m going to try soon:

· Curried Brown Rice Chickpea Salad

· North African Chickpea and Kale Soup

· Roasted Butternut Squash and Chickpea Wheatberry Salad

The second most popular bean in the world is the Pinto Bean, and most of us have tasted this wonderful bean in Mexican cuisine as refried beans. Interestingly, refried beans aren’t fried at all! Check out this interesting Food Tech video on the making of refried beans:

One of my most favorite pinto bean recipes comes from my friend, Drew, in Gatesville, Texas:

Miss Drew’s Beans

Ingredients

3 lbs. pinto beans

1 lb. bacon, cut into 1-inch pieces (I use maple-flavored bacon)

2 onions, chopped

3 cans Rotel Diced Tomatoes & Green Chiles

1 or 2 bunches cilantro, chopped

Salt to taste

Directions

1. Wash and rinse the amount of beans you want to cook.

2. Using 1 quart of water for each cup of beans, cook up a big pot of pinto beans according to the package.

3. Do not add seasoning while cooking the beans.

4. If you pre-soaked the beans, cooking time will be 1 to 1 ½ hours. If you did not pre-soak the beans, cooking time will be 2 to 2 ½ hours. Stir occasionally, making sure beans don’t stick to the bottom of the pot, and add additional water if necessary.

5. Fry bacon and onion until cooked (bacon will not be crispy). Do not burn onions.

6. Add bacon and onion mixture (including bacon grease) to beans.

7. Add 3 cans Rotel Diced Tomatoes & Green Chiles.

8. Add chopped cilantro.

9. Salt to taste.

10. Cook 30 more minutes and serve hot. Enjoy!

Amado Peña

Amado Peña, renowned Southwest artist, created a painting, entitled Tres Hermanas, which depicts the Three Sisters – maize, beans and squash. These were the staples of the Ancient Pueblo People, as well as some of the later tribes, such as the Zuni, Hopi and Navaho.

Tres Hermanas - Amado Peña

The Native Americans used companion planting. First, they buried rotten fish, which acted as a fertilizer, in a mound with maize seeds. Once the stalks reached a certain height, they planted beans, which wrapped around the maize stalk. The beans provided nitrogen to the soil, and the stalk served as a pole up which the beans would grow. Squash plants encircled the base of the maize and beans to retain moisture in the ground, to provide ground cover, preventing sunlight from encouraging weed growth, and as a deterrent to pests due to the prickly hairs of the vine.

One cannot write about beans without mentioning the oh-so-dreaded side effect, flatulence. So, how can we prevent flatulence from beans? Try this tip while cooking your beans. Or, try Beano®, an enzyme-based, dietary supplement, used to reduce gas in the intestinal tract, thereby reducing flatulence. Beano® was developed by Alan Kligerman of AkPharma in 1990. He created this formula while researching lactates in an effort to provide a solution for people, who are lactose-intolerant. The man was a genius!

And, speaking of geniuses, Benjamin Franklin outlined the easiest of all solutions in the eloquent essay he wrote around 1781 entitled, “A Letter To A Royal Academy”:

“It is universally well known, That in digesting our common Food, there is created or produced in the Bowels of human Creatures, a great Quantity of Wind. That the permitting this Air to escape and mix with the Atmosphere, is usually offensive to the Company, from the fetid Smell that accompanies it. That all well-bred People therefore, to avoid giving such Offence, forcibly restrain the Efforts of Nature to discharge that Wind.”

Eat Beans & Hold Your Wind, Y’all!

Don't Let 'Em Get Your Goat!

2011-07-25T21:15:00.005-05:00

Last week, I paid a long overdue visit to my friend, Paula Tarver, who raises goats and chickens in her backyard. I’ve wanted to see the animals for some time now. Coincidentally, it was milking time for the nanny goat, and she was udderly ready!

Paula Tarver milking Eve

The goats were amazingly tame and friendly, enjoying a good scratch on the head and back (just like dogs). This up-close exposure to these very interesting animals caused me to ponder more upon goats.

The Tarver Milking Setup

Goats will eat just about anything in their path and I know a number of families in the country that raise goats to manage the brush levels on their ranches. When I was young, we sang songs during road trips, and one of our favorites was “Bill Grogan’s Goat”. To jar your memory about this infamous goat, click on the video below:

Ever heard the phrase, “get your goat”? It’s an idiom that originated in the early 1900s in American literature, which means to make annoyed or angry. According to The Phrase Finder, an alternate explanation of the phrase's origin stated that goats were placed with racehorses in order to keep them calm. When an evildoer wanted the racehorse to run badly, they would “get your goat”. However, there’s no evidence to support this latter theory.

Allergic to cow’s milk? Try goat's milk! Many individuals who are allergic to cow’s milk may be able to tolerate goat's milk and goat cheese. (However, people with lactose intolerance may still be unable to drink goat milk.) Although research studies have not been able to prove exactly why goat milk may be more easily digested by people allergic to cow’s milk, some studies indicate that cow’s milk contains certain alpha-casein proteins, lacking in goat's milk that can cause allergies.

Goat's milk has also been found to contain anti-inflammatory compounds that may benefit individuals suffering from asthma, rheumatoid arthritis, chronic ear infections and eczema. Goat's milk is also an excellent source of calcium, riboflavin (Vitamin B2), potassium and protein!

Photo by Melissa Schneider

One of my most favorite cheeses is goat cheese. I love to crumble goat cheese in my salads. The tangy, interesting flavor of goat cheese is not as overpowering and sharp as blue cheese can be, and has just as many uses.

Photo by Melissa Schneider

The first time I ever tried goat cheese was on a gourmet pizza! Knowing all the benefits, we should all eat more goat cheese. Try sprinkling it on your soup or bake it on top of a sliced tomato. Yum!

For those meat eaters, there’s always goat meat, also known as cabrito or chevron. The Onion Creek Ranch, near Buda, TX, specializes in raising meat goats, the Tennessee Meat Goat™ in fact. Although I haven’t personally indulged, I am always “game” for new meats and foods. Click here to read about a great-sounding Cabrito Guisado recipe!

“Don’t approach a goat from the front, a horse from the back, or a fool from any side.” –Yiddish Proverb

“He who lets the goat be laid on his shoulders is soon after forced to carry the cow” –Italian Proverb

“If you put a silk dress on a goat he is a goat still.” --Irish Proverb

No Goats, No Glory, Y’all!

Simmering Summer Cold Remedies

2011-07-16T20:18:00.006-05:00

On Friday just after leaving the Austin TX Chapter IIBA (International Institute of Business Analysis) monthly meeting, (which was very informative and interesting), I stopped off at Marshalls for a bargain-hunting shopping fix. I needed another set of workout togs and a new pair of tennis shoes.

Just as I spied a spectacular pair of Saucony athletic shoes, which I bought for $20 less than the last place I saw them, I began to sneeze...and sneeze...and sneeze. I was gettin' blessed by all kinds of people.

"Hachooooo!"
"Bless you!"

Well, it's time to cash in all those blessings, because I have definitely caught something crummy! My head feels like somebody stuffed it full of cotton. My chest is cinched tight. I can't lay down without the sensation of drowning in my own sinus pools. And, today, this crud has moved down to my throat and is threatening to invade my lungs.

So, I've pulled out all the stops. This morning began with a dose of nose spray, Listerine, Alka-Seltzer Cold & Flu Daytime, Loratadine (for allergies), Mucinex (the miracle mucus pill), a workout at Planet Fitness followed by a protein and "greens" shake, krill oil, and last, but not least - NeilMed Sinus Rinse. You may recognize the name NeilMed® as the maker of the infamous Neti Pot. (I, however, could never allow myself to use anything called a "neti pot". That just sounds wrong to me.)

With all the medication I have doused down my throat today, it's a wonder I'm not comatose. And, at the end of Day 2, I'm still sick. The best I felt today was at the funeral we attended (R.I.P. Tony & Sussie Herrera), and even then I was having hot flashes throughout the entire service, which was beautiful and uplifting.

