A few weeks ago, the Knox-Broyles family drove six hours north to meet up with the Broyles duo, who had driven six hours south. A little place called Chickasaw National Recreation Area was our home for two days. We cooked. We hiked. We saw tarantulas. See for yourself in this photo gallery. (If you can't see it, you need to become my friend of Flickr. It's a pain, I know, but if you have a Yahoo account it's even easier. I have to keep one iota of privacy here, people.:))
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Dreams of space travel and simple days
I'm enjoying a very nice cup of coffee in Hotel ZaZa, a hip, upscale place right in the middle of Herman Park and the Museum District in Houston, where my balcony overlook the Museum of Fine Art and many of the park's lush trees.
I'm playing hooky from the Association of Food Journalists conference, a four day affair with dozens of other newspaper and freelance food writers, restaurant critics and food editors (all very different positions, I assure you), to A) catch up on a wee bit of sleep and B) reminisce about the last time I was in Houston for a conference.
It was a whopping 15 years ago (which is whopping when it's more than half your lifetime), in 1993, for a Young Astronauts conference, a gathering of members of Young Astronaut chapters from across the U.S. We had a pretty strong YA chapter in Aurora, where science-minded students from all elementary school grades would meet after school with teachers and talk about the bernoulli principle and jet propulsion and conduct experiments that involved messy ingredients and homemade hovercrafts that used vacuums to move around the smelly cafeteria where we met.
All very fun for eager 10-year-olds, but not near as much fun as going to NASA and hoping you pushed a wrong button that launched you and your buddies into space.
My mom, who as a teacher was one of the Young Astronaut leaders, had planned to go to that year's YA conference, but although my brain, like most young brains, understood she was going, I didn't comprehend what that meant until the day or two before she left. Once it clicked that she was about to go on a majorly cool adventure, I threw a fit and probably threatened to never talk to her again unless she let me go.
As my wee luck would have it, a small rural school my mom had once worked at was sending a busload of kids overnight to Houston (it was too late to get a plane ticket to go with Mom) and they had an extra seat. So I packed my little kid bags and headed to Bois D'Arc, which is where my parents were living when I was born, the night before the conference started. A TV crew was there, and KY3 anchor Tony Beason picked my little smiling face out of the crowd to interview for the nightly newscast (I ended up interning with him before starting Mizzou. Small world, huh?).
That long, dark bus ride was a milestone for me. Hunched in the rigid seats, I made fast friends with the older students, listening to the Beach Boys and Beatles on their Walkmans and checking out their teen magazines and for the first time getting what it meant to be cool.
By the time the sun rose, we were in a foreign land I now call home. Texas felt like the Deep South and going to NASA and touching the side of a rocket that had been in outer space made me even more sure that one day I, too, would go in space.
Hearing John Lennon sing "Help" might have given me a glimpse of the grown-up world, but I still embraced my childhood dreams.
In fact, as illogical as it might seem, this group of food journalists is going to NASA today, hypothetically to learn about the challenges of feeding astronauts in space, but for at least for one of them, it will be more about revisiting those eager, precocious days where anything was possible, the realities of adulthood be damned.
(If you want to see if I "accidentally" launch us into space on the field trip to NASA today, check out my live-tweeting of the conference, over on Twitter.)
I'm playing hooky from the Association of Food Journalists conference, a four day affair with dozens of other newspaper and freelance food writers, restaurant critics and food editors (all very different positions, I assure you), to A) catch up on a wee bit of sleep and B) reminisce about the last time I was in Houston for a conference.
It was a whopping 15 years ago (which is whopping when it's more than half your lifetime), in 1993, for a Young Astronauts conference, a gathering of members of Young Astronaut chapters from across the U.S. We had a pretty strong YA chapter in Aurora, where science-minded students from all elementary school grades would meet after school with teachers and talk about the bernoulli principle and jet propulsion and conduct experiments that involved messy ingredients and homemade hovercrafts that used vacuums to move around the smelly cafeteria where we met.All very fun for eager 10-year-olds, but not near as much fun as going to NASA and hoping you pushed a wrong button that launched you and your buddies into space.
My mom, who as a teacher was one of the Young Astronaut leaders, had planned to go to that year's YA conference, but although my brain, like most young brains, understood she was going, I didn't comprehend what that meant until the day or two before she left. Once it clicked that she was about to go on a majorly cool adventure, I threw a fit and probably threatened to never talk to her again unless she let me go.
