Perfect Moments

This weekend was the annual music festival at El Cosmico, the Trans-Pecos Festival of Music and Love. I attended this event last year, and seeing a lot of the same performers and attendees again made it feel like homecoming. Of all of the festivals I've experienced in Marfa, the crowds that come to this one feel the most like my people. Campers endured relentless rain Thursday night through Saturday morning, and many of them spent the day with us at Padre's on Friday. Like their memories of soggy tents in the muddy field, my recollection of that day will surely grow more pleasant with time. Kids played games all over the stage while the parents relaxed with bloody marys. Our patio fireplace took the place of campfires, and everyone was content to hunker down and wait for our brave cook to get around to feeding them all. The rain meant a move for the music from the camp grounds to a pavillion in the middle of town, which translated to a free show for the good people of Marfa on Friday night. I got away from the bar a couple of times once things slowed down and caught a few songs from Ben Kweller, who had spent that afternoon camped out on a bar stool at Padre's, and the Heartless Bastards, who I appreciate more this time around. I heard that Robert Plant was there, hanging around in the crowd, but I was not blessed with a sighting this year. A Dixie Chick did come to the bar however, on Friday to have some drinks, and on Saturday to pick up the credit card she left. I really wished I had recognized her and not charged her card in advance. Oh well, I'm sure once you're a star it's nice to be treated like a regular person every once in a while again. Right?

Saturday was another busy one, but was a little less hectic due to the nice weather. A visiting bar patron offered to play music on the stage for our lunch crowd, and was actually quite good. The evening slowed down when music started up again at El Cosmico, and a few lucky people joined us for an amazing show by Austin's super-fun-foot-fetish-funk band, Foot Patrol. The dance party was off the hook with a couple of enthusiastic dancers hopping up on the bar and a table during the band's cover of Salt & Pepa's Push It. One of my favorite people from Austin, Kevin, showed up unexpectedly with one of my favorite people in Marfa, Rocky. It's a good day when I can work a double shift and still have the energy and desire to do some dancing. With the harvest moon high in the sky, I felt one of those perfect moments where everything in life feels right. 

Today is Sunday, and the last day of my third month here. I finished my shift and got outside as quickly as I could. As the sun began to set, the sky got brighter for a brief period as sunlight shot sideways through the clouds making everything glow with golden intensity. I grabbed my camera and jumped in the car, heading out to the west side of town where I could see the whole sky. The sunset was breathtaking, with a huge thunderhead cloud feathering out like a pair of giant wings to the west. The north sky was dark below the clouds on the horizon, and bright bolts of lightning were visible from miles away. As I drove back towards home, I was stunned to see the moon rising on the horizon in front of me, bigger than I had ever seen it in my life. I popped back into Padre's where Beau was ready for a cigarette break. I sent him out to see the moon while it was low and big, then went out walking to try to catch another glimpse before the approaching clouds smothered it. I did not see the big moon again, but felt its presence as the town took on a mysterious aura. People passing by on bikes seemed to be charged by the electrical storm that was approaching, and the wailing whistle of a quickly passing train added to the excitement. This little town is full of surprises; I really need to get out more at night. 

Second Austin Visit

When I'm asked if a decision has been made about moving, my answer is vague. It's not intentional, the only choice I've really had to make so far is whether or not to stay employed with the Drafthouse. Their deadline has come and gone, and I am still in Marfa.  I have given formal notice to the company where I spent the past seven and a half years, working very happily for the first six. I sent the email to the new head of HR late on Wednesday night from Austin after being involved in a hit and run accident in the parking lot of Emo's where I had just seen Adam Ant. My visit was filled with mixed experiences like this one, making my choice of homes a tough one. Returning to Marfa was made a little sweeter by the fact that my car's rear bumper was hanging on by a roll of duct tape, however. Here are some other highs and lows of this visit.

High: Spending quality time (eating) with my boy. Adrian and Wynne joined the big birthday dinner at Justine's where he enjoyed his steak slathered with butter at the coaxing of the older guys who could no longer indulge; he and I lunched on healthier fare at Mr. Natural before picking up the settlement from his bicycle accident: justice was served with a side of spinach salad; and I met the two of them at the Round Rock Chuy's for a cheesy-good dinner on my last night before heading out to see Adam Ant. I know the way to my boy's heart. 

Low: Having to say goodbye to my pet fish of the past twelve years. For most of that time a fourty gallon tank was home to four South American fish, but for the past few years it's been down to just two. I had no idea of the life expectancy of tropical fish, and despite multiple suicide attempts by Shiny the gigantic tin foil barb, they had outlived their welcome. Neither the tank nor its occupants were wanted by the current residents of my Austin house. I scooped them up in a bucket to transport them to an aquarium store that accepted 'used' fish. The bucket wasn't manageable with the lid, and the second I set them down on the sidewalk to open the car door, Shiny made one last attempt at freedom or death. He leapt out onto the sidewalk and flopped around on the grass while I searched for a way to pick him up (it's harder than it looks: they are slimy and strong); I hoped he wouldn't die in this stupid way after all these years. Before I knew it he was in the street and flopping his way under my car. I grabbed the lid, caught him on it mid-flop, and quickly dropped the huge fish back into the water. I felt like I had to explain why there was grass and dirt in the water once we made it to Aqua Tek, but the clerk wasn't deterred by the trauma we had just been through. He carefully lowered my two longtime companions into a very large, very clean tank that held only two other fish. I said my goodbyes through the glass while Large Marge, the sweet severum, lingered in front of my face trying to make me cry. 

High: Getting to see not one, not two, but five great bands from the past. Paul's band Superego played their annual reunion show with Sin Pelo, and I was fortunate to be in town for the Blondie/Devo and Adam Ant tours. It is ridiculous how much music there is in Austin, and I have always enjoyed this particular aspect of life there. I danced at all of these shows and had a blast. 

Low: Everything I had to deal with in going to these shows. Traffic was cut down to two lanes on I-35 on the way to see Adam Ant from dinner in Round Rock. A distance that should have taken me 20 minutes took about 45, and I missed the first half of the concert. My car actually overheated just as I was exiting the highway and able to drive at a normal speed. Lucky for me, it quickly cooled down and I was able to make it to the club just in time for 'Ant Music'.  It wasn't a complete surprised when my car was hit in the parking lot after the show; I had been put on edge by aggressive drivers for much of the visit. The worst part was thinking that I wouldn't be able to drive my car back or that my return would be delayed. Taping the bumper back on with zebra-striped duct tape was a mini-high in this low. 