The odd thing is that I'm happy as a clam! (Are clams really happy? Click here to find out.)

Sniffling, snuffling, snorting, sick and smiling. Weird, huh? Yeah, I know. I could win the Weird Woman Award and wear the ribbon with pride stuck to my forehead.

I welcome any of your granny's or your own homegrown remedies for a summer sinus cold. However, with 100+ temperatures here in Austin, chicken noodle soup is definitely out of the question.

Pass the Kleenex, Y'all!

Pamper Yourself!

2011-06-26T23:59:00.002-05:00

Okay gals, let’s talk about nails. Getting a manicure or pedicure professionally is a luxury in which I have rarely chosen to indulge. However, this past year, I made a choice to pamper myself regularly, having my nails done by a salon.

Through years of nail biting and cuticle picking, I managed to damage my nail beds, which caused my nails to grow out wavy. With all the hammering on my computer keyboard during the day for work and all the hand quilting at night, I couldn’t manage to keep my nails long. They were constantly breaking and chipping.

For the first time ever, I decided to try solar nails. No, solar nails are not powered by the sun. They are the next best thing to my own nails, though – better, in fact. And, I found the most wonderful salon to get them done!

Viv Nails & Salon, located at 3115 S. 1st Street, is the third place I tried for solar nails, and it’s the last place I’ll ever need to go. Chau (pronounced “Chow”), the owner, named the salon after her young daughter, Viv. On their business card is the slogan, “Experience the Excellence”. Viv’s certainly lives up to that motto!

Chau is a lovely, gracious woman, with a radiant smile, beautiful eyes and the longest natural eyelashes I’ve ever seen on a person. Chau is always dressed beautifully, wearing lovely dresses and fashionable high heels. She is a perfectionist when it comes to nails – a quality I truly appreciate! Unlike other salons, my solar nails from Viv's were the same length, wonderfully thin and they’ve never broken off – not even after 4 weeks of washing dishes, typing, quilting and scratching the dog. When Chau gets done with my nails, they look so natural! Even my mother couldn’t tell they weren’t mine.

On one very indulgent visit I decided to also get a pedicure.

Oh, how I would love to get a pedicure done on a regular basis! Chau’s sister-in-law, Thanh (pronounced “Haun”), with her sweet spirit and friendly smile, gave me a delightfully relaxing pedicure. She was gentle with my feet, provided an addictive foot and calf massage, and expertly shaped and painted my toenails. All of this luxury while sitting in a most fabulous massage chair.

The lovely ladies at Viv’s Nails & Salon do a wonderful job of serving and pleasing their customers. I am always offered a bottle of water. And, during my last visit, Chau noticed that I was excessively hot, although the salon was perfectly comfortable for her other patrons. She excused herself for a moment, and returned with a small fan, which she plugged in and pointed at my face. It was such a thoughtful gesture to a middle-aged woman having a hot flash!

I am so grateful to have found these lovely ladies and their smartly decorated salon where I take an hour every 2-3 weeks to leave the world behind and indulge in a little “me time”.

Rejuvenate at Viv’s, Y’all!

Wish Upon A Star

2011-06-07T23:45:00.000-05:00

When I was a little girl, I bought into all the fairy tales about that gallant, chivalrous knight on the glorious white steed, who would whisk me away from reality into a sparkling world of wonder.

I dreamt that the glass slipper would fit.

I desperately desired the prince’s kiss to awaken me from my daily slumber.

I just knew all my dreams would come true, because Jiminy Cricket assured me they would.

But, while awaiting the arrival of my one true love, I whistled while I worked, wished upon star after star, and kissed more toads than I care to remember. All I found were bad apples, cracked mirrors, warts and evil mothers-in-law.

My heartache and despair brought me to my knees where I did my best to figuratively scrub my floors clean.

With the help of the Mistress Headshrinker of Oz (a.k.a. Pam Bailey), I removed my rose-colored glasses, clicked my ruby red cowboy boots together three times and began to see a bright, beautiful world of reality surrounding me.

And, then three years ago it happened...

My knight, albeit with dented armor from the many dragons he’d fought and slayed, magically appeared in his white Jeep Cherokee, ready to defend my honor and protect my delicate ego. But, wait! I knew this fine knave! Wasn't this my dear, kind friend from long ago?! Indeed, it was Sir Eugene, son of Nel!

The more I stared, the brighter his armor gleamed. A year later, Sir Eugene, son of Nel, waltzed me down the aisle of Eternity and across the threshold of our Castle in the Clouds.

Happy 2nd Anniversary on June 6th, Honey!

Dreams really do come true, Y’all!

The Dreaded Day

2011-05-24T19:14:00.001-05:00

It’s almost like I knew this day was coming. Strangely, I was feeling depressed yesterday. No reason in particular, just down in the dumps. But, given my stage of life, that mysterious and not-so-lovely phase of menopause, I didn’t think much of the mood swing. Most of the time, I feel great. When I don’t, it’s not my fault, it’s menopause. (I wonder how long I can milk this excuse.)

I went to bed early last night and committed myself to rise early and go to the gym for some much-needed endorphins and pound shedding. I felt great after my workout! Upon my return home, as I was contemplating either an extremely early start at work or cleaning my house, my dilemma was interrupted by a text message. Oops! I’d forgotten that I was supposed to meet my girlfriend at Starbucks for a hot chocolate. She was moving our meeting place much closer to my house, so off to Dominican Joe’s I went.

I had a great cup of hot chocolate while listening to my dear friend bring me up to date on the latest chapter of her interesting personal saga. She even mentioned how she was jealous that I had such a great job – working out of my home as a business analyst, performing a job I truly enjoy with people I really like at a great company. “Yes,” I thought, “I feel so blessed.”

During my one-on-one meeting with my manager this morning (the 7th manager I’ve worked under, by the way, since my contracting stint began two years ago), I felt prompted to ask about my future with the company. I knew my contract was up in June, and although previous managers had tried to bring me on board as an employee, they’d met with a No-Remote-Employee Policy that could not seem to be negotiated. I honestly felt that if I simply did my best at my job, and developed strong relationships with the project stakeholders, I would prove my value to the company and an exception would be made. I know I’m good at what I do.

Well, that strategy didn’t pan out. My manager disclosed in answer to my question that in June the company would not be renewing my contract due to budgetary constraints. Glad I asked. The only other time this happened to me was when I got laid off by my present company’s main competitor. I was doing a great job then, too! Maybe I’m in the wrong industry.

I’m indulging in a half-day pity party, but beyond that, it’s back to my cheery self. After all, with a life as blessed as mine, I have no reason to mope.

I noticed a voice message on my cell phone after my meeting with my manager. It was a recruiter. She was just checking to see if I was still happy with my present position, or if I might be in the market for a new gig.

See, even with just a mustard seed of faith, all kinds of doors can open. And, my faith is so much greater than a mustard seed.

I’m human (and menopausal, don’t forget), so I’m going to blow up the balloons for my party as I sit on the pity pot. I won’t be here long, though, so stay tuned for “the good stuff”.

“Employment, sir, and hardships prevent melancholy”—Samuel Johnson

“The blessing of an active mind, when it is in a good condition, is, that it not only employ itself, but is almost sure to be the means of giving wholesome employment to others.” –Unknown

“…for verily I say unto you, If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place; and it shall remove; and nothing shall be impossible unto you.” –Matthew 17:20

Time to Move a Mountain, Y’all!

And Justice For All

2011-05-04T12:47:00.001-05:00

A picture of a dead man…why would I want to see a picture of a dead man?!

When I heard the news that Osama Bin Laden was dead, I felt relief not joy, for there is no joy in killing – no matter who it is.

Glenn Beck, on his website yesterday, discussed the release of the Bin Laden photo by President Obama. He makes some very good points. Would we have wanted to have a photo released of President John F. Kennedy after his assassination?
We have become a nation of voyeurs. I’m constantly amazed by the drivers on the freeway, who slow down near a car accident in hopes of viewing the carnage of a wreck. I’m dumbfounded by shows like Jerry Springer and Dr. Phil that promote the stupidity and infidelities of others in the name of the almighty TV ratings. And, don’t even get me started on reality TV.

