It goes without saying that I have been a neglectful blogger these past weeks. Suddenly summer is here and I have been confronted with more opportunities than I know what to do with. If there is one thing I am thankful for it is the blessing of too many friends and a high threshold for fun. But of course, that is not the only thing to be thankful for. Have I ever mentioned that I have a roof terrace?
But the terrace is more than a great view. It also is home to a small but fruitful roof garden. In the past few weeks, my tomatoes have peaked and I have been enjoying them and the fresh herbs and occasionally a gerbera daisy or two.
In no particular order, here are a few samplings of what I've been caught up with since late May.
KICKBALL
Every Sunday afternoon my friends and I have been gathering at San Pedro Park just a few blocks from where I live. We bring snacks, refreshing drinks, water balloons, bubbles, hula-hoops, Frisbees and of course the mighty red kickball – all of which instigates more summertime fun than you can usually handle on a Sunday afternoon.
What I love about kickball is that it's not to be taken too seriously. I'm not a remarkable athlete in any way, but as my friend and kickball commandeer Melissa explained, "I have the most intimidating scowl," which apparently is all you need.
Every week we choose new teams and pick names for them like Team Blood or Team Awesome or Team Apathy or Team High-five Pandas. We don't keep score and half the time we don't even abide by rules and generally leave our code of ethics at home unless we attract local kids. I usually designate the team captains, which hopefully ensures that I won't get picked last!
HAMILTON POOL
Last Sunday our kickball group opted to wake up early and take a fieldtrip to Hamilton Pool about 30 miles west of Austin (1 ½ hours away).
Hamilton pool is a magical place – a streambed collapsed in on itself creating a crescent-shaped limestone shelf which naturally created an opportunity to allow the stream to cascade into the basin and pour out the other end. From there, the stream meanders a mile and a half through the most beautiful cypress-infused riparian ecosystem I've ever seen until it meets a larger river that forms a boundary of the state park.
Our group sprawled out over the rocks that once formed the ceiling of the collapsed shelf – a chilling thought. If you look closely enough you can point out our mascot (the kickball) wearing a hat.
The water was a tad frigid, but warmed up once you started moving around. We swam over to the rocks beneath the cascading water and frolicked about.
Chris and Desiree back from a dip and grooming themselves in what looks like a sunglass advertisement. But I swear it was in fact a completely natural photo.
Later, a smaller group of us hiked through the cypress stream to where it met the larger river. It was sunnier there and we basked in the rays of light atop weathered boulders and allowed the current to drag us away.
At 5:30 the park rangers kicked us out of the reserve and we headed to Austin for some much needed vegetarian sustenance. Living in San Antonio, its easy to forget sometimes that ever so slightly to the north is a bastion of attractive hipsters to evoke enough intrigue or scorn (depending who's side you're on) to last you at least a week. On the way back, we rocked out to Queen and Led Zeppelin tapes. Yeah – I said tapes. Remember those?
GO SPURS GO
I've mentioned before (possibly in this post even) that I am not particularly athletic. This is a disposition that leaves me perpetually ambivalent to the world of professional sports.
At least I thought it did. When I first arrived in San Antonio two years and some months ago, the Spurs were all the rage. Well, that's really a misnomer as they are actually all the rage all the time in this town. However, when they are on the precipice of winning a championship title this city goes Spurs crazy. It's unprecedented, really. People wore their jerseys and put multiple flags up in their car windows and basically draped every solid available surface in the city with signs that read Go Spurs Go! Everyone – EVERYONE – is a Spurs fan. It took two years and two championships to realize that everyone implies me, too. It is actually fun to watch, you know this basketball phenomenon. I still have to ask if we are the guys wearing white or black at the beginning of each game, but once we get that straightened out I can follow the ride 'til we win.
The Spurs swept the series against Cleveland and this time 2 weeks ago I found myself in our favorite little homeless bar downtown – the Texas T – when the city erupted into complete and utter mayhem. Despite the fact that it was raining, over 500,000 people drove into downtown with their broomsticks (get it? Cause it was a sweep!) and shoved as many kids as they could fit into their cars and trucks (mostly) and for hours just filled the downtown arteries with one enormous party.