Other Highs: chocolate cake from Upper Crust, seeing my old cat Bob, hanging out after the Hole in the Wall show like college students, dinner at Sagra...

There were a few other lows, but let's focus on the positive! I'll always have mixed feelings about my home of 30 years, but will continue to go back for visits very regularly. I feel perfectly fine being in a state of limbo for the time being. My life has been full of big decisions; I'm going to let this one work itself out. 

It's a Mystery

I wasn't supposed to be in Marfa this weekend. Two things made me postpone my trip back to Austin, and these past couple of days have definitely had an out-of-body feeling to them. As I began writing at 2:45 am on Saturday, thinking I should be resting up for the long drive the next day, the town was covered in a dense fog giving everything that dreamlike quality used in movies to let the viewer know what they are witnessing is not really happening. It was chilly out, and some patrons approached the bar in jackets and scarves making me all the more anxious about the lone flimsy cardigan sweater in my closet. We had a fire in the outdoor fireplace all evening, and it's wonderful smell triggered the sensation that the holidays were near even though it's only the middle of September. The cool temperatures won't last much longer though, and this fog was probably a result of the warmer air moving back in. 

Friday night Padre's once again hosted the Moondogs, Marfa's oldies cover band. As the band was just getting into the swing of their three hour set, the lady working the door approached me and asked, 'Is there another band tonight?'. It seems there was a miscommunication about a booking, and a very bewildered but gracious young woman insisted that she should be playing. Her band, Time & Temperature, was a duo consisting of herself and another young and cute person, this one male. They were from Ohio and had just pulled into town from Austin, tired, hungry, and bewildered at the scene on stage. Through some miracle of everyone wanting to make things work out, they did. They were traveling lightly, and actually had an extra day in their schedule; neither had been to Marfa, and I convinced them that sticking around to play the next evening was actually a blessing in disguise. We fed them burgers and found them a place to crash for the night. I knew that there would be a large group of Bandidos at the bar the next evening following the memorial service for Rich. I knew the mellow music the singer described to me might not go over well with them. I hoped for the best. 

As the Moondogs were winding down, some Bandidos began to congregate at the bar. They were extremely nice and made me wonder how anyone could have an issue with bikers (a term which a local let me know is derogatory, so I will not use it again). The president of the Alamogordo branch had hung out with Rich recently and said that he spoke highly of me - I wondered later if this could be true or if it was his way of making me feel like I was one with them. Even if it was just a way to win me over, it worked, and I looked forward to seeing them the next evening. 

There were several groups of visitors during Friday's lunch, and most of them came back for the music that night. There was the woman and two men who had been camping in Big Bend for several days, and were enjoying the remainder of their vacation in Marfa's version of civilization. As I worked in the office late Saturday afternoon I saw them approach Padres' entrance once again and overheard the woman exclaim, 'That's what was in the bottom of your beer glass!'. My mind raced, what could it be? The only thing I could come up with was the recycled broken glass on our landscaping, and hoped I wouldn't find myself apologizing to them in a few minutes. Later that evening, without my asking, the woman showed me a picture she had taken of the glass. It was a very clear smiley face which seemed to have formed from the remaining beer foam! She said there was a sticker on a car right outside which matched it, and they took it as a sign of Marfa's mysteriousness (the car was mine, and the sticker was from OK Mountain, a gallery in Austin.) Like a madonna appearing on everyday objects, this smiley face sighting made us feel blessed and special. 

It was beginning to look like the Bandidos had all gone home after the memorial, but around 9:30 pm things started to pick up at the bar, and I noticed more and more of the red and yellow patches on jackets of men and an equal number of women. Time and Temperature had spent the day walking around town promoting their show, and I also noticed people coming in who looked like they were there for the band. One Bandido named Reboot asked me what kind of music they would be playing. I knew that there had been a classic rock cover band at the memorial earlier that day, and couldn't think of anything more opposite than what they were about to experience. 'I'm not sure, kind of mellow I think,' was my vague answer. 
'Is it rock and roll? We like rock and roll!' 
'No...' 
I let him know that there was an outside patio that they might want to move out to. We continued talking and I told him that they were alright with me, that I took each person as an individual, and they had all been nice. His response was 'If you treat us good, we treat you better. If you treat us bad, we treat you worse.' We all behaved like little Fonzies, and the only person that was asked to leave was a local that was too drunk to realize that he was being obnoxious with a bunch of guys he would normally not be messing with. 

One of my favorite film quotes is from Shakespeare in Love. The high-strung owner of The Rose played by Geoffrey Rush remarked that all would turn out well despite the insanity of the moment. When asked 'How?' he responded with 'I don't know, it's a mystery.' 
It is a mystery. The room was full during the performance, and the crowd demanded an encore. The Bandidos did not leave. We quickly put on Black Sabbath via Pandora afterwards, and everyone stuck around until closing time. I noticed the singer and one of the Bandido leaders engrossed in conversation for the rest of the night behind her merch table. A trio of British girls hung around as we scooted everyone out the door, and when I took out the trash on my way home 45 minutes later I heard one of them squealing as she took off on the back of a motorcycle. 
I'm sure it all turned out well. 

A Cold Day In Marfa

I can't help feeling that I had something to do with the cold & windy weather that came to Marfa yesterday: I just got my bicycle out of the shop. I've walked all over town for the past 10 weeks, longing for the day when I could join the flocks of cyclists who breeze by me on their cruisers. I finally dropped off my own Bianchi with the Bike Man in Alpine for his thorn-resistant tire treatment last week, and added a cute little basket for the handlebars to my bill. 

There was an intense storm in Marfa yesterday morning that woke everyone up around 4am with its downpour. On the drive to Alpine shortly after noon, clouds were so low they covered the tops of the little hills, making the desert landscape I've memorized with each passing week unrecognizable. I make this commute regularly to hit up one of Alpine's two Thriftway grocery stores which are slightly larger than Marfa's Pueblo Mart, and have gotten caught in the rain about half of the time. It seems to rain in Alpine much more than in Marfa, and as I returned to my little town with bike in tow, I spotted some blue sky between the oppressive gray. 