My prayer to Heavenly Father the night I heard Bin Laden was dead was one of gratitude for calling this evil man Home. Here was a child of God, as we all are, who used his God-given agency and his talents and gifts for evildoings, choosing darkness over light. I prayed for the family members of his victims, all over the world, who undoubtedly still grieve because of the actions of that man.

There are consequences for all actions. The blood of Bin Laden’s victims still cries for justice. It is not enough that this man no longer walks the earth. He left, in his wake, the grief and pain of all those who lost their loved ones in the attacks on 9-11. He left children fatherless and motherless. He left behind broken hearts. He left behind destruction and fear. He left behind other weak-minded individuals, poisoned and persuaded by his evil beliefs.

I take comfort in knowing that justice will unavoidably be served. The Lord Jesus Christ will not call Osama Bin Laden one of His sheep. And, on Judgment Day, Bin Laden will have to stand before God to account for his sins, and his evil actions will stain his soul for all to see. Justice will be served, and he will have to pay the price for all he did while on the earth.

I don’t need to see a picture of Bin Laden dead. It is enough for me to know that his death is just the beginning of the sentence he will serve.

For those of us still here on the earth, let us comfort one another, be good citizens of the United States of America, beware of evildoers and stand up for liberty and justice for all!

“The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” –Edmond Burke.

"An evil man seeketh only rebellion: therefore a cruel messenger shall be sent against him." –Proverbs 17:11

“I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the republic for which it stands, one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.” –Pledge of Allegiance

Choose The Right, Y’all!

Texas Trailer Twangin'

2011-04-27T00:01:00.003-05:00

Banjos - Painting by Sue Duda

I’ve received lots of positive feedback from my readers, mostly emails from my out-of-town friends and family, drooling about the topic, Tantalizing Trailer Treats. Even my mother is ready to drive down to Austin just to spend a day sampling the trailer fare. My response? “C’mon down!!

Someday we’ll try out new trailer eateries, I promise. But, for now, we’re gung-ho on Ugly Banjos and Bits & Druthers! The other evening, after determining that neither one of us was in the mood to cook dinner, Gene and I returned to the East Side Drive-In for more gourmet-to-go.

Gene needed another fish & chips fix (sans the chips) from Bits & Druthers (he can't get enough of that wonderful, deep-fried haddock), and I wanted to try the “real” Jimmy Cracked Chicken at Ugly Banjos. As you may recall, our first fabulous food fling at these two eateries was during the SXSW Music Festival. The trailer eateries had pared down and, in some cases, modified their menus in expectation of large crowds.

My first observation on our return trip was the East Side Drive-In is much more festive in the evening. Everything is lit up with fancy neon signs, and it’s easier to see inside the trailers as the culinary artists, or hash slingers, whichever applies, are busy at work. Plus, it is much cooler at night.

Surprisingly to me, Matthew Schaefer, co-owner of Ugly Banjos, remembered us as he delivered my order of Jimmy Cracked Chicken to our table. How nice, and what great service! But, I digress. What’s important here is THE FOOD! Oh….my….goodness! If I thought the Jimmy Crack Chicken sandwich I had before was wonderful, this full-blown version of the Jimmy Crack Chicken meal was over-the-top scrumptious!

The cornmeal-crusted chicken breast, served with honey truffle butter, was sliced atop a bed of indescribably delicious hatch green chile macaroni-and-cheese and fresh, spicy collard greens. I ate half the mac and cheese before I made it back to the car.
Let me stress that I never order chicken when I go out to eat. I usually prefer to order items that I wouldn’t normally cook for myself. But, this…Jimmy Crack Chicken…oh my…it plays music on my tongue. The flavors and texture are simply wonderful.

Banjo Sailor - Painting by Chad Elliott

I really will try a different trailer eatery soon, y’all. I promise. But, first I just gotta try Ugly Banjos’ “Mom! The Meatloaf” Sammich and their Chicken Fried Steak. I’ll let you know what I think.

“One of the very nicest things about life is the way we must regularly stop whatever it is we are doing and devote our attention to eating.” -- Luciano Pavarotti

“One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well.” -- Virginia Woolf

Strummin’ Yum, Y’all!

Beating Around The Bush

2011-04-07T18:39:00.005-05:00

One morning in the not-so-distant past, I was awakened at 5:30 a.m. by the most invasive bird’s song. Some little bird, who had nested overnight in our front shrub, decided to announce the arrival of a new day, although it wasn’t even daytime yet.

I lay in bed, trying to ignore the trills and chirps of the boisterous birdie, but I began to sense a sinister plot. We have a love-hate relationship with the birds. We have a bird feeder out front, so we can view the lovely cardinals and doves. Gene puts food out in the backyard during the winter for the birds, so they won't starve. I thrill at the sound of a red-bellied woodpecker working on a tree trunk. But, the grackles poop all over our cars and deck. And, now it was The Austin City Bird Singing Festival at 5:30 a.m. in my front yard. Isn't there an ordinance against that?!

My need to sleep would not be silenced by the sound. After about 5 minutes, I jolted myself out of bed, pillow in hand, and marched out the front door. In the dark in my pajamas, I began to beat the shrub with my pillow. The bird stopped singing. I had no thought for the condition of the bird’s health, only that the sound would cease.

I returned to bed and snoozed until the sun had risen and it was truly time to get up. My husband thought it was funny that I was so grumpy and insistent to have my early morning hours of slumber.

Before dawn the next day, my little early morning intruder blasted more alarming birdsong out his little beak. This time, my husband heard it and got up to see what all the ruckus was about. The first thing Gene did was to turn off the yellow porch light.

The singing immediately stopped. Chuckling, Gene returned to bed and told me the bird must’ve thought our porch light was the sun. Turn out the light, the party’s over!

By the way, beating the bird in the bush is not the same thing as beating around the bush. One is much more direct than the other. The likely origin of the phrase, beat around the bush, is derived from early hunting techniques in which unarmed men would walk around the forest beating tree branches and making noise, so as to flush out the prey from the bush. This allowed the hunters to avoid directly approaching the game. The technique was most often used in boar and bird hunting. For boar hunting, this was done primarily as a safety measure due to the razor sharp tusks and the likelihood of a boar charging a hunter. In bird hunting this was to scare the birds from their cover so that hunters could shoot them easily.

“A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.” –Miguel Cervantes

"A bird in hand is a certainty, but a bird in the bush may sing.” –Bret Harte

“A singing bird in the bush before dawn may never sing again.” –Grayson Nelson

At My House, the Early Bird Gets the Boot, Y’all!

Artist Credits (in order of appearance):
Bird in the Bush - Barbara York
Bird Flu - Unknown
Girl Screaming with Birds - Unknown
Sleeping Bird Red - Kimberly Palencia
Bird in Bush - Margaret Fane
Bird in Deep Night - Kelly Riccetti
Cat with Dead Bird - Tex Norman

Blankets of Bluebonnets

2011-03-21T20:12:00.000-05:00

Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy! It’s that time of year again, all you lucky Texans! Bluebonnet time is here! Fill up your gas tank, throw the kids in the backseat, grab your camera and head to the Hill Country for blankets of bluebonnets.

On second thought, with gasoline up around $3.40 per gallon, maybe it would be better to drive the family down to Ladybird Johnson Wildflower Center in South Austin. That’s what Gene and I did this past Saturday as we attended the Artists and Artisans Festival at the Wildflower Center. The featured artist, Ken Moore, was on site to answer questions about his beautiful bluebonnet paintings. Although Mr. Moore never formally studied painting, his artwork is wonderful, and it captures those feelings of spectacular awe many of us have felt while admiring the fields full of blue Texas blooms. Ken Moore’s bluebonnet paintings will be on display at the Wildflower Center through May 30th. (Top: Ken Moore’s Edge of the Hill Country #662 oil painting. Below: Ken Moore’s “Spring At Last” #694 oil painting.)