As my wee luck would have it, a small rural school my mom had once worked at was sending a busload of kids overnight to Houston (it was too late to get a plane ticket to go with Mom) and they had an extra seat. So I packed my little kid bags and headed to Bois D'Arc, which is where my parents were living when I was born, the night before the conference started. A TV crew was there, and KY3 anchor Tony Beason picked my little smiling face out of the crowd to interview for the nightly newscast (I ended up interning with him before starting Mizzou. Small world, huh?).
That long, dark bus ride was a milestone for me. Hunched in the rigid seats, I made fast friends with the older students, listening to the Beach Boys and Beatles on their Walkmans and checking out their teen magazines and for the first time getting what it meant to be cool.
By the time the sun rose, we were in a foreign land I now call home. Texas felt like the Deep South and going to NASA and touching the side of a rocket that had been in outer space made me even more sure that one day I, too, would go in space.
Hearing John Lennon sing "Help" might have given me a glimpse of the grown-up world, but I still embraced my childhood dreams.
In fact, as illogical as it might seem, this group of food journalists is going to NASA today, hypothetically to learn about the challenges of feeding astronauts in space, but for at least for one of them, it will be more about revisiting those eager, precocious days where anything was possible, the realities of adulthood be damned.
(If you want to see if I "accidentally" launch us into space on the field trip to NASA today, check out my live-tweeting of the conference, over on Twitter.)
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Eat, Memory, Garlic
Eat, Memory: The Sixth Sense
By GARY SHTEYNGART
Published: October 9, 2005Growing up I dreamed of garlic the way some dream of bright city lights. I had smelled the forbidden vegetable (spice? herb?) during brief trips to Manhattan, roasted garlic coating the poorer sections of town, clinging to the peeling fire escapes, pouring down the tenement stoops to sucker-punch me in the nose, my 10-year-old mind reeling with flavor and summertime heat and the still inchoate idea that sex could somehow be linked with the digestive process (cf. "Seinfeld").
Read the rest here...
(I can see it now, a not-too-bald George (Jason Alexander) crawling out from under the ravenous bedsheet activities to get a bite of a sandwich he's hidden in the bedside stand.)
I read this food column in "Eat, Memory," a compilation of essays published in the New York Times Magazine under the editing of Amanda Hesser, the longtime Times food editor who is coming to the Texas Book Festival early next month.
The writing in this book is taking me back to Jacqui Banaszynski's class -- the last time I can remember my writing being so closely scrutinized -- where we had to sum up our stories and the stories we analyzed in one single solitary word.
In the exercises in her class, we had to get past that we were writing about dessert, for example, to realize our words more precisely represented tradition, comfort or adventure.
In this article, it's lust or maybe passion. But is this article by Tom Perrotta about finickiness or outright control? Is lying to your diners to preserve your perceived originality more about ego or pride?
Of course, we won't all agree, because the meaning we find says more about ourselves than the author's intention, but it's a fun game to play, especially when we're talking about food.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Since when were boogers this cute?
Julian has started to enjoy his baths more. It wasn't that he didn't like them; we just didn't bathe him that much, so he wasn't as accustomed to bathtubs as say, the bottom drawer of the fridge or the mailboxes outside by the laundry room.
But now, he's taken to actually getting into and out of the bath at his own willing. I'll suggest a bath, where he can wash with soap (italicized words are one he's calling out play-by-play through the evening) and water. Then he'll get the comb and brush his hair. Today, he's figured out what mommy is picking out of his nose.
But now, he's taken to actually getting into and out of the bath at his own willing. I'll suggest a bath, where he can wash with soap (italicized words are one he's calling out play-by-play through the evening) and water. Then he'll get the comb and brush his hair. Today, he's figured out what mommy is picking out of his nose.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Catching up
So much has been happening lately, there's hasn't been much time or mental capacity to blog much about what's going on.
Suffice it to say that living in uncertainty, both personal and environmental (hello, crazy news cycle and quickly changing world), creates endless opportunities for profound growth and discovery. As long as we remember that, we can conquer the intimidating unknown with grace and courage.