As soon as Padres' groceries were unpacked,  I hopped on my bike. I'm the kind of rider that needs a destination, so I decided to check for mail. My tiny basket was just right for a load of bills! Even though I haven't checked our post office box in three days, I found no mail for Padre's. I rode on. I've been wanting to check out the intriguing gift shop at Paisano Hotel, and was thrilled to simply lean my bike against the outside wall, unlocked and exposed. Riding a bicycle gives one such a feeling of freedom, and to be able to just ride without the worry of theft is amazing. I chatted with Donnie, one of Padre's beloved regular customers who mans the shop, and purchased a few little items to carry in my basket. There was a chilly wind blowing from the northeast, so I cut my ride short. I enjoyed my taste of Marfa on two wheels and look forward to getting around town this way before winter completely takes hold. 

Having lived in Austin for 30 years, I know what to expect from the seasons there. I suffered through the unyielding heat of summer gladly in exchange for the mild winters. A few Marfa residents warned me about the difficult winter months before moving out, but I initially imagined that I'd be safely back in the familiarity of my hometown by November. Now that my trip has an open return date, I am thinking more seriously about the potentially harsh days ahead. When the subject of winter comes up with anyone who has lived here for more than a year, I hesitantly ask, 'Is it that bad?' I'm now hearing that it isn't really much different from Austin. Yes, the wind can be intense at times, but no, it rarely snows. Seeing 40 degree temperatures on the forecast in September is a little daunting, especially with only one small sweater and light jacket in my closet, but I am returning to Austin in just a couple of days and will bring back more layers of warmth. And I'm planning a train trip to the west coast for January. 

Reunions

This Saturday is my 30th high school reunion in Richardson. I might consider going if it wasn't going to be such a busy weekend at the bar. It's fine with me, I wasn't sure how I felt about it anyway. I went 10 years ago, and while it was interesting seeing people, I left disappointed that my two closest friends from high school weren't there. In the past six months or so there has been a growing facebook presence for the class of '82, but it really only reminds me of how isolated I felt during those years. My graduating class was huge, and there are few people who would even remember me. I felt like the main character in Freaks and Geeks, not really fitting into any of the cliques. Like Lindsay Weir, I gravitated towards the freaks, but wasn't really one of them. What was the appeal? Rebellion? Personally, I didn't care about the drinking and drugs, and definitely didn't want to get into trouble. I guess the music had a lot to do with it. Life for me didn't really begin until after high school, and it's those first years in Austin that I prefer to reminisce about. 

I felt a reunion of sorts this past weekend when a band from my early college days, Joe King Carrasco & the Crowns, performed at Padre's. Before the band came out, David Beebe spoke of seeing them at Steamboat in Austin 'back in the day', when Joe jumped from the balcony onto the stage. There were enough people working behind the bar, so when they started playing and David immediately cut loose on the dance floor, I had to join him. The Crowns sounded as great as ever, and I was moved to dance quite vigorously for most of their set. Us old-timers pulled out the 80's moves, and everyone joined in the fun. David turned to me at one point and asked, 'Ski Shores or Steamboat?' I've got a few years on him...Ski Shores. I talked with the band about that show at Fiesta Gardens afterwards, remembering the day and those times. 

In the past week, other musical intersections have surfaced organically. Paul's friend Miles Zuniga is in town for a few days, and our conversations usually lean towards music and interesting stories from Miles' past (I told him he should write a book). In speaking of the band The Replacements, we found that we were all at their show at Liberty Lunch in the late 80's. This isn't really that unusual, knowing us, and Paul and I have found that we were actually at a lot of the same places at the same time. Somehow our circles didn't intersect until all these years later, but having a lot of music and memories in common has made us feel like old friends. Our memories of that show were very different, however. I thought it was a difficult one to get through while they thought it was the best one ever!

I was at a party two nights ago, and someone had on a t-shirt from the Texas Union in Austin. There were two performance spaces in this building on the UT campus; one was the Ballroom (where I saw The Replacements for the second time), the other was a room whose main function was a cafeteria - the Texas Tavern. One of the guys said that he had a friend who saw Jane's Addiction there. 'I was at that show!' I exclaimed. I explained that there were only about 10 of us there that night, it was right before their first album hit big. I've told a few people about this legendary show, and even filled it in on a Jane's Addiction website which contains all of their past tour dates; the specific location of the show was actually missing! In all my years in Austin, I've never run into anyone who was there. This one-degree-of-separation encounter was the closest. 

The most coincidental of these reunions happened last Friday with a woman who was visiting Marfa from Brooklyn. Lisa came on the trip alone to do research for a screenplay she's writing, so ended up spending some time sitting at the bar at Padre's. Seeing her there the second time, I struck up a conversation, and we discovered that we were actually the same age even though we each had thought we were older than the other (compliments all around!). She mentioned wanting to go to the Ballroom Marfa opening down the street, but not wanting to go alone and having to have those introductory conversations with everyone she talked to. It was slow enough that I wasn't needed at the bar for the moment, so we walked to the gallery together. On the way it came up in conversation that she had a wild youth and had actually dated the drummer from INXS. Lisa said she met him at their show with Adam Ant at the Bronco Bowl. "I was there!!" We screamed like 18 year olds, but didn't care. The bond was instant. 

Having these experiences way out here in Marfa makes me feel that I am on the right track. I'm not missing anything from my past, it is somehow following me out here. Being in an isolated place, but having more connections with people than ever makes the world feel like a much smaller place. Smaller even than my big high school felt to me 30 years ago. 

Marfa Soundtrack

There are some songs that will forever remind me of this time in Marfa. They are either constantly in the air or in my head; all are significant. These songs embody my hopes and struggles, and help express how I'm feeling. One or two exhibit the strange way things are linked in my mind, like a memory exercise gone wrong. They are my soundtrack, and when the movie is made of my life in Marfa, that part is in the can. 