Also exhibiting at Ladybird Johnson Wildflower Center is Shou Ping, paper sculpture artist. Ms. Ping takes paper that has been painted with watercolors and cuts them into pieces, creating amazingly beautiful 3-D sculptures, set behind glass, much like a painting.

The day was perfect to walk through the grounds at the Wildflower Center, where we took time for pictures by the bluebonnet field, an annual ritual in Texas. I mean, you just can’t have Spring without a bluebonnet picture!

Walking down the various paths, my nose picked up on a pungently sweet scent that I had to hunt down. It turned out to be a Texas mountain laurel bush, which I now have on my list of landscaping plants for our yard. The plaque stated the blue blooms of the Texas mountain laurel attract long-tongued butterflies. Well, that sold me! Let those short-tongued butterflies find some other place to go!

The open-air square at the Center had a number of tents set up with artisans’ wares. My favorite was the iron art, specifically the shaman yard art, based on ancient petroglyphs.

I think the shaman figure below may have been based on one of the Teletubbies. See what you think.

Anybody else doin' a double-take?!

The crowning moment during our outing was a visit to the indoor artisan gallery. Since 1987, Gene has been trying to find a men’s turquoise and gold ring. While on our various trips, we usually check whether local jewelers carry any turquoise and gold ring combinations. It’s quite rare. Even those we have found haven’t been exactly what Gene was searching for. That is until now. We happened upon Fred and Barbara Stockbauer, Goldsmiths (www.fredstockbauer.com), who had a beautiful selection of men’s turquoise and gold rings, along with all their other exquisite jewelry.

When Gene tried this one on, we knew it was the ring he’d been looking for. The stone came from the Morenci Mine, located in Southeastern Arizona, and is a collectable turquoise since the mine is now depleted.

In every way, it was a wonderfully blue day – blue skies, blue laurel, bluebonnets and turquoise!

“If you’ve never been thrilled to the very edges of your soul by a flower in spring bloom, maybe your soul has never been in bloom.” –Audra Foveo

"Where flowers bloom so does hope." --Ladybird Johnson

“None can have a healthy love for flowers unless he loves the wild ones."--Forbes Watson

Everything’s Better with Bluebonnets On It, Y’all!

Tantalizing Trailer Treats

2011-03-18T11:22:00.001-05:00

It was a glorious, sunny, Saturday afternoon, and we were in search of a fabulous hotdog. The traffic in Austin was beginning to build as Austinites and visitors to the Texas Music Capitol began embarking on the first weekend of the South by Southwest Music Festival, commonly referred to as “SXSW”. Gene was approaching his boiling point as we searched in vain for a fancy hotdog joint downtown. I suggested we get back to the East Side, the chilled-out area of Austin where we live. As soon as we passed under IH-35, I sensed that Gene’s stress began to dissipate.

We ditched the idea of hotdogs, and set out to find an East Austin funky food stop. The first place tried, the East Side Show Room, wasn’t open for lunch, so we kept driving down 6th Street. I nearly wet my pants as Gene hollered, “HOTDOGS!”, pointing to the left side of the street. There, peeking above a fence was a red, British double-decker bus with “cheese steaks”, “burgers” and “dogs” painted on the side.

We parked around the corner, and as we entered the East Side Drive-In, located at 6th Street and San Marcos, our eyes scanned the small semi-circle of trailers with trendy names like The Local Yolk, Ugly Banjos, Bits & Druthers, Pig Vicious and more.

We saw a small sign at the entrance directing us to fish & chips, one of Gene’s favorite dishes, at Bits & Druthers, so we quickly headed in the direction of the British flag.

Gene stepped up to the small window of the red, white and blue trailer and ordered his fish & chips. As we waited for the fish to cook, we chatted with Josh and Shannon (fancy fish fryers extraordinaire).

Friendly and full of entertaining information, these two chipper (pun intended) people explained how the owner started Bits & Druthers after learning to cook the UK staple of fish & chips while living in the land of the Queen Mother. We also learned that Bits & Druthers does not skimp on quality. The fish is fresh haddock from Quality Seafood, one of our favorite seafood stops, which I’ve previously blogged about, and the tartar sauce is homemade.

We didn’t even make it to the next trailer before I had to return to Bits & Druthers to let Josh and Shannon know that theirs was the best fish & chips we’d eaten in Austin. The fish was incredibly fresh, and the batter was…perfection! Crisp, delicious and not at all soggy or greasy. We can’t wait to go back for more!

Our next stop was Ugly Banjos, known for its homestyle cookin’. And, who could resist a name like that? It was a must-try for me!

The red trailer and colorful handwritten chalkboard menu, lined with bottle tops, boasted of several tempting treats. (Check out the Fried Oreos!)

Making a decision was difficult, but I eventually settled on the Jimmy Crack Chicken. With the anticipation of large SXSW crowds, Ugly Banjos decided to tone down their menu, which many trailer eateries were doing, but encouraged me to come back after the festival for the “cracked up” version of this soon-to-be-famous “sammich”. Even without the collard greens and hatch green chile macaroni and cheese (see the online menu), this sandwich was stand-alone genius! The buttermilk fried chicken breast contained a perfectly seasoned cornmeal crust, providing an interesting texture and awesome flavor. Served on a ciabatta bun with honey truffle butter for a tinge of sweetness, a big slice of tomato, cheese, lettuce and jalapeños, served with kettle-style potato chips, the Jimmy Crack Chicken Sammich was a lip-smackin’ delicious treat!

The co-owners, Matthew Schaefer, (right), and his sidekick, Michael Hegar (left), were enthusiastic about their food and location, as well as the décor for the trailer. Gene loved the fact that Ugly Banjos serves Dublin Dr. Pepper!

And, speaking of décor, I was immediately drawn to the cigar-smoking, mustached, yellow mascot standing outside on the counter. This commissioned piece of festive metal was made by local artist, Mike Poulson, located at Slackerville, 2209 South 1st Street, whose entertaining iron work Gene and I have seen.

Rest assured, Gene and I will be back to try every single item on the menu at Ugly Banjos!!

Yesterday, on St. Patrick’s Day, I returned to the East Side Drive-In to celebrate Tami’s birthday, a dear friend of mine. Naturally, I wanted to take her to Ugly Banjos or Bits & Druthers, but we arrived too early in the day and were too hungry to wait until noon. So, we tried our luck at The Local Yolk.

Like Ugly Banjos, the Local Yolk had trimmed down its menu, offering only a few sandwiches, but The Florence was a yummy early lunch for two gals that hadn’t eaten breakfast. The Florence consisted of a fried egg sandwich with pesto, mozzarella and tomato. Good flavor and fresh.

For some reason, just being in this cozy group of trailer eateries made me think of Roger Miller’s “King of the Road”. (Actually, Gene does have a trailer for sale.)

Tami and I ate and talked and watched all the entertaining young people. The best outfits by far, though, were two young guys enjoying SXSW in their green garb for St. Patty’s Day. The young man on the left was originally from Russia, now living in Austin, and was giving a plug for music on Thursday nights in the bar at Hotel Vegas on 6th & Comal. The fella on the right was in town for SXSW visiting from Austria. Dig those brown suede leather britches! Yodel-ay-hee-hooooo!

There are so many trailer park eateries in Austin to try that I may just have to change the name of my blog to The Texas Trailer Twang. It’s got a certain ring to it, dontcha think?

“I don't know what I did in this life to deserve all of this. I'm just a girl from a trailer park who had a dream.” –Hilary Swank

“Cooking is like love. It should be entered into with abandon or not at all.” –Harriet Van Horne

“Life itself is the proper binge.” –Julia Childs

(Note: The top picture is by Paige Bridges, a Northeast Texas artist. See her vast array of wonderful vintage trailer art.)

Support Your Local Trailer Park Eateries, Y’all!!

Sew Much Fun!