Here are some things that I do know:
ACL is a whole lot more fun when you randomly run into people you know. Marques Harper, the Statesman's style writer, and I had some fun playing around the shopping area at the festival yesterday, including taking some photos at the WaMu (read FDIC/JP Morgan) photo booth and shopping for sunglasses. We were both working the festival. My job was to take photos of people eating from the fabulous food court, which I wrote about earlier this week. His was to take photos of the fabulously dressed concert-goers. (His was the blog I contributed to when I was going through What Not to Wear in New York earlier this year.)
Tigers are cool. We saw this one at the Austin Zoo today.
Julian is awesome. His favorite thing to do now is drink "nilk," go "fast" and put "contats" in his eyes. Oh, and he's still obsessed with stars, trucks and "copters."
Community-supported agriculture helps make even a tiny, poorly lit kitchen like ours look lush and inviting.
Suffice it to say that living in uncertainty, both personal and environmental (hello, crazy news cycle and quickly changing world), creates endless opportunities for profound growth and discovery. As long as we remember that, we can conquer the intimidating unknown with grace and courage.
Here are some things that I do know:
ACL is a whole lot more fun when you randomly run into people you know. Marques Harper, the Statesman's style writer, and I had some fun playing around the shopping area at the festival yesterday, including taking some photos at the WaMu (read FDIC/JP Morgan) photo booth and shopping for sunglasses. We were both working the festival. My job was to take photos of people eating from the fabulous food court, which I wrote about earlier this week. His was to take photos of the fabulously dressed concert-goers. (His was the blog I contributed to when I was going through What Not to Wear in New York earlier this year.)
Tigers are cool. We saw this one at the Austin Zoo today.
Julian is awesome. His favorite thing to do now is drink "nilk," go "fast" and put "contats" in his eyes. Oh, and he's still obsessed with stars, trucks and "copters."
Community-supported agriculture helps make even a tiny, poorly lit kitchen like ours look lush and inviting.(Insert picture of a happy Julian with LaLa,
the wonderful South Austin abuelita who takes care of him during the days now.)
the wonderful South Austin abuelita who takes care of him during the days now.)
Having Julian in day care is a huge step forward for everyone in the house. Julian has needed the stimulation (in fact, it's possible his two naps a day were linked to boredom. I'd nap that much if I stayed home all day, too!), Ian has needed the space and I have needed to see how this next chapter of my life is going to look, which includes Julian being in "school." What's awesome is that LaLa wants the kids to be kids for as long as they can, so "school" is just her way of describing the playtime/learning time balance she gives them. I think Julian just really likes a sweet woman who lets him cook, a little fellow named DJ and a little thing called Nilla Wafers that mommy never buys.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Now and then
While we're talking about now, I have to talk about then.
Then being Austin City Limits Music Festival 2004. I had just returned from Spain and was approaching what I consider one of the most fulfilled, terrifying and exciting times of my life. It was Troy's idea to take a road trip from Missouri to Austin to go to the ACL Fest, the year highlighted by Spoon, Franz Ferdinand, Modest Mouse, Ryan Adams, Antibalis Afrobeat, the Pixies and Los Lonely Boys.
We left Columbia, Mo., after class Thursday afternoon four years ago and drove through the night, arriving at Uncle Tom's house just as he was leaving for work on Friday morning. We slept until he got home, drove with him downtown, renegade parked near Shoal Creek Saloon and walked to Zilker. We did this for three days, and on the third day, after watching Ben Harper close the festival, Troy and I drove through the night in time to make it to Monday morning classes, which neither of us felt like we could afford to miss.
I could regal you with stories -- little ones and big ones -- but mainly ones I know hold deep meaning only to me.
These photos capture that.
It was my first and last full ACL weekend, and tomorrow will be the first time I re-enter those gates. (In the years in between, I've only taken in the artists from the hike-and-bike trail or from friends' nearby houses.)
I will be working for the newspaper. I will have a child at day care (an addition in our lives that I haven't be able to adequately blog about).
I will have a restless heart and an overactive head. You see, some things never really do change.
It's the same, but different.
It is, but it isn't, Troy used to aggravate me by saying.
Not a day goes by that I don't wonder what he would say about my life now.
Monday, September 22, 2008
All of now
Sometimes, in life, we have to focus on the little things to get us through the big crashing waves of change. My mom directed me to this Ralph Marston Daily Motivator from Saturday:
Here is Julian "cooking" eggs, one of the many things that fills me with wonder and joy.
