Author Archives: KKMcClean

About KKMcClean

I am a retired homemaker and mother to three grown children. My hubby, McGator, is a retired accountant and together, we are launching our quest to squeeze the most zest out of life as unencumbered baby boomers. Well, almost unencumbered. Our beloved dog Pepper is still hanging out with us after 14 years, but we have amazing neighbors who keep a close on her whenever we travel. Otherwise, she is still pretty happy to ride along with us on road trips to destinations that welcome furry companions.

Big Bambu at Houston Museum of Fine Arts

The Big Bambu at the Museum of Fine Arts

Welcome to the jungle!  That is, the bamboo jungle that has sprouted in the Culinan Hall at the Museum of Fine Arts. Brought to life by twin artists Mike and Doug Starn, this behemoth tangle of 3000  bamboo poles lashed together with colorful cord is the latest interactive art installation that enticed me into the Downtown Houston Museum District from my cozy suburb. But first, I would have to battle through the nightmare jungle of cars, traffic cones and lane closures that have frustratingly defined travelling into the city of Houston for many years. It is the single biggest deterrent to venturing downtown and taking advantage of all the amazing cultural diversions Houston has to offer. I’ve learned a few tricks to conquer the anxiety of entering the freeway jungle: I accept my excursion might take all day, so I leave early with a full tank of gas, a cool bottle of water in the cup holder, set my GPS before leaving the driveway, turn on the friendly music of The Bridge Sirius radio station, and blast my Derriere-Conditioner so I stay cool from the bottom up while barreling past through the ever present columns of 18 wheelers.

Staying Connected With Girls’ Afternoon Out

I usually take a buddy along. I have not yet mastered the art of venturing out solo, and this Saturday I was meeting Shooney at her place before proceeding together to the MFA. These museum jaunts have turned into “our thing”. Ever since she first invited to view Kusama’s Infinity Rooms, I have treasured these museum forays as a very pleasurable way to stay connected to my grown up daughter. Shooney took over the driving from this point, and I had no regrets about not taking time to exercise that morning. By the time she had zipped us on and  the freeway, swerved around hapless drivers converging the wrong way down one way streets, and swooped into the underground parking garage, I was breathless and my heart rate was quite elevated. I was so happy to have finally arrived at our destination.

Big Bambu: This Thing Called Life

We walked past the stacks of reserved 52 foot long bamboo poles at the museum entrance and up the short stair case to the entrance of Big Bambu: This Thing Called Life. We were asked to sign a waiver of liability, issued red ticket bracelets,  and allowed to check our purses into canvas cubby drawers before entering the exhibit. From floor of the Culinan Hall, the forest of bamboo towered for two stories over our heads and  appeared to be a criss crossed jumble of

A criss-crossed jumble of scaffolding come to life

scaffolding gone berserk. We slowly walked around the perimeter before the docent encouraged us to walk through the jungled mass of poles being careful, however,  “not to shake the bamboo”. We circled gingerly in and around bamboo columns of various sizes as colorful cord lashings trailed across our foreheads until we came upon a narrow ramp leading up through the jungle. The docent explained the ramp was actually the exit, and in order to climb inside the structure we would have to leave the first floor and enter it through the second floor balcony of the Brown Pavilion where our red bracelets would guarantee us admission.

The line was not long to enter the bamboo, but we were allowed in one by one  at a measured pace, and instructed to walk with our feet splayed outwards in order to grip the rounded planks more easily. I admit my legs were shaking a little as I crossed over the bridge suspended two floors up over marble floor. What had seemed so imposing from the ground now had the potential to crumble under my feet like a pile of so many toothpicks. Our path wound gracefully down through the myriad of branches and colorful joints of cord securing our safety. The echoes of children laughing and scampering through the  columns below  wafted up and I  marveled at how well they were heeding the admonishments not to shake the bamboo. I continue to be impressed at the family friendly tone of these interactive structures exhibited at the Museum of Fine Art, and appreciate how joyful an experience it always seems to be for the children who come.

An Organic Representation of Life’s Journey

Our exit at the bottom was anticlimactic. It brought to mind the June 10, 2018 article in the Houston Chronicle I had read with great interest a few weeks before by Molly Glentzer, “Building Bridges”. She described, with great insight, not only the artists, but their motivation and what they hoped to portray with this giant work of art. Not being an expert in any way, I like to be told what the artist was thinking and then compare my impressions to see if I came any where close.