2011-02-24T16:42:00.010-06:00

(Update: As of 3/13/11, the name of the quilting club has been changed to Sisters-in-Stitches.)

Last month while participating in one of my favorite pastimes, Girl Chit-Chat, Patricia, a friend of mine from church, and I discovered that both of us were quilters. Patricia, being fairly new to quilting, suggested we get together from time to time. Another gal from church overheard us and said she’d be interested in joining us and had a daughter-in-law who also was an avid quilter. That is the moment we created the Austin Ward Quilting Club.

Last night was the first monthly meeting of the Austin Ward Quilting Club. Patricia and I had gotten the word out through flyers, email and Facebook. I enlisted the help of my dear friend, Tami Horvath, Decorator Extraordinaire, to setup the meeting room with me. And, as the meeting kicked off, five women were in attendance.

I was the speaker for our first meeting on Quilting Basics, and as the night progressed, more women showed up. By the time I was halfway through my lesson, I counted 14 women, which was the number of chairs I had set out. Some of the ones in attendance had not previously expressed interest, which means we may have more members at future meetings!

For decoration, Tami strung thick gauge wire across one wall of the room and draped three of my quilts over it – The Bear’s Paw Quilt, The Dresden Plate Quilt and my wall hanging. My only regret is that I didn’t bring a camera to take pictures. What was I thinking?! I do have other pictures of the quilts that I can share, though, to give you some idea of what the club members saw at our meeting.

Below is a picture of the Bear’s Paw Quilt I made for my father. This quilt was machine-pieced and hand-quilted. It was a bit of a bear for me to make, which is appropriate, since the recipient is a bit of a bear at times, too. This took a year for me to finish, simply because I kept setting it aside to work on other things.

Here’s a picture of the Dresden Plate Quilt I made for my mother, which was all hand-sewn, appliquéd and hand-quilted. I consider this my “therapy” quilt, which I made during the year I was unemployed, living on the Double M Ranch with my parents. This quilt took 2 months to make.

The last quilt displayed on the wall was my appliquéd wall hanging. I hand pieced, appliquéd and hand-quilted this antique-patterned quilt in two months. I made it while working for Visa. I lived in northern Virginia and traveled twice a month on a 5-hour flight to Visa’s headquarters in San Francisco, California. I stored the pieces in baggies and used my fingernail clippers to cut the thread, since I couldn’t take any scissors aboard – needles and clippers were acceptable, though.

On the long, rectangular table in front of me, Tami draped the LeMoyne Star Quilt, which was the second quilt I made. This is one I created for my son, Eric, who at that time was 8 years old and picked out one of the hardest patterns in my quilting book. He also selected the fabric and colors. I learned my lesson that I don’t allow my “quiltees” to pick out patterns for their quilts. Atop the quilt, Tami displayed books, fabric, other sewing notions and quilting tools, which I explained during my lesson.

Susan, Janie and Patricia have experience making quilts, but the remainder of our club members have never made a quilt before, so this will be a wonderful opportunity to share our skills and talents with those who want to learn. Even Tami, who was just there to help me decorate, has caught the quilting bug and has decided to make an art quilt. Awesome!

Public Apology: I’d like to express my sincere thanks to Christine Cain, Young Women’s President, who allowed us to stay in the room where we initially set up the quilts. I had no idea there was a protocol for reserving rooms at the church, but Christine graciously moved her meeting to another room. Christine, I won’t make that mistake again. Thank you so much!!

“Methinks it is a token of healthy and gentle characteristics, when women of high thoughts and accomplishments love to sew; especially as they are never more at home with their own hearts than while so occupied.” ~Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Marble Faun, 1859

Happy Quilting, Y’all!

Watching My Wordy Ways

2011-02-18T23:28:00.014-06:00

As a business analyst by trade, I swim each day in an ocean of minutiae. My world is made up of facts and words, and as such, I have a virtual red pen in my head. My eyes read over a sentence in a business requirement, a paperback novel, a magazine, a newspaper article, a blog, and as I ingest the content, I see the grammatical errors, misspelled words and misuse of words. While it is a blessing, providing me with a desire to produce professional internal and external documentation for work, it is also a curse.

As a younger woman, much more self-centered, I was inclined to dish out criticism without considering how it might sound to the receiving party. Over the years, I’ve worked hard on my personal and professional communication skills, my delivery of words and my ability to hear criticism. But, no matter how much I improve, I am still a work-in-progress.

Words have power – the power to communicate ideas, to create, to uplift, to cajole, to enlighten, to teach, to entertain, to provoke thought, to inspire action. And, words also have the power to demean, to offend, to insult, to ridicule, to stifle, to abuse, and to incite anger. Whether we desire a world of peace, joy and happiness, an accomplished goal at work or an eternal marriage, we must learn to use restraint of pen and tongue, think before we speak, ponder before sending an email or consult a trusted confidante before acting impulsively.

Most of us would prefer to avoid conflict with others on a daily basis. But, as human beings of unique creation, we will undoubtedly bump into others who do not share our vision or ideals on occasion. How we communicate with and react to others is a personal test for us all.

Am I offended by what you wrote, said or how you behaved? If so, I should take a look at myself, because I certainly have no power to change you. If your words or actions upset me, I must look at your motive. Is there one? Most times, a person’s behavior and words are not designed to harm me. In fact, they may have nothing to do with me. I may’ve just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The English version of The Prayer of St. Francis of Assisi offers an outstanding guide by which we may each assess our own shortcomings as we relate to others.

Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love.
Where there is injury, pardon.
Where there is doubt, faith.
Where there is despair, hope.
Where there is darkness, light.
Where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive.
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
Amen.

In my quest to understand how I may best use my words for good, I have identified a pattern, or opportunity, that is recurring in my life, an area in which I need to improve – dealing with micro-managers.

If my manager or other leaders are attempting to micro-manage me, it is important to recognize that the behavior of micro-management is not about me. Micro-management is about control, narcissism, fear, emotional insecurity and ego. Wikipedia.com states that symptoms of micro-management include:

• Unwillingness to delegate
• Need for overly detailed reporting
• Bullying
• Narcissism
• Perfectionism
• Behavioral dependence upon controlling others
• Hyper-criticism

Life is beyond our control, so the micro-manager, which may be a boss or other type of leader in our lives, feels the need to control all things that may reflect back on her or him. Ironically, micro-managers do not gain devotion and respect from those over whom the leader has stewardship. Rather, they create resentment, lower productivity, disrespect and distrust among their group.

How can I adjust to the feeling of new screws being torqued where perfectly tight screws already exist? I can say a prayer for that person (similar to The Prayer of St. Assisi), pick my battles, and manage my own expectations. I can practice the “art” of communication by choosing my words wisely, practicing love and tolerance of others.

And, what if you are someone who displays the tendencies listed above? Take the “I” out of micro-management, and please just stay out of my way.

"Go on, get out. Last words are for fools who haven't said enough."--Karl Marx

“Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my strength, and my redeemer.” --Psalms 19:14

“When words are scarce, they are hardly spent in vain.” –William Shakespeare

Word Up, Y’all!

Harebrained Holiday

2011-02-16T12:39:00.017-06:00

Last Saturday, as my husband and I entered the grocery store, I was overwhelmed by the attack of red and pink – red and pink balloons, red heart boxes full of chocolates, pink cupcakes, red heart-shaped cookies and cakes, red and pink roses, wrapped in red and pink tissue paper with red and pink ribbons. I just about puked! As we walked past, I told Gene that under no circumstances was he to buy me anything for Valentine’s Day – no flowers, no chocolates, no cakes or cookies, not even a card. I know Gene loves me. He shows me every day. I don’t need anything red or pink on Valentine’s Day for him to prove it.

This year, for some reason, I am appalled by the commercialism of Valentine’s Day. Perhaps it’s because our country is still in economic turmoil. Maybe it’s because most anything I spend my dollars on costs so much more. (Do you remember when we all thought $2.00/gallon for gasoline was highway robbery?)