It is a privilege to be his mother.
All of now
The bright sun shines in the clear blue sky. Shimmering waves glisten on a restless sea.
Beauty fills the world. Possibility fills your life.
The problems are real. Yet in each one is the opportunity to move forward.
This sparkling moment is one of a kind. Take it in with love and with gratitude, and remember to live it fully.
This magical mystery that is your life knows only the limits you choose to give it. In the heart of your spirit you can experience anything you decide to experience.
Life is in all of now. See it, feel it and know it as it fills you with wonder and joy.
Here is Julian "cooking" eggs, one of the many things that fills me with wonder and joy.
It is a privilege to be his mother.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
A San Francisco treat
My time in San Francisco has been incredibly fun and fulfilling. Spending time with Emily, her boyfriend Kyle and her friends Sara and Weber has been awesome. We've eaten some killer sushi, enjoyed some beautiful sights and shared some delightful insights. These are the photos I've taken with my phone camera (I forgot the cord to my other one), so they will have to do until I get home....
Saturday, September 6, 2008
How do you say what you mean?
On my flight to San Francisco, when I was stuck without Internet, I started trolling my computer and found this AIM conversation between Troy and me from March 17, 2005. He was getting ready to graduate with a degree in journalism (I was supposed to graduate, too, but studying abroad for so long delayed me a semester), and we were buzzing along together in the height of our intellectual (and so clearly complicated and abstract) collegiate endeavors.
He died on June 23, 2006.
I’m really glad I saved this conversation.
Troy: i can't believe all this nick drake stuff is from late 60s and early 70s.
Addie: seriously?
A: gez...it never ceases to amaze me as to how much ground i still have to make up in the music world
T: yeah, it's etc.
12:20 AM
T: you can never say or know everything about anything.
A: tis is true
T: that is a general semantics fact.
A: but you can know more than average about something
A: looking into the things that interest you
T: whats average?
A: but that's such a sociological point...people think they're so fucking cool because they can quote every hemingway or hunter thomspon or the killers or you name the hot item of the moment
T: as long as they like it. then it probably is pretty fucking cool.
A: i guess by average i mean the basic definition of one thing.....you say fitzgerald, i say gatsby, you say franzen i say the corrections
A: who's they
T: i don't know you're the one who said it.
12:25 AM
A: wait, i don't think i said they
T: i have to go to sleep. nick drake is making me sleepy.
T: you said "people".
T: WHATever.
A: right, the rest of them
A: it's never ending
T: our language is self reflexive, so there's always another layer of abstraction that can be added. another picture of a picture of a picture.
A: oh jesus...i think we could go for hours on that
T: an abstraction of an abstraction
T: thats the point.
A: it's like modern art
T: we could go on for hours about anything and have not said everything.
T: or anything, for that matter.
A: jesus....it's like defining to be. it never works. but its fun to try
T: our language was created by people who thought the world was static and basically the same.
A: such fools
T: now we're stuck with a language that can't describe reality
A: but it's the closest thing we have, right?
T: which is really a process of continuous change.
T: well, we can start by throwing out the to be verbs.
A: right, but language is change, people is change, community is change...
A: as long as it is all changing, why not go with it
T: i don't get it. go with what? things arent changing. change is thinging. (sic)
A: the changes....good means bad, cool means weird...girl means boy....what was once totally right, now means wrong....what once seemed logical now seems strange...people once loved beef and now they think it's crazy
T: hahahaa.
12:30 AM
A: they loved milk and now reject it
T: they're all thinging.
A: people have lived off carbs for thousands of years and now it's wrong. who says that? i mean honestly
A: thinging...since when was that a verb???
T: it's so funny.
A: the cliche is that things are always changing, but you can't really reject that.
it comes in circles
T: what i reject is our language as a way to describe what's in my head. it simply doesn't work.
A: so what's the solution
T: i'm restricted to these silly words like silly.
A: hahaha
T: i'm living in a prison of culture.
A: but you can make these words mean what you mean
A: you can make "reasonable" mean what you want it to
T: i will leave you with this nick drake song.
A: and i'll leave you with that idea that the people who really understand you understand what you mean by the words you say...not what the dictionary defines them as, but what you mean them
T: but you will not understand what i mean because they mean different things in different contexts.