You Can Get It If You Really Want
Among the few possessions that made the cut on the first trip out was my little portable turntable, however, while packing I never found time to go through my records. So in the eleventh hour, with my car loaded down and running, I quickly pulled a few albums from my collection. The Harder They Come soundtrack was one of them. The songs of Jimmy Cliff and the other great reggae musicians featured on it are inspirational to me. I like putting this record on in the morning when I'm getting 'up' for a day at work. The CD is also on the jukebox at Padre's, and this song seemed to come up more than any other in my first weeks here, even when I wasn't the one making the selections. The lyrics became my mantra, 'You can get it if you really want but you must try, try and try, try and try. You'll succeed at last'. Its about working very hard to reach a goal, and how that goal is all the more satisfying for the effort. 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=18EAqHx2lMk

Don't Do Me Like That
This great old Tom Petty song goes through my head when I am let down by someone. The someone is usually an employee, and they are usually telling me they can't work when I need them. When a new hire quits after two weeks because they just decided to go back to school, when one of my precious few staff needs off during a busy weekend, or when the appliance repair place says they can't get the part to us by festival weekend when weeks before they said it would be no problem...I hear this song more than I'd like. But it is quickly followed by The Beatles' 'It's getting better all the time, better, better, beeeeettter'!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dL6XwAl_hNo


I Got Stripes
This Johnny Cash song pops into my head just about every time I drive past one of the two Stripes convenience stores in Marfa. Both are on highway 90, the main street that goes through town, so you're going to pass one of them just about every time you're in the car. This is one of those free-association songs; I certainly don't feel like I'm in prison, but I am listening to a lot of Johnny Cash these days. It wouldn't even matter, as my brain seems to have an endless number of songs cataloged by odd lyrics, filling my head with music at random moments. When Adrian was younger, I made him crazy singing these songs out loud as I drove him to school. 'Do you have a song for everything?,' he would ask. I'm afraid so. 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R5yZlk1Tz0A


My Own Space
This is not one of Steve Miller's better songs, but it was on the one album of his that I owned while growing up, Book of Dreams. Sometimes I hear it when I'm driving through the endless, open landscape; sometimes when I'm in my little casita, enjoying a moment to myself. It's got to be the corniest song I could possibly summon in these times, and maybe talking about it will make it stop!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N6NJBjbO8LM

Move Me On Down the Line
This is the first song on side two of the ZZ Top album Tres Hombres, a record that gets some regular play at Padre's in both jukebox and vinyl form. I select this particular track often, and I hear it sometimes when I'm doing the drive between Austin and Marfa. It makes me think of moving to a new place, and just moving in general. ZZ Top seems to be a unifying force around here, everyone enjoys them. It's.like Ty, owner of the Lost Horse Saloon, said: 'If you don't like ZZ Top, you can just get the f* out of Texas'. 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RjdiWGB8d28

Cool Water
Jon Aielli played this song like a million times on KUT during the drive back to Marfa after my first Austin visit. As he is known to do, he played different versions, read and re-read the lyrics, and was generally pretty obsessed with it. My dad listened to a lot of Marty Robbins when I was growing up, and his is the 'real' version for me, although I think Jon left that one out. Being in the middle of the desert, Marfa is dry and dusty like the images in the song. At the same time, it's a dreamlike oasis, sitting on a plentiful aquifer rich in minerals and home to the most interesting community of people you'll find in the whole state. 
This song also reminds me that I need to drink more water!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E8ewWSMNoHI

Ramble On
It wouldn't be right to leave Led Zeppelin off this mixed tape, as they have got to be the most-played band at Padre's. Just last Sunday, Rocky played his ipod during his bar shift and we had six straight hours of Zep with no repeats! They are another of those bands that just about everyone can agree on, and now that we are coming upon the one year anniversary of Mr. Plant's visit to Marfa, I'm hoping our eternal flame will draw him back to us. If you play it, he will come. 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ddD9efO1Hc

Marfa Stuff

I came to Marfa with very little. My car was loaded down, but a lot of space was taken up by Padre's merchandise and my cats. Leaving possessions behind has always had a strange appeal for me. The attraction is not just about lightening my load, but about taking my most special things with me, and I carefully chose the stuff that makes my new home here. Back in Austin, it became increasingly easy to avoid stores and garage sales as my little house became full. Here in my tiny space in Marfa, there is only room for necessities. It's a good thing, because there aren't really any stores anyway. I am at heart a collector, though, and even the lack of space won't keep me from acquiring a few special things that call to me. 

I got this poster print of a still life with sunflowers at the local thrift store. There was a companion piece with brighter colors and different flowers, but I loved everything about the sunflower picture and didn't think twice about breaking up the set. I found a place for it on my casita wall just above the turntable. About a week later, I had a real-life bouquet of sunflowers to match it when Padre's was given several bunches of them to decorate our bar after an art opening. 

The Alice in Wonderland coffee cup surfaced among the few odd mugs at Padre's one day, and I immediately claimed it as my own. We have a collection of bright Lotteria cups which is rounded out with others like this one, leftovers from past events. I had heard of the legendary Wonderland birthday party thrown by a wealthy ranch owner from a couple of different sources, so don't doubt it's veracity, but can't with any authority recount the illegal events that took place over the course of the weekend. I am happy that this particular cup can now exist as a reminder of a more wholesome time, and think of the amazing Lewis Carrol stories I read to my boy when he was little while enjoying my morning coffee. I feel something of a spiritual connection with Alice as I, too, have found myself in a very different place filled with curious characters!

I came across the vintage-inspired Corona beer tray at Murphy's Raspa shop in Alpine, where I was told I could find rolls of oil cloth fabric for Padre's banquet tables. Unfortunately, the merchandise section of the business was closing, and there was little left to shop through. But I found some fabric as well as a few little Dia De Los Muertos figurines that perfectly decorate the empty shelves in the ladies room at the bar. I didn't notice the tray at first as it was filled with dry rice and beans and holding a sad little pair of maracas. I have a thing for trays, and wanted it badly enough to have the helpful employee send a text to the store owner for a price. I filled it with treats for the kids when they visited, and now it is filled with goodies for me. 