The Retail Advertising and Marketing Association estimated that U.S. consumers spent approximately $15.7 billion on Valentine’s Day. Are you kidding me?!

The annual Valentine’s Day Consumer Intentions and Actions survey revealed what consumers intended to spend all that money on:

52.1% - Cards
47.5% - Candy
34.6% - Evening Out
34.3% - Flowers
17.3% - Jewelry
14.4% - Clothing
12.6% - Gift Cards
11.2% - Other Gifts

Valentine’s Day was originally called Saint Valentine’s Day, named after one of the early martyrs of the Catholic Church, Saint Valentine, and had nothing to do with romantic love. The holiday was established in 496 AD by Pope Gelasius.

In 1969, Pope Paul VI had the feasting holiday removed from the Roman calendar of saints, and said, "Though the memorial of Saint Valentine is ancient, it is left to particular calendars, since, apart from his name, nothing is known of Saint Valentine except that he was buried on the Via Flaminia on February 14."

We can blame the romantic association with Valentine’s Day on Geoffrey Chaucer, who in 1392 wrote a poem for King Richard II of England and Anne of Bohemia on the first anniversary of their engagement. It was entitled, Parlement of Foules, and began:

"For this was on seynt Volantynys day
Whan euery bryd comyth there to chese is make."

Translated: “For this was Saint Valentine’s Day, when every bird cometh there to choose his mate.”

I’d just like to stress once again that we don’t need a special holiday to celebrate the romantic love we have for our mate or partner. The most romantic thing we can do is to determine how our mate feels most loved - physical touch, gift giving, words of affirmation, quality time or acts of service (Read The Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman) – and do something loving for that special person each day.

What did I do lately for Gene? I cleaned the house Saturday, and delivered a banana to his office this morning because he was feeling sluggish. (I thought the potassium might do him good.) Gene feels loved through acts of service.

What romantic thing did Gene do for me recently? He heard the song, “At Last” by Etta James, being piped in at Bed Bath & Beyond while we were shopping there Saturday. He surprised me while I was looking at the sheets on sale and began dancing with me and singing to me. I feel loved through physical touch and words of affirmation. I can assure you my heart was a melted loving puddle on the floor.

And, what about those who don’t have a special somebody in their lives?! How must they feel on this exclusionary, harebrained holiday? One of my friends at church has renamed Valentine’s Day to “Single Awareness Day”.

I vow no more frivolous Valentine’s Day spending for me or my husband!!

Share the Love Every Day, Y’all!

Feasting in SoCo

2011-02-09T15:55:00.016-06:00

One of the most eclectic, hip neighborhoods in Austin is SoCo, which is short for “South Congress Avenue”. The area of the SoCo neighborhood stretches from Lady Bird Lake (once known as Towne Lake) near downtown Austin along South Congress Avenue down to Oltorf Street at St. Edward’s University.

The neighborhood even hosts a monthly event called First Thursday. The SoCo shops stay open later, merchants set up tents to showcase their wares and music abounds.

Gene and I discovered a wonderful restaurant in SoCo, called South Congress Café at 1600 South Congress Avenue.

Last night, not wanting to cook dinner, we set out for this hip, happenin’ haven for the Hungry. I was shocked that the place was packed on a Monday evening!

Rather than wait 15 - 20 minutes for a table, we decided to eat at the bar, where the service and food were just as good as the dining room, but the ticket was 20% off!

For an appetizer, Gene ordered the Duck Oyster Gumbo, which I had eaten on a previous visit. As before, this scrumptious, dark rue gumbo was full of succulent duck and oysters.

The Very Bleu Salad, with field greens, rosemary candied pecans and hard-boiled quail eggs, was drizzled in a gorgonzola cream dressing. Rather than an over-powering bleu cheese taste, the salad was refreshing and the dressing was surprisingly mild.

For his main course, Gene chose the Barramundi Almondine ($24), a delicious, pan roasted, white, flaky fish, drizzled in chipotle brown butter, sprinkled with candied, slivered almonds, topped with perfect fresh green beans, all on a bed of garlic mashed potatoes. The Barramundi, also known as Asian Seabass, is farmed raised in Vietnam, Indonesia and Massachusetts.

My main entrée won the prize for the evening, though. I chose the Beef Milanesa ($14), which was cracker-crusted, seared beef tenderloin medallions smothered in crawfish cream gravy, served with garlic mashed potatoes, miniature carrots and broccoli. Oh, how luscious, how perfect was this culinary combination!

The vegetables were indescribably delicious. I have no idea how the broccoli was prepared, but it must have been drizzled in some type of yummy, hot chile oil. The carrots were faintly sweet, but not candied.

The leftovers made for a full lunch the next day. Oh happy day! And, even the little details were attended to, such as writing the name of the restaurant and the date on the lid.

The first time we visited South Congress Café, our waiter was spectacular, and this visit confirmed that South Congress Café hires outstanding wait staff and trains them well on specific food details. Our bartender/waiter knew all about the Barramundi fish, which we’d never heard of.

Everything we’ve had here, salads, soups, meatloaf, fish, beef, vegetables, gravies has all been so delicious and delectable. The flavors blend perfectly and the selections are unusual and enticing. I encourage you to try my new favorite restaurant!

If you want to tempt yourself, see the photos of various dishes on the South Congress Café website.

“If life were predictable it would cease to be life and without flavor.” –Eleanor Roosevelt

“All our words are but crumbs that fall down from the feast of the mind.” –Kahlil Gibran

Celebrate Life & Enjoy the Flavor, Y’all!!

Double Wide, Doublicious!

2011-02-06T02:34:00.011-06:00

On my way back home from a wonderful free motion quilting lesson with Diane at Sew Much More on Anderson Lane, I called my husband and asked if he wanted me to bring him home a Torchy’s Taco for lunch. Did I even have to ask?!

I pulled up all the Torchy’s Tacos locations using my iPhone and found one surprisingly close, just the other side of Mopac (Loop 1) on Spicewood Springs, near Mesa Drive. I began salivating as the little blue dot (that’s me) on my GPS bopped closer and closer to the little red destination dot (Torchy’s). Finally, I saw the familiar flying red devil sign, and with a sigh of relief, pulled into the parking lot. I did a “double take” as I stared at the sign before me:

A drive-thru?!! No way!! That’s brilliant!! That’s “double brilliant”! (As you can see, when it comes to Torchy’s Tacos, I am easily impressed.) Actually, the manager explained that the Spicewood Springs location was the only one with a drive-thru. But, driving through to pick up a Torchy’s taco, in my opinion, would be to deny oneself the ambiance, the ultimate, “doubly appetizing”, environmental experience of walking inside this true-to-weird Austin eatery.

The first thing I noticed was the huge live oak out front that gave this Torchy’s an inviting feel.

Next, the wonderful outdoor patio was equipped with outdoor heaters and plastic flaps for winter outdoor seating, although today’s temperature was 60 “double-wonderful” degrees. Notice the ironwork beams near the ceiling with interesting cutouts on a red background. Very cool!

“Doubly artistic” was the iron archway entrance to the patio, proclaiming Torchy’s famous line, “Damn Good Tacos”. It ought to say, "Double Damn Good Tacos"!

With giddy anticipation, I entered the indoor restaurant area, and what instantly caught my eye was the rose wall surrounding the counter, which felt very Mexican, very festive. In fact, it made me want to take a rose in my teeth, stomp my heel, clap my hands and shout, “Olé!”

And, just as unique as everything I’d seen to this point, I looked up and saw the wonderful light fixtures and flaming beams. Signature Torchy’s! So creative, so fun!

As always, the staff was friendly and helpful, talkative and smiling. The Torchy’s Team really seems to enjoy what they do!

And I would, too, if I could sink my teeth into a scrumptious Torchy’s Taco every day!

