I decided splitting my posts about Austin into two parts—one talking about the trip, the other about the GFFA Fest—would be easier for everyone and less lengthy.
The title has 2016 in it, because we’ll likely go next year…I mean, I was supposed to go last year.
You know how I like to pack under pressure? I definitely got to do that.
- I awoke;
- did the one load of laundry I needed;
- went to the store for necessities since I was low:
- body wash
- Ricola drops (they’re the only soy-free throat drops I know of; plus I like them…I’m a Ricola-for-lifer)
- shampoo (almost got conditioner…ugh)
- SunButter (’twas $4.98 with my dollar off coupon; it’s usually $8-10),
- 2 avocados, and
- bean dip
- made oatmeal cookies from Ardenne Farm using 1/2 cup pureed avocado (one avocado) instead of butter, so I could make them allergy-free;
- helped Grandmama, who wasn’t feeling well;
- packed my bags;
- picked up my room a bit (mostly the stuff off the floor; I was tired);
- went with Charlise to see her surrobabe (…and the daddies, but if either of you are reading this, letzbereal: the baby’s the star1), then went to Walmart for snacks (we should have went in with a plan…);
- got back home;
- ate; and
- tried to go to bed.
I wound up having to read myself tired. When I’m tired, reading makes me more tired, so…it works…especially when it is freezing cold.
I also went to the bank today. The teller looked at my deposit form date and was like, “Okay…I’m…I’m just adding to this one to make it a four.”
THAT WAS WHY THE DATE LOOKED WRONG.
I’d looked at that date at least ten times.
January…oh, my gosh. o.-
I know I have PTSD, but geez. I’m better than that.
I awoke a little after six in the morning. I hadn’t slept well because I was freezing, and blankets only do so much. I was officially functioning on less than 2.5 hours of sleep, but more than 2 hours of sleep. Charlise was gonna drive over and pick me up around 7am, but we wound up not leaving until an hour later.
I get the munchies during car rides…and anytime, really. I guess it’s because I don’t usually eat a full meal in one sitting; instead, I eat a little at a time throughout the day—so it seems like I’m eating all this food day long, but if you rounded up everything, it would definitely not be as much as someone might expect. I’m working on eating more daily; it’s just…a process.
A blogger who wants to blog about more food is trying to recover from approximately her hundredth eating disorder relapse…it’s a process.
On the way there, Flo Rida’s song, “My House”, played continuously across several radio stations. We heard it at least 1-2 times per hour, and we had to switch radio stations throughout the trip because we were going into different radio station territory.
Every time I joked around and called Waco (WAY-coh) “Wacko”, Charlise laughed. I also pronounced it the same way to Grandmama. I guess not everyone has heard about Waco in that way.
“It’s way-coh,” she corrected.
“Both work, actually,” I insisted.
I honestly feared she might tell me Nacogdoches was not pronounced NAK-uh-DOH-shiss. ?
We arrived about an hour into the show, which…I’ll explain in the next post.
On our way back to the parking garage, I stopped to take a picture of the “Long Live Art in Austin” mural at a corner. I really admired how artsy Austin is; in Dallas, we have graffiti murals, but they’re usually there illegally—and they’re dirty and often underappreciated. Austin really has a lot of that going on, and I miss it already. It’s such a communal place; they have recycling, trash and compost bins and barely any littering—I was constantly amazed at how clean the streets and sidewalks were.
Austin makes Dallas look bad, which is really sad. The air was also easier to breathe in in Austin, whereas Dallas’ is more polluted. Austin’s a lot more greener. I like that. I want that to happen in Dallas.
Like, the photos I take of the metroplex in which I live are not typically of Dallas in the raw; solar panels are a rare sight.
In the elevator on the way up to the fifth floor, two guys got off at the second floor or so. Out of habit, I chimed, “Wear seat belts!” One of them looked to the side as if he was going to look back, but then continued walking. They probably thought I was crazy, but that’s okay. :p
When we made it back to the van, Charlise started pumping, and I decided to just sort of change into more comfortable travel clothes: [old] white American Eagle booty shorts, no bra, and my turquoise “Hakuna Matata” crop top. It has a wide neck and can hang on the side to expose my shoulder, to give you a visual. Since I almost have zero boobs, I love clothes that allow me to get away with not wearing a bra, especially when I find them so overloaded with sensory. >.< I decided to change from my pants into the shorts in the van. On the way there, I’d changed from my red pajama pants and into my grey “ROCK” sweats at a rest stop [in the van].
It’s not like I’ll ever see any of those people again, had anyone seen me to begin with…or if they were cameras, eh. I just don’t care. I grew up on my mom’s side of the family. It’s surprising I shut the door when I use the restroom and didn’t totally strip in the parking lot completely. I dislike those “it could be worse” lines, but…I feel like this circumstance is an exception: I could have done worse.
At least I didn’t expect someone else to change me or anything; at the hotel that morning, there were two women together. Of the two, one stopped Charlise and I before we headed back to our rooms with our breakfast; she wanted to know how the breakfast counter worked. Charlise explained how to make the waffles, and I explained that the one closest to the sink worked better [the other Texas-shaped waffle maker was acting weird].
She wound up cutting me off mid-sentence. “So we’re supposed to make our own? No, no, no—I mean, like, where’s the menu?”
…because hotels got more expensive and others we wanted were unavailable, we stayed at an inexpensive one with free breakfast—the criteria for the hotel search site (can’t remember the name) was “free breakfast and wifi”. This wasn’t an expensive bloody hotel. It also wasn’t like they were asking for an arm and a leg; you can’t make your own breakfast?
Anyways, once Charlise finished pumping—she didn’t want to expose herself to some guy at the parking garage’s ticket window—we were on our way.
Traffic was terrible; people kept stopping, then going, then stopping again. Eventually, we learned people just didn’t, for some reason, know how to drive on a highway with two lanes instead of three. Charlise stopped at a Starbucks for a drink, and I used the restroom. It was then that I realised my short shorts were probably not the best to wear into places, especially if I hadn’t shaved my legs (they weren’t bad, but it felt weird). Of course, I’ll likely never see those people again. I barely remember their faces. “I’m not changing for these people,” I told Charlise. “I’m not changing for these people” and “I’ll likely never see them again” are actually two sentences I said a lot throughout the trip. :p
After some time on the road again, we met traffic. We also drove right into some county that consisted of mostly country music, which sucked, and one oldies station—think older than I Love Lucy. It felt like we were listening to really old movies.
I decided to prepare the camera, because Char wanted a picture of it. In the midst of getting it ready, however, I noticed how well her camera captures the textures of things.
Finally, we found the source of the traffic: a truck had caught fire. I don’t know what happened, but it was really smoky. On the way to Austin, a car had been flipped over. I tried to get a shot of the vehicle on fire, but I missed. You can see a little of the smoke, though!
Sometime later, I decided to play with her camera a little more. Look. Texture. I don’t know what kind of lens/camera she has exactly, but I didn’t know it could ever be so easily obtainable. I want something like this. I can only imagine how it behaves around plants!
Whereas it took us about three-and-a-half hours to make it to Austin, we took about four hours to make it back to Garland.
I took a picture of Downtown Dallas. It’s not a perfect one, like a lot of photos of Dallas’ skyscrapers are, but it works for now.
- Of course, I do hope the getting-a-cold one of you is better and all that jazz. ↩