Having a simplified wardrobe has also been a fantasy of mine, and I have only added a few, carefully chosen items to the clothes I brought with me to Marfa. I spoke of my perfect white dress with lacy accents in an earlier blog, and just this past week I found a great pair of broken-in brown cowboy boots to go with it. Ellie's little vintage shop, Mid Century Marfa, is like a speak-easy for clothing. Once you've been shown the way by a friend, you may shop unattended at any time of the day or night; simply leave the cash for your purchases in the secret compartment and be on your way. When I made an unfortunate scratch on my boots while wearing them to work for the first time, Ellie said, that's ok, that's what they're for. Years of ruining favorite items of clothing through day-to-day living has also made me philosophical. Like the scars on my skin, I like to think of these stains and scratches as reminders of past times, and will always remember the day I cleaned out the broken bottle cooler in the back bar at Padre's. 

I'm lucky to be working at a live music venue where I have really liked every band that has come to play. I end up spending a portion of my own tip money on their cds, records, and t-shirts, and have a nice collection going. I have cute t-shirts from Not in The Face! and Horse Opera (attention bands: keep making girl-sized shirts!) and music to-go from Carter Beckworth, Outernational, Agent Ribbons, and Dana Falconberry. The later two included containers that are works of art in themselves. Leave it to female musicians to think of details like handmade cd cases to appeal to us girly-girls. 

                              cds by Agent Ribbons & Dana Falconberry and piece of Building 98 mural

And I almost failed to mention my most prized acquisition in these two months, as it is something that I was given and does not have a monetary value. It's an actual piece of the wall from Building 98, the space that two German artists who happened to be prisoners of war painted during their imprisonment in Marfa during World War II. The murals which covered the walls in two large rooms of the officers' club depict the Texas landscape of the area through the eyes of these German men who loved the west, and as stories tell it, had a friendly relationship with the people of Marfa. They have been painstakingly restored over the past year by Yano, an enthusiastic young man that I had the pleasure of knowing in my first few weeks here. He livened up open mics and parties with his acoustic-white-boy versions of hip hop songs which he would ad lib in true rapper style. In restoring the paintings, Yano had to repaint certain sections that had crumbled away due to water damage. At his farewell party, an unveiling of the restoration, I commented that it would be cool to have one of those pieces and without hesitation he bent down and picked up a chunk that hadn't yet been swept away. Souvenirs like this are by far my favorite. Not cheap recreations of the original, but a tiny piece of the real deal. 

A Padre's History Lesson

Last night I had the luxury of hanging out on the 'right' side of the bar. I was on hand to help out a newer bartender if needed, and entertained myself by playing records, chatting, and occasionally checking facebook on my laptop. Duncan, the rock-star-looking guy I had hired the day before to be our newest bar back and unofficial bouncer dropped by for a beer. He was followed by Ty, the owner of one of our neighboring bars and a Marfa icon due to his larger-than-life personality and striking resemblance to the Marlboro Man. Ty took a stool next to me at the end of the bar and Duncan quickly parked himself on the other side. 

I shut my laptop when Ty began talking about the tiles in the two arches behind the bar. I had heard snippets of the remodeling saga of Padre's from several people who were around and involved, but Ty was the contractor and did most of the actual work himself. I started asking questions to keep him going. The bar really was made from the original flooring, and apparently if you are repurposing wood like this, you must be prepared to have your finished product be a small fraction of the size of the original. The entire old hardwood floor was used in making the bar, and a new pine floor was put in it's place. To save money, and because no one would know the difference anyway, Ty used old stove pipes for the metal bar siding instead of the fancy tin that the designer had planned. He went as far as Presidio to collect enough metal, and carefully fit the pieces together in his shop. 

When I have set-backs in my quest to make Padre's a successful business, I only need remind myself of the hardships that were endured in building the place. I knew the roof had fallen in as a result of the work being done on the old building, and the entire top of it was raised by several feet when a new one was made. What I didn't realize was the amount of time this took, both in the working and in the waiting. Those who made this place were very patient and determined. Raising the roof with metal beams holding it up allowed a center wall to be removed, making the nice big space we now enjoy when live music graces the stage. The building had actually been divided into two separate businesses in it's first incarnation. 

Ty mentioned an auto shop, and I had heard that it was also a feed store before the funeral home; I asked him if he could confirm this. He said that one side had actually been a general store, and the other was a wagon shop which became a Model T shop with the advent of cars. The garage door was too small for the early cars to get through, so a rut had to be dug out in the adobe floor below to allow them to get in and out for work. Ty also had the real story on the funeral home, including it's lay out. There are rumors that Padre's kitchen was once an embalming room (how's that for an appetite killer?), but according to Ty, that dirty work actually took place in the men's room. Much more fitting. I don't even want to say what the mop closet was; suffice it to say, the strange odor that wafts out whenever that door is opened now makes perfect sense. 

Ty took his leave after finishing his whiskey and Lone Star, and for a short time we all went back to our separate diversions. Moments later, Duncan got word that a friend of his was killed in a motorcycle accident earlier that day. Paul and I met Rich and his wife our first week in town, and he fascinated us with his stories of working back-stage security at a big club in Houston. He had lived an interesting life, and had actually stated in the course of our conversation that he wasn't afraid of death. 

Rich and a few other members of the Bandidos motorcycle gang were at Padre's just this past Saturday. Seeing the four of them sitting at the bar in their jackets inspired me to run and get my camera. Rich indulged my photo, and actually posed, asking if it would be posted on facebook. For a member of a motorcycle gang who had lived a lot of life and looked it, Rich was the nicest, gentlest  person, and gave me words of encouragement and praise for my work at the bar. After lunch and a beer, the Bandidos left us, but the sky turned very dark in the north and east, and thunder as loud as the train that quickly passes just feet from our building made us take notice. Before long, the Bandidos returned. Rich said the storm they encountered when they were half way to Fort Davis made even the toughest of them decide that turning back was the best option. Several other patrons were trapped with us for a good hour while rain and hail pelleted the metal roof of Padre's. I agreed with Rich that it was smart that they followed their instincts this time and didn't ride in the weather even though they had survived similar storms in the past. I can't help feeling now that Rich simply bought himself another week in that hour at Padre's, and I hope it was a good one for him. I know that he was where he wanted to be and was living his life the way he wanted to, so I'm sure it was. 