You may be asking yourself, “Why all the “double talk?” Well, February’s Taco of the Month is the Double Wide. Oh…my…goodness! Gene and I both agree this is our favorite Taco of the Month so far! It’s downright “doublicious”!! Imagine this…chicken-fried steak with chopped bacon, smothered in green chile queso, cotija cheese and pico de gallo, wrapped in a flour tortilla. Just reliving the first bite of those perfectly blended flavors is making me drool.

Oh, and don’t forget your Dublin Dr. Pepper with that Double Wide!

"Thou art to me a delicious torment." --Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Double-Time” It Over to Torchy’s, Y’all!

Patience with Patients

2011-02-02T20:47:00.016-06:00

I have a new appreciation for nurses and an increased personal awareness that I would not make a good one. Oh sure, as long as I’m dealing with a good patient, I’d be Florence Nightingale. But, put me in a room with a less-desirable patient, and I would turn into Nurse Ratched from the movie, “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest”.

Worse yet, I’d probably begin channeling Lizzie Borden and chop the patient’s head off. It’s not a coincidence they are called “patients” (patience).

I wouldn’t have this newfound knowledge about myself had it not been for my dad. Dad has been in the hospital in Waco, Texas since last Wednesday, recovering from elective back surgery. During the surgery, in which the surgeon was placing pins between the last several vertebrae in Dad’s ever-compressing spine, the spinal fluid sac began leaking fluid. Although this was expected, when the doctor tried to stitch up the leak, he said the scar tissue on the sac began to disintegrate. The doctor patched the area and gave orders that Dad would need to be on his back for several days with two drains in his back until the sac healed.

I wanted to give my mother a break, and offered to drive up from Austin to spend last Friday night in the hospital with Dad. When I explained to Dad that I was going to stay the night with him, he kiddingly said, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, I’ll make you crazy!” To which I replied, “Too late!” Little did I know what an ominous, prophetic statement his comment would turn out to be.

Room 412, Dad’s private hospital room, had a large, navy blue leather recliner. However, after sitting down in it, I felt like Goldilocks in Papa Bear’s chair. It swallowed me up. Luckily, though, it almost fully reclined flat, allowing the concerned family member to stay the night and rest.

Dad had a fairly good day until the afternoon, when the raspy breathing was diagnosed as pneumonia. In addition to the labored breathing, every time he took a sip of water, Dad squeezed his eyes shut tightly in pain. He was still so weak I had to hold the cup and straw for him. The doctor-on-call came by to visit Dad, and then Mom left to return to the Ranch for a restful night in her own bed.

By 5:00 p.m., Dad finally had an appetite. When I asked what time Dad’s dinner tray would be delivered, the nurse informed me that the hospital doctor had ordered no food or drink, including water, until he could be seen the next morning by a respiratory specialist to determine if there was anything wrong with his throat. As you might imagine, the news did not sit well with Dad.

Dad asked several times when dinner was coming. Then, he asked for a tall, cold Coke. He asked for water. Denying my father a sip of water was excruciating for me, as well as for him. I told Dad that if he couldn’t eat or drink, then I would suffer right along with him. But, that was not a smart decision on my part.

Next, Dad began to show greater signs of confusion. He was weary and weak, but unable to sleep for more than 10 minutes at a time. Because his daily anti-depressant and sleep aid only came in pill form, the nurse would not administer them, which meant I was in for a rollercoaster of a night ministering to the hallucinations and restlessness of my father.

He wanted the TV on. The sound wasn’t loud enough. The sound was too loud. He wanted the TV off. Rinse and repeat.

During a break from the TV, Dad began talking of fishing with George. “George who, Dad?”, I asked. Dad thought about it a minute. “I only know one George.” But, he never answered my question, at least not until he fell asleep and began talking about “George Dubya”. My dad was hallucinating that he was talking with George W. Bush about fishing.

Throughout the night as I became aware that my father had awakened again, I would look over at him and inevitably, he would be holding onto the sides of his hospital bed, trying unsuccessfully to pull himself up. “What are you doing, Dad?” I’d ask. He always replied the same, “Grayson, come help me get up. I want to get up out of this chair and go to bed.” I would remind him that he was in the hospital, that he’d had back surgery and that the doctor said he had to stay on his back until the spinal fluid sac had healed. By the tenth time we’d had this conversation, I was ready to strap Dad to the bed and stuff a washcloth in his mouth.

Somewhere between the slow ticks of the black and white wall clock and the off-and-on raspy snores of my father, I fell asleep. An hour later, I awoke to my dad urgently calling my name. “Grayson! Help me get up out of this bed!” I could hardly process what my eyes were seeing. There was blood splattered all over his hospital gown, the blanket and the bed. I pressed the nurse’s call button and quickly assessed the situation. He’d pulled out his I.V.! “Grayson! Help me get out of this bed and take me to the bathroom! I don’t care what they say!”

At that moment, I lost my patience with the patient. I walked out of the room, and as I passed the nurse, I mentioned what he’d done. I walked to the waiting room…and waited.

I was so exhausted, and hadn’t eaten since breakfast. More than anything, I yearned to stretch out flat in a nice firm bed and sleep. Obligation finally willed me to my feet, and I returned to Room 412.

Dad was sound asleep.

I quietly eased myself into the monstrous recliner, added yet another prayer to the pile I’d already prayed and shut my eyes.

“Grayson!”….Maybe if I don’t answer, it will go away. “Grayson!” There it was again. “Glenda!”….That’s my mother’s name. Slowly, I opened my eyes.

“Glenda, are you there?!”

I inched my way up out of the recliner. “Dad, Mom is at the Ranch. She’s at home. You’re in the hospital. What do you need?”

“Grayson, I don’t care what they say. You get me up out of this bed right now!”, he demanded.

“Dad, you cannot get up. You’ve had back surgery.”

“Grayson, you get me up right now and set me on the pot. I mean it!”, he threatened.

“I will not!!” I replied, and showed him the controller with the red nurse’s button. “If you need to go to the bathroom, you press this red button and call the nurse. She’ll bring you a bed pan.”

Dad said with disgust, “I don’t want that ol’ thing.”, meaning the controller, as I pressed the button.

“Grayson, you are so mean.”

A soft tone dinged on the controller. “May I help you?”

“I need to take a crap RIGHT NOW!” my dad yelled in his pitifully soft, raspy voice.

At that moment, I mentally hit the proverbial wall. I gathered up my jacket and purse, and told Dad I was leaving for a little bit. I told him to buzz for the nurse if he needed anything while I was gone.

It was 5:00 a.m., and I’d just mentally transformed into the crazy, sleep-deprived, maniacal woman my father had warned me about earlier that day.

I walked out of the hospital into the darkness of early morning and breathed in a lungful of the brisk, fresh-smelling air. Although I wanted to, I couldn’t cry. I had no reason to cry. I wasn’t the one laying in a hospital bed. I wasn’t the one with a painful, bad back. I was just tired and hungry.

Sliding behind the steering wheel in the driver’s seat of my familiar and beloved Dodge Durango and turning the key in the ignition, I fantasized about driving the two hours home right then and there. But, I realized I’d left the tote with my quilt I’d been working on in the hospital room.

It was 5:08 a.m. I took out my cell phone and called my husband. That blessed, wonderful man picked up his phone and listened to me rant and rave about the terrible night I’d spent with Dad. He assured me he could drive up immediately, but I insisted he stay home. My sister was coming early for a visit and my mother would be returning. At the first sign of a family member, I would be handing off the Dad baton and driving home to Austin.

After our phone call, I drove to Starbucks, ordered a Venti Hot Chocolate, No Whipped Cream, Extra Hot and a blueberry muffin. It tasted heavenly. I knew I was going to make it after all, and drove back to the hospital.

Reluctantly, I returned to Room 412. I pushed the door open and stepped inside. Dad was sound asleep. Once again, I sat in the blue recliner, kicked back into a flat position and shut my eyes. It was 6:30 a.m.