The organic path representing life’s journey through obstacles

My takeaway was that the artists were hoping to convey that life is complex and unpredictable, and that we are all connected and influenced by the world and others in some way. In the process of growing and evolving, ” …sometimes it’s an obstacle, sometimes it’s a step. These are things we maneuver through, all the time, every day.”  This was particularly resonant to me when I considered all the obstacles I encountered escaping the suburbs just to come downtown and see this darned thing. After being enlightened, I could totally see how The Big Bambu was a fine representation the Starks’ sage observation about life, but I have to admit, I would not have come to that conclusion by myself.

 

Interpretation is in the Eye of the Beholder

My own impression, was, sadly but not surprising to say, not quite that urbane. It was difficult to understand what I was looking at standing so close on the bottom floor of the hall, so before we entered the Big Bambu on the second floor, I walked further down the balcony to get a better view of its entirety. From a distance, its silhouette looked like a giant horned beetle facing the balcony, with its mouth opened and the people walking bravely across its jaw. (Shooney thought it was a porcupine) Either way, it dawned on me that, continuing down the path  in the spirit of my impression implied we were making our way through the creature’s bowels before unceremoniously exiting at its bottom. I was a little crestfallen that I was so far off the mark, but then realized, isn’t that what art is supposed to do anyway? Invite discussion, regardless of how unsophisticated?  And it got me to thinking: I wonder how my perception would have changed if we had entered from the ground floor and climbed to the top?

 

 

BLVD Seafood Restaurant in Galveston

Paging through Yelp for a spot to lunch  that would afford us a view of the Tall Ships Parade of Sail across Galveston Bay recently, McGator and I  settled on the 4 Star rated BLVD Seafood located at 28th Street and Seawall. The small parking lot was full, so we circled behind the restaurant on Avenue R in the rear and found a shady spot 2 blocks away. If you are willing to hunt and don’t mind short walks, publicly available street parking can almost always be found around the attractions in Galveston.

Our table had a clear view of the Parade of Sail

We worried a little that the crowd of spectators who were lining the seawall anticipating the arrival of the tall ships were a sign there would be no room at the restaurant. Miraculously, we were seated immediately at a table by the broad glass front with a perfect view of  Galveston Bay.

Perusing the Lunch Menu

The lunch menu at BLVD Seafood is  simple but not boring. We were offered a choice between sliders or tacos, and the fillings followed a blueprint of protein + sauce + greenness. Whether your tastes are  bland or spicy, homestyle or exotic, healthy or indulgent, surf, turf or garden, there is a choice for you. I appreciated that the sliders came in lots of 2 or 3, and were priced reasonably from $6-$12, depending on number and filling. The tacos cost a little more, ranging from $11-$15.  I was pleasantly surprised to see soft shelled crab as a choice, one of my favorite delicacies that is usually missing from Galveston menus.

I happily ordered the soft shell tacos and McGator chose shrimp sliders. As the waiter disappeared into the kitchen with our order, we were delighted to see a tall ship sail majestically into view. It was pretty spectacular; the wind had picked up, so the sails were full and the stately ship rolled gracefully up and over the waves.

Soft Shelled Crab and Shrimp

My trio of soft shelled crabs arrived nestled in flour tortillas and accompanied by hot and crisp seasoned skinny fries. My crab was tender and juicy, lightly coated with a soft crunch of batter and brightened with a perfect  drizzle of red pepper sauce. It appeared that the chef had called an audible and replaced the menu prescribed coleslaw with baby greens, but I approved the substitution. I actually prefer their sweetness over the bitter tang of raw cabbage. McGator approved of his  shrimp sliders, but felt undernourished even after ordering the maximum number of three and finishing off both of our sides of fries.

Impressive Bay View

McGator scarfed down two thirds of his sliders in two bites

As we munched on our food and watched the breath-taking parade of tall ships and their flotilla of welcoming sailboats navigate the choppy bay, I couldn’t help feeling relieved that the tickets to participate in a sail aboard one of those majestic vessels had all been sold out when I tried to purchase then earlier that spring. Not being a sailor, I knew I would most likely be bent over the rail in a fit of seasickness. Instead, I was firmly planted in my prime seat at BLVD Seafood relishing my soft shelled tacos and knowing they would be staying put.