A: and each day it changes and i can only take a survey
T: i cannot transfer my thoughts to you. simply cannot be done.
A: i agree.
A: unfortunately
A: but that's the way life is...you cant' dwell on this as a miscommunication
⋯
12:35 AM
T: something must be done.
He died on June 23, 2006.
I’m really glad I saved this conversation.
Troy: i can't believe all this nick drake stuff is from late 60s and early 70s.
Addie: seriously?
A: gez...it never ceases to amaze me as to how much ground i still have to make up in the music world
T: yeah, it's etc.
12:20 AM
T: you can never say or know everything about anything.
A: tis is true
T: that is a general semantics fact.
A: but you can know more than average about something
A: looking into the things that interest you
T: whats average?
A: but that's such a sociological point...people think they're so fucking cool because they can quote every hemingway or hunter thomspon or the killers or you name the hot item of the moment
T: as long as they like it. then it probably is pretty fucking cool.
A: i guess by average i mean the basic definition of one thing.....you say fitzgerald, i say gatsby, you say franzen i say the corrections
A: who's they
T: i don't know you're the one who said it.
12:25 AM
A: wait, i don't think i said they
T: i have to go to sleep. nick drake is making me sleepy.
T: you said "people".
T: WHATever.
A: right, the rest of them
A: it's never ending
T: our language is self reflexive, so there's always another layer of abstraction that can be added. another picture of a picture of a picture.
A: oh jesus...i think we could go for hours on that
T: an abstraction of an abstraction
T: thats the point.
A: it's like modern art
T: we could go on for hours about anything and have not said everything.
T: or anything, for that matter.
A: jesus....it's like defining to be. it never works. but its fun to try
T: our language was created by people who thought the world was static and basically the same.
A: such fools
T: now we're stuck with a language that can't describe reality
A: but it's the closest thing we have, right?
T: which is really a process of continuous change.
T: well, we can start by throwing out the to be verbs.
A: right, but language is change, people is change, community is change...
A: as long as it is all changing, why not go with it
T: i don't get it. go with what? things arent changing. change is thinging. (sic)
A: the changes....good means bad, cool means weird...girl means boy....what was once totally right, now means wrong....what once seemed logical now seems strange...people once loved beef and now they think it's crazy
T: hahahaa.
12:30 AM
A: they loved milk and now reject it
T: they're all thinging.
A: people have lived off carbs for thousands of years and now it's wrong. who says that? i mean honestly
A: thinging...since when was that a verb???
T: it's so funny.
A: the cliche is that things are always changing, but you can't really reject that.
it comes in circles
T: what i reject is our language as a way to describe what's in my head. it simply doesn't work.
A: so what's the solution
T: i'm restricted to these silly words like silly.
A: hahaha
T: i'm living in a prison of culture.
A: but you can make these words mean what you mean
A: you can make "reasonable" mean what you want it to
T: i will leave you with this nick drake song.
A: and i'll leave you with that idea that the people who really understand you understand what you mean by the words you say...not what the dictionary defines them as, but what you mean them
T: but you will not understand what i mean because they mean different things in different contexts.
A: and each day it changes and i can only take a survey
T: i cannot transfer my thoughts to you. simply cannot be done.
A: i agree.
A: unfortunately
A: but that's the way life is...you cant' dwell on this as a miscommunication
⋯
12:35 AM
T: something must be done.
Monday, September 1, 2008
Julian photos August 2008
I didn't realize what a busy month it had been until I flipped through all the photos from the past four weeks. Between hanging out on the potty and eating barbecue, Julian has had a couple of trips to the library, a weekend with Erin in Houston, a run-in with the sofa (thus the scabby lip) and a camping trip with Corey this weekend to Enchanted Rock, west of Austin in the Hill Country.
When we were huffing it around Enchanted Rock, I realized that the last time Julian and I had been to the top of that giant granite rock was when I was about seven months pregnant. It was also his first camping trip as an interactive toddler, but I think he's more work at home than he is in the wide outdoors. Too much to explore. I guess that's why we all get out in the woods every now and then.
Update: I've started making many of my photos on Flickr viewable for only friends. So, if you can only see a handful of pictures in this slideshow and would like to be able to see more, make me a friend/contact on Flickr. You'll have to set up a Flickr account if you don't have one. Sorry for the inconvenience!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