Within 30 minutes, the nurse entered the room. Apparently, Dad had fallen asleep on the bed pan and had never pressed the Nurse Call Button, as he’d been instructed. She rolled him over, removed the unused bed pan, and asked where I’d been. She said they’d been talking about me. Dad thought he had run me off. The nurse said she’d found Dad sitting up at the end of his bed twice while I was gone, but each time, the bed alarm sounded and she put him back to bed. (I’m still not sure she was telling me the truth, knowing how weak Dad was.)

When the sun started to shine in through the blinds, my hopeful disposition returned as I waited to be relieved of my duties. At 8:30 a.m., Mom tip-toed in the door, and my chest burned warm with joy as I hugged her and hugged her. All would be well.

At 9:15 a.m., I left Room 412 for the last time, vowing never to return, if at all possible, at least within the next several days.

Since that time, Dad has been allowed to eat, take all his medicines, has had a number of satisfying bowel movements and has been sleeping through the night. And, I have learned a valuable lesson about myself.

If the time ever comes that Dad is alone and needs to be cared for, I won’t be the one to do it. Don't get me wrong. I love my dad. But, I know my limitations.

"Patience is the ability to idle your motor when you feel like stripping your gears."--Barbara Johnson

My Gears Are Stripped, Y'all!!

Torching Hot on Burnet Road

2010-11-07T19:17:00.010-06:00

"The difference between 'involvement' and 'commitment' is like an eggs-and-ham breakfast: the chicken was 'involved' - the pig was 'committed.'"

Like the pig, I am committed to seeking out the best of the best of Torchy’s Tacos! I’m not just involved in this quest, I am truly committed. Although some of you may think I ought to be committed, that is a topic for another time.

In a previous installment, I introduced you to Torchy’s Tacos, my favorite of all taco eateries. Today, I want to share my review of the newest Torchy’s site in Austin located at 5119 Burnet Road. Gene and I visited this much-needed addition in north Austin on October 29th for a late lunch.

Eric, the quite cordial Taco Associate who took our order, made the suggestion that we try the October Taco of the Month, The Scarecrow.

I took Eric’s advice and ordered The Scarecrow – a tantalizing taco treat consisting of pumpkin breaded fried chicken with escabeche carrots (spicy-hot, pickled, thin strips of carrot), cotija cheese, cilantro, roasted poblano pepper on a flour tortilla with creamy chipolte sauce. Scarecrow, you tickled and torched my tongue with your autumnal array of tastiness. Being a seasonal taco selection, I say to The Scarecrow, as did Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, “I think I will miss you most of all!”

Gene ordered the Beef Fajita Taco, which although good, is not one of my favorites. The Beef Fajita Taco is made with marinated and grilled skirt steak, grilled onions and peppers, shredded cheese and pico de gallo. For some reason, this taco seems to be somewhat less flavorful to me than most of Torchy’s Tacos. But, spice it up with one of the five great Torchy’s Tacos sauces and even this taco will pass the (hot) mustard.

All menu items are inspired by owner Executive Chef Michael Rypka with over 18 years in the restaurant business. I am so impressed with the unusual flavors Michael Rypka has chosen to combine and the wonderful sauces he’s created. And, all food products and high quality meats are bought from reputable Texas-based businesses. Hats off to the chef!

The Burnet Road location has a simple, but unique interior with a pressed chrome border around the ceiling and a glass partition sporting Torchy’s logo. Each formed chair contains the Torchy’s Tacos icon, a flying red devil.

While a bit more sterile-feeling than my favorite South 1st Street locale, the Burnet Road site has a very airy, comfortable outdoor patio.

In my last blog about Torchy’s, I mentioned the soda fountain drinks, featuring Dublin Dr. Pepper. At the Burnet Road location, there are even more bountiful beverage choices with several flavors of Maine Root handcrafted soda, a carbonated, organic cane-sweetened refreshment.

Take the Torchy’s Tacos Challenge, my piglet friends, and let me know which Torchy’s Tacos spot is your favorite, and which taco you like best. Check out Torchy’s Tacos website this month, and get a coupon for free chips and queso!!

Don’t Be a Chicken, Commit Yourselves, Y’all!!

On a Torchy's Tacos Tirade

2010-10-31T21:26:00.012-05:00

My husband, Gene, was commenting to our friend and bishop, Mike McCullough, that we were looking for a good place to eat breakfast tacos. Bishop McCullough insisted we try Torchy’s Tacos on South 1st Street, assuring us they had the best tacos in town, and as an added bonus, they served Dublin Dr. Pepper on tap. Being an avid fan of Dublin Dr. Pepper, which uses Imperial Pure Cane Sugar (the original Dr. Pepper formula), my husband was sold, and our first trip to Torchy’s was the very next Saturday morning. That was last August, and I enjoyed that first trip to Torchy’s so much that I have returned as often as I can.

So far, I’ve been to 3 of the 7 Torchy’s Taco locations, and the South 1st Street location is still my favorite. Like a first love, I have such wonderful memories associated with this small South Austin taco shop. What first caught my attention was the little red devil on the sign surrounded by the slogan, “Torchy’s Damn Good Tacos”. As we entered the tiny diner-like restaurant and waited our turn in line, I studied the funky atmosphere and employees. (I think it might be a pre-requisite to have a large number of body tattoos in order to work at Torchy’s.)

I was actually grateful for the wait, so I would have time to read the handwritten menu on the wall. Decisions, decisions! Being a Saturday morning, I decided on the Migas, a breakfast taco recommended by the Torchy’s associate who took our order. We went in search of a table.

Even with all the people that were there for breakfast, we had no trouble locating a table outside in the covered courtyard. I marveled at the huge, beautiful hanging baskets draping the metal awning. I still want to know where they purchased those baskets!

Shortly, a young woman delivered the open-faced migas tacos to our table. I had picked up a sampling of every type of taco sauce, salsa and pico de gallo, ready for a taste test. The real question was whether or not I would use a fork or simply fold this soft taco together for my first bite. I started with a smidgen of Torchy’s Roja sauce, the mildest of the 5 sauces, made from fire-roasted roma tomatoes, chilies, grilled onions, garlic, cilantro and lime. As I took my first bite, I was overcome with an exquisite sense of flavors. Yum!

Something crunched in my biteful of eggs that was wonderful, yet unidentifiable. What could it be, I wondered? As I picked up a menu I reread the ingredients for the Migas – scrambled eggs, green chilies, avocado, pico de gallo, shredded cheese and crisp corn tortilla strips, served on your choice of tortilla. It was the corn tortilla strips that packed the Migas with a flavorful punch and crunch!

Next, I tried the Torchy’s Tomatillo sauce on my taco – a delicious blend of 3 fire-roasted chilies, tomatillos, grilled onions, cilantro and a shot of lime. The hotness indicator showed two flames. How does one describe perfection?!! So far, this one is my favorite Torchy’s taco sauce.

I prepared my palate for the Poblano Ranch sauce – a creamy Ranch dressing, blended with serrano peppers and grilled poblano peppers. This 3-flamed sauce is my husband’s favorite.

Gene warned me about the Chipotlé sauce, a light orange creamy sauce made from Ranch dressing, smoked chipotle peppers in adobo and roasted tomatoes. As I took my bite of migas with this scrumptious sauce, my tastebuds awoke!

Lastly and most carefully, I tasted the Diablo sauce, the hottest of all Torchy’s sauces, ranked with four flames. In Spanish, “diablo” means “devil”, and once the bright orange taco sauce, crafted from fire-roasted habanero chilies, blended with vinegar, spices and tomatoes, touched my tongue, I exclaimed, “This is damn good taco sauce!” Actually, I don’t talk like that, but it was really good, although much too hot for my Gringo tongue. The heat continued to smolder in my mouth several long minutes after I had finished my fabulous breakfast. This is the only sauce of the five made by Torchy’s that is bottled and may be purchased. Of course, we had to buy a bottle!

As a result of this extraordinary experience, I set a new tantalizing goal for my tastebuds...to visit each and every Torchy’s Taco location in Austin and to sample every single type of taco they offer! I plan to rate each taco here on my blog, so stay tuned!

Torch those Tacos, Y’all!