                                                               RIP Rich Hoffman

The Hard Way

When giving Adrian advice while he was growing up I used to say I didn't want him to have to learn the hard way. I was reminded of this the other night while training Holly to close down the bar. It's not rocket science, but there are some little details that one wants to pass on such as, don't pull the plugs on all three sinks at the washing station simultaneously or the drain will overflow. It only takes doing it once to figure it out for yourself, and sure enough, Holly saw what I meant when she forgot (it had been a long day!) and water came spilling out on her shoes. As we laughed about it, she told me of the list she's compiling of things no one ever tells you not to do. Cutting duct tape with your teeth was on it. She learned this difficult fact when she ended up pulling half her lip off. Now that I think of it, why isn't there a warning for this on the package?

Just like we want to share our warnings, we want to let others know about good things they might enjoy experiencing. Learning a lesson from experience is hard, but discovering something great on your own makes the experience better. Being naturally enthusiastic, I have become reserved in my endorsements of certain things, if for no other reason than I feel I have more appreciation if I'm not expecting much, and want to give others this gift. This is especially true for movies. Some of my best movie-watching experiences came when I got to sneak into tech screenings at Alamo with no information other than what was printed on the poster. I avoid reading reviews and turn off the radio when upcoming films are being discussed, yet it's still difficult to go into a theater these days without having some kind of idea what the movie's about, and that is by far the best way to enjoy it. 

I think Marfa fits into this category, too. Luckily, there is no public relations person for the town and no campaign to bring in more tourists. In a recent NPR story about the arts scene in Marfa, the director of the Chinati Foundation stated that they didn't do marketing, and actually sounded offended by the question. Marfa is a word of mouth sort of place - it's about the search. Setting out on a path, meeting different people who help steer you, making your own discoveries on the way. Streets and buildings have no signs. It's part of the aesthetic as well as the mystique, like the Marfa Lights (which I tell people really aren't much to get excited about). Talking it up seems to  detract from the specialness. It reminds me of an episode of The Simpsons where Marge is talking to Bart and Lisa about what it means to be cool. She says, 'Well how the hell do you be cool? I feel like we've tried everything here." Don't try, just be. 


The first time I visited Marfa, I had no information other than a few photos on the El Cosmico website. The woman at the front desk there gave my friend and me a small map and pointed out both Padre's and the late night grilled cheese parlor and vintage electronics museum (which at that time didn't have a proper name...or sign). We found Padre's, but grilled cheese eluded us until the following night when a row of miniature TVs in the window glowed like a holy grail, and strange music from an empty school bus let us know we had found something special. I tried to give Adrian and Wynne the space to make their own discoveries on this first visit, and found that directing them came with challenges, anyway. Not knowing street names myself, they got a lot of, 'go down to the blinking red light and turn towards the courthouse...it's down there on the left somewhere'. Though I personally took them to the grilled cheese parlor when I learned that they missed it the previous night. Its amazingness cannot be overstated!

In this world where advertising is directed at us in every possible way, it's nice to be in a place that is generally free from that type of manipulation. We'll be waiting here for you to find us. Just go through the blinking red light and take a right on the street just past the church. 

Adrian's First Visit

I say 'first' with more confidence now that Adrian and his girlfriend, Wynne, have come to Marfa. They liked it and I am glad; I thought they would. Adrian probably would have liked it even better if he could have walked from place to place, but he is still limited due to his recent bicycle accident, and was using a very stylish cane to get from the car to each destination. 

They got in late on Thursday, and I waited up for them after training another new bartender to close down for the night. Work helped distract me, but I still spent that evening on needles and pins once the sun went down knowing that the small highways of west Texas weren't lit and had some winding parts. Cell phone reception comes and goes, and Adrian indulged my frequent texts to make sure Wynne was staying awake and that they were on the right track. When he texted that they were 10 miles away, I turned on the grill and tossed on the bread and cheese for sandwiches. I stood in the middle of the street next to Padre's to flag them down (we still need to get a better sign!), and almost hurt Adrian by hugging him so hard the second he got out of the car. They had picked up a little stray dog in Sonora, and it enjoyed running through the bar while we made plans for the weekend. By coming on Thursday, they ensured that Wynne would be available to help out with the big wedding rehearsal dinner that Padre's was hosting the next day, and that we would be able to get Food Shark. Since it's only open Tuesday through Friday for lunch, I considered this a major coup. 

The party went off without a hitch, and we celebrated with dinner at the high-end restaurant around the corner. I had set foot in Cochineal on three other occasions, but never managed to actually dine there. I instructed them to order whatever they wanted, and they both got the rib eye steak. It was Wynne's first steak, and I'm afraid it's all downhill from here for her. 

Ellie, the sweet woman who rents out rooms above the coffee shop (one which Paul and I stayed in so the kids could have our place), paid the nicest compliment to both Adrian and his girl. Wynne had stopped by her little vintage shop in one of the rooms and picked out a very cute 50's dress. Ellie was impressed with her and said that Adrian, who was waiting downstairs, must be a really great guy to have a girl like her. Yep. 

Their visit ended Sunday with lunch at Padre's. Adrian's dad and his band mate Carter, who just happened to be playing in Alpine that weekend, joined us. Adrian finally got to play air hockey with a worthy opponent, and I got to feed him one more time before sending him back home. One more piece of my quest to make Marfa my new home is complete: I know my boy will be back, and now he knows the way. 

I Am Still Here

To my friends and family

I am still here, but have been much too busy recently for any updates. They might not be too interesting right now, anyway. Lots of working. LOTS. Adrian is here for the weekend with his girlfriend Wynne, and for the time being, if I'm not working, I'm trying to get some time in with them. The two things combined last night when Wynne helped out at Padre's for our private party. That girl is golden in my book. Tonight we've got reservations at Cochineal, and I'm looking forward to my first meal there and to relaxing with them before they head back home on Sunday.

I'm looking for that light at the end of the tunnel, and hope to have more time to write in a week; less with some luck.

'til then...

My Special

Today I served my first special at Padre's. In a town with few restaurants, I am told the special is a welcome change to the predictability of the regular menu. I got my inspiration from our new little fryer, and decided to try out the delicious suppli recipe that has been so popular with my friends. 