My friends and I danced about between the masses of parked vehicles and at some point just started jumping into stranger's trucks to dance with them and celebrate. It's amazing what you can get away with for a high five and a Go Spurs Go! I probably gave ten times more high fives that night then all the rest of my life combined. That's a lot of high fives…
SHINING BROW 140
June 6th was Frank Lloyd Wright's 140th birthday. "Wait a second there," you might be thinking, "didn't Mr. Wright kick the bucket back in 1959 – just shy of his 92nd birthday?"
Though he, himself, believed God was in the details, I chose instead to ignore silly facts, and had people over revel in his genius anyway.
See – look at how these smiling youngsters take in the presence of the Modern Master of Space. On the other hand, maybe it's the beer.
Either way, we shared the glory of non-traditional Frank Lloyd Wright double chocolate birthday cake which I bought from Central Market. This was in lieu of the traditional birthday cake which combines mountains of yellow cake, raspberry jam, freshly whipped cream, walnuts, and chocolate drizzle. Shhhhhh, don't tell anyone.
Everyone agreed that the chocolate was the way to go, anyway.
Then we sat around the Frank Lloyd Wright shrine (seen here left of Vicki) and discussed all the ways in which FLLW enriched our existence including but not limited to contour farming, Lincoln Logs, desert masonry, drive thrus, carports, and spelling Nature with a capitol N. Cheers to the mitered glass!
DAD
This past weekend, my dad made his first trip to San Antonio, which was a lifelong dream of his since watching the Davy Crockett show of his youth. (Davy Crockett for those of you unaware as I once was prior to moving here, had been one of the heroes who perished at the Alamo. The Alamo is in San Antonio – right downtown). We went on a lot of little adventures, but the highlight of his trip was taking him to see Ben Folds open for John Mayer at the AT&T Center.
I absolutely adore Ben Folds, but I have to say that seeing him perform this venue was not ideal. Many of his efforts to involve the audience in his songs were completely lost on the John Mayer fans that (for the most part) filled the arena. But regardless, it was so great to finally see him live and play a few of my all-time favorites. Even though he was OPENING for John Mayer!
I made a joke recently to my friends that Jason Mraz (another singer-songwriter of my generation) was a third rate John Mayer. Which was really a knock at John Mayer, being that even John Mayer is a second rate John Mayer. I'm so glad he proved me wrong. John Mayer proved to be quite the capable guitar player. In fact, he is rather gifted. And he has such a mellifluous voice and lyrics that speak to you. I'll even go as far as to say that he is a first rate John Mayer.
Sally-Mander
Last but not least, about a month ago my dearest friend Julie went off again, finishing what she started back during the summer of 2005 when she hiked from North Georgia all the way to about 30 miles west of New York City, mostly by her lonesome. That was over 1300 miles of pure Appalachian Trail. Now, she's hiking from NYC to Northern Maine, which is said to be the hardest part of that great American journey.
Julie and I usually talk on the phone at least every other day so I really have to keep myself busy to distract myself from how inaccessible she is to me right now. We write each other letters, but there is a 3-4 week delay in reaction of our experiences. Every once and a while I call up her voicemail just to hear her voice, which I admit might be a little obsessive, but it makes me feel better. It's a hard balance to support a friend in the life dream of hers, all the while cognizant that as a single woman (though tough as hell), faces a lot of dangers out there in the wilderness. I'm trying not to think about those, and choose instead to remember things like the tradition of appalacian trail hikers to go nude on the Summer Solstice, which was just the other day.
Hikers use aliases – her last one was "Ivy" (as in poison ivy), but this time she's opted to go with "Sally. Sally Mander." Lets wish her the best.
nice lenghty round up post
when's the next kickball weekend
or pool event
i'll wear blue next time
lots of red shirts that day
Posted by: dorian sky | July 16, 2007 at 01:13 AM
oh hey, thanks for the well wishing. I didnt read it til now, as I review all of your blogs from the last several months! Im glad to be back, and back in touch!
Posted by: JULIE | August 20, 2007 at 05:27 PM
oh hey, thanks for the well wishing. I didnt read it til now, as I review all of your blogs from the last several months! Im glad to be back, and back in touch!
Posted by: JULIE | August 20, 2007 at 05:27 PM