To make the best suppli (or risotto balls as they are also known) you must make the risotto a day ahead. Saute diced onion in olive oil until soft, add the dry arborio rice and stir until coated with oil. The first addition of liquid is white wine; here is where the stirring begins and doesn't end until the risotto is almost finished. Once the wine is absorbed, add a couple of ladles of simmering stock to the rice at a time and stir, stir, stir. This is what gives risotto it's creamy goodness. When the last portion of stock is added, stop stirring and let it rest. I've found that letting food rest is an important part of cooking - if I can't rest, at least the food can. While the risotto rested, I steamed the bunch of fresh kale that I brought back from Austin. I intended to eat half, and save half for the next day, but my body must have been craving it and I devoured the entire bowl without a second thought. I stirred some grated parmesan into the finished risotto and put it in the fridge. 

Forming the balls is the fun part of the process, and I quickly accomplished this step in the morning between interviewing our newest cook, Joel, and holding the first meeting of kitchen employees. I used a medium ice cream scoop to portion and form the balls, stuffing a small cube of mozzarella in the middle of each. Three bags of arborio resulted in about 60 balls, enough for the 30 portions I planned. Each ball is dipped in egg, rolled in breadcrumbs, then set aside until it's time for the fryer. 

To accompany the suppli, I decided on bread salad with roasted tomatoes and green beans. This is another dish that I've made numerous times; simple and fool-proof. Fresh mozzarella, fresh basil, and tomatoes are the holy trinity of summer in my mind, and white beans added some protein to this vegetarian meal. Perfect. I carefully gathered the necessary ingredients in Austin, and even managed to salvage enough fresh basil from my garden back home to complete both this dish and my favorite sauce for the suppli. Multiple refrigeration issues have plagued me like a constant humming in my ears since returning from my weekend away, so I shouldn't have been surprised to discover my precious basil frozen in the dorm-sized fridge in my casita. Knowing the local grocer did not carry such an exotic item (!), and dreading the time-sucking trip to Alpine during my already-too-busy-day, I turned to facebook. 

Facebook, have I told you lately that I love you? I immediately got details on whose garden had not quite dried up yet, and a nice offer from a lady in Alpine who was coming to town at 6am. I was getting hopeful. Eventually, Padre's own regular-guest bartender Rocky joined the virtual conversation with 'I've got lots', saving my ass once again. Rocky owned and operated one of Marfa's sweetest little restaurants called The Miniature Rooster, and must have known exactly what I was feeling, because he delivered a huge bag to me with a smile, expecting nothing in return. 

As the dinner hour drew near, everything was prepped and quality-tested. The special plate was rounded out with a slice of fresh cantaloupe and a smattering of marinated green olives, pure and simple -my favorite qualities of Italian food. I was a black olive girl until my first trip to Italy; the magnificent green olive bread from Forno, a bakery in the Campo dei Fiori piazza of Rome, turned me and I've never gone back. Gil stood by to make the other menu items, and we expected an easy shift as we discussed the post-Beatles careers of George Harrison and Paul McCartney. He told me of the coffee shop he's building, and how nice it was to feel passionate about your work. I understood exactly what he was talking about. We were both surprised when order after order of cheeseburgers filled the rail. We got slammed, and I found myself shouting out 'cheeburger cheeburger' like John Belushi in that great old SNL skit about the Greek restaurant. 'no Coke, Pepsi.' At Padre's, we say, 'no Coke, RC' 

With more than half of my special leftover for tomorrow's lunch crowd, I am wondering; do people really want something that is new and different, or would they rather have the same reliable cheeseburger? To be continued...

The Road to Austin

I got on the road around 10am this morning after checking on the kitten and filling my leaky tire with air. With no tire shop in Marfa and no hope of one in Ft. Stockton, I once again threw caution to the wind and set out on the 430 mile drive with my fingers crossed. The other morning I was troubled to see this tire almost flat, but it had held air (mostly) for 24 hour periods since then. In Alpine, I stopped at Padres' bank and Plaine, the coffee shop whose name is an anagram of the town's name. Observing that the tire's roundness seemed unchanged, I continued on to Ft. Stockton. I figured that I could make it to Austin by simply getting air every 100 miles. I counted my quarters - no problem!


Thus, my journey was divided into four 100 mile segments. During the first leg I listened to Marfa Public Radio, and caught a repeat of a Morning Edition story on my new home from that very morning. I was sad to be leaving Marfa, but happy to be on the way to see my boy and to have a fun weekend in Austin. I heard two Dylan songs in this radio-fueled stretch, a familiar one whose words I really paid attention to this time (Like a Rolling Stone), another that I never knew Dylan covered (Freight Train Blues). The programming seemed to be custom-made for my drive and I was off to a good start. 


I lost reception around the 100 mile mark, and after stopping for air the second time I switched to Drive Time Spanish. This six CD set attempts to make one conversational in the time it takes to drive across Texas. It had been several weeks since my last lesson, and I had trouble keeping up with questions about what time the theater started and what Marisa needed from the store. I enjoyed repeating the phrases without thinking too much about what I was saying. though. If I do this commute enough times, the meaning will eventually sink in. 


From Ft. Stockton, I could see that the next town was right around 100 miles. My plan was working out perfectly! I grew tired of the Spanish lessons as I was pulling into Ozona, and popped in The Shins. For the past year or two, my ipod -set to shuffle- has kept me entertained while driving, and it was a nice change to listen to a whole CD, especially one that makes such great use of the album format like 'Wincing the Night Away'. I was half-way there!


A mild sense of panic crept through me as I realized that there was no 'next town' listed on highway mileage signs. Ozona had been listed when it was a little less than 100 miles away, yet here I was over 40 miles out of Ozona and still nothing. I popped in ABBA's Greatest Hits and put my trust in the universe. The sign for Junction finally appeared like a mirage in the desert, and it was almost exactly 100 miles from my last stop. Yes! I was singing along with ABBA at the top of my lungs! This music fires more than one neuron in my brain. Some songs immediately take me back to my childhood: during the disco craze, even my parents had a copy of 'Voulez-Vous'. Working at Wheatsville Co-op in my 20's, I heard ABBA played over the store sound system by Neils, a very friendly young post-punk cashier with a mohawk. He was as sincere in his love of ABBA as he was about sporting a hair-style that was 10 years past its time. I didn't get it. Then one day while stocking natural shampoo, it hit me. I've been an unashamed ABBA fan ever since. Most recently, I enjoyed seeing 'Mama Mia!' in Las Vegas with Mary and Katie, and connect other songs to the story line of that musical. Paul promised to watch the movie version with me a few months ago...I made a mental note to remind him. 


As I aired up in Junction, I heard a faint hiss. It was definitely coming from my tire: I felt air escaping from a small spot at what felt like an alarming rate. I decided that the best course of action was to buy a sandwich. If my tire was about to go flat, I wanted it to happen while I was not on-the-highway-going-80-miles-an-hour. I asked the guy at the counter if there was a service station nearby; he said my best bet was about 15 miles down the road at the Segovia Truck Stop. My tire inexplicably showed no signs of deflating, so I pressed on. Those were the longest 15 miles of the whole trip. Pieces of tires seemed to be strewn all along the highway, and images of the unlucky travelers I had passed earlier that day changing flats or looking otherwise stranded kept running through my head. I hoped against hope that I would not be one of them. Even ABBA couldn't cheer me up, and I drove this section in silence. 

Segovia only had one exit, and it was there I found the truck stop and, behind it, the service bay with an offer of 'new and used tires' on the sign. I had peeked at my full-sized spare before leaving town, and thought getting it on was the best solution for now. Feeling a little more hopeful, I tore open the gas station sandwich I purchased in Junction and waited patiently for the attendant to finish with the tires on the flat bed trailer ahead of me. I called both Paul and Holly, who each mentioned the unbearable heat in Austin. The truck stop radio weather report said today's high was 101. I realized that I hadn't been aware of the temperature the entire month I had been in Marfa. The reporter then said something that really alarmed me: people should not work outdoors between the hours of 2 and 7. Does anyone else think this is extremely uncool? (pardon the pun)


The attendant made me sweat it out for an hour, after which time I was so happy to have a tire on my car that I paid $18 to the truck stop and $20 to him for sweating more than me. I jumped in the car and didn't stop again until I was in Austin. All Things Considered kept me company for the remainder of the trip, yet I found my mind wandering through story after story about the economy. I have been blissfully unaware of the big picture for the past month. My world was about to expand again and I'd better readjust, at least temporarily. Living in a small town has made me rediscover my love for people in general. Here, outside of Marfa, I found myself being kinder to people I came across. Now when I say 'have a nice day' to the lady working the counter at the gas station, I really mean it. 

Sunset On My First Month

Today was one of those free work days where I had the luxury of drifting from task to task. My list was so long that I was able to choose each chore as my mood struck. Only the IRS and the necessity of getting our quarterly payroll report postmarked before the post office closed at 3 brought me out of this lovely haze for a brief hour. It's a good thing, too, as  the computer I inherited in the Padre's office will rush for no one. Instead of getting frustrated, I used it as an opportunity to hone my zen-master skills. 

As the day drew to an end, I headed out to Holly's to check on her kitten. She left for Austin this morning, and we are trading cat-sitting gigs this week. The timing worked out perfectly; we will actually pass each other on I-10 sometime Thursday afternoon. Since the sun was going down, I grabbed my camera, hoping for a pretty sunset. It is so dreamy on this edge of Marfa, and as I passed the cemetery that runs along the road to her house, I imagined the lucky souls lying there only having to rise as far as the surface of the ground to be in heaven. 

Driving back into town, I fully expected to have some difficulty parking in my usual places right next to my house or the bar, and it would have been ironic as I had just boasted about the lack of parking issues in my last blog. Ballroom Marfa was hosting a concert at the Crowley Theater which is just a block over from my house, basically across the street from Padre's. Even though the show had begun by this time, I had my choice of parking spaces. Where were all of the cars? One of those mysteries of Marfa. I quickly changed from my cut-offs to a little dress and headed over to see the Dirty Projectors. It was nice to buy a glass of wine from two of our regular Padre's customers; their turn to play bar. 

I enjoyed the show, and for the first half tried to think how I would describe the Dirty Projectors' sound in words. Imagine six people playing their instruments as if they couldn't hear what the others were doing. It might not seem like such a good thing, but  the angelic vocals of the three women in the band transcended the music. In one song, in fact, all three clapped a different rhythm while singing in unison. I couldn't really imagine listening to their music without being able to see them. We were lucky. I spent the second half of the show wondering what I would eat if I could have anything I wanted, knowing that I couldn't get anything I wanted at this hour in Marfa. 
I came home and settled for carrots and hummus. 

Running on Empty

I was just thinking about some of the little differences I've experienced since living in Marfa. One is the fact that I have driven my car for three days with the gas tank on empty. Just about everything having to do with my car has changed in a positive way: no looking for parking, no driving in traffic, no visiting the gas station once or twice a week. In Austin, I easily spent an hour a day getting from one place to another, and that was with living only four miles from work. Now I spend that time at work. 


For the past week I've worked non-stop, and very intensely at times. The first annual Viva Big Bend music festival ended last night with Paul's band, the Texas Tycoons, closing out the events at Padre's. From where I stood - literally -  the festival was a huge success. The bands were great, and our stock of just about everything is pretty well depleted. It's a high note to finish out my first month on, and I am so ready for a break. Running on empty doesn't begin to describe how I feel. Between the workers remodeling the house we're staying in and the cats howling to go out as soon as the sun comes up, I haven't had more than six hours of sleep a night all week. I've rotated out my three pairs of work shoes to keep my feet from hurting in the same way at the end of each day. Even now that the festival is over, I believe the only way I'm going to tear myself away from working every single day is to get out of town, and that is just what I'm doing this weekend. 


I had planned this trip back to Austin before the move, and now I have the best reason ever to go. My boy is injured and I want to be with him. A few days before his accident, I called him to make sure he was going to set aside some time from his busy work schedule to spend with me on this visit. Now that he is bedridden for weeks, that won't be an issue. My son is one of the most graceful, athletic people I know, but because he spends so much time on his bike (and skateboards in the past), I guess the odds are just against him when it comes to keeping all his bones intact. This is his third break, and the worst in that it has rendered him immobile. I'm feeling the miles of distance more than ever, but am grateful that he's got others there who love and take care of him. 


Lying in bed for a week sounds pretty good to my weary bones and muscles. It is Monday, and we should be opening shortly, but I will not do it by myself today..I declare that Padre's needs a rest just like me. I've swept up the hay that covered the dance floor after the Hickoids' great performance last night, and will now cross the street back home. It's a beautiful day here in Marfa, and I'm going to get outside and enjoy it.