 

Pipilotti Rist at the Houston Museum of Fine Arts

A link on Facebook caught my eye the other day: the interactive art installations  “Pixel Forest” and “Worry Will Vanish” by Swiss artist Pipilotti Rist was showing at the Houston Museum of Fine Arts. I messaged Shooney and invited her to go with me, so we met up on a sunny Saturday morning and drove over to the Museum District.

An interactive installation

I struggled with what to call this type of artistic display. “Exhibit” did not begin to describe the movement  and  “experience”  fell short of evoking the size. I skimmed over the museum literature and learned something new: these larger-than-life artistic spectacles are referred to as installations. According to my go-to answer lifeline, Wikipedia, this genre is defined as “3-D works that are often site- specific and designed to transform the perception of space”. The Pixel Forest encouraged us to participate with the elements of the installation, and so therefore was considered an interactive installation.  The Pixel Forest and Worry Will Vanish were actually two installations playing off each other and occupying the same space, transforming  Cullinan Hall gallery into a hypnotic, dream like world.

Pixel Forest

The Pixel Forest

We entered a dark,swaying forest of suspended ropes of LED lights winking with a soft pastel glow. This was the “Pixel Forest”. It reminded me a little of images I have seen of Sargassum Weed floating in the ocean, but much prettier. We were encouraged to weave slowly through the lighted strands which pulsed to a hypnotic soundtrack playing all around us. “What a great introduction to art!”, I thought, as I watched several children dart nimbly through the lighted forest,  never touching or yanking on the suspended lights. Flickering images  projected on the corner walls beyond the light forest beckoned to me, and I made my way towards their cosmic glow.

Worries Will Vanish

Reclining on the bean bags to watch film

We emerged form the Pixel Forest and found ourselves standing on the edge of a carpeted expanse of floor dotted with numerous beanbag chairs. It seemed we were  to recline on the cushions and gaze up at the film, letting the music wash over us. All of the spots were occupied, so we posed casually at attention with a dozen other hopefuls while covertly scanning the space for an empty cushion. Suddenly, as gracefully and dignified as the situation demanded, Shooney began to race-walk a robust elderly woman towards an unoccupied seat. I was relieved to see Shooney yield the floor to her senior, but not before taking up a protective post a few feet away, ready to pounce when the opportunity struck. Eventually, she was able to take possession of the bean bag, and waved me over to settle back and allow our worries to vanish.

Worth the Drive

The film made me feel like a was a particle on a grand voyage through the universe. I recognized the translucent insides of a hand and fingers as I vicariously whooshed through the human body. Just as I was uncomfortably wondering what organ I was passing through, I suddenly  began to float through a garden, sailing by leaves and flower petals. The feeling of peace gave way to disturbing voyeurism as the vignette morphed into a nude torso of a woman jumping up and down in slow motion. “Whoa! Should kids be seeing this?” I thought. I appreciatively noticed not a single child was snorting and pointing at the naked lady as I was expecting. I’m not sure all of my worries vanished while I interacted with this particular installation,  but I enjoyed experiencing and talking about it with my millennial daughter. The cheerful and polite participation of all the young visitors inspired me to bring my own grandkids next time.

 

Frio Hill Country Grill

 

I talked McGator into trying a new place for lunch today. It’s not easy to do: he likes his regular neighborhood haunts where the waitresses know what he is going to order before he even sits down and indulge him by  stepping and fetching fast enough to keep his tea glass filled to the brim. He is a very confident and pleasant man, but for some reason, the thought of initiating  restaurant staff and breaking in a new booth makes him a little testy.

  • McGator (turning on engine): Where is this place? How far am I going to have to drive?
  • Me (pulling me directions up on Yelp): It’s just around the corner. 5 minutes, tops. Just go down Mueschke.
  • McGator: Which way down Mueschke? I need to know which way to turn once I get there.
  • Me (still waiting for the little swirly on my I-screen to stop revolving and give me directions)We’re not even out of the driveway yet. It’s at least 5 turns from here, and you know the way. Don’t worry;  I’ll let you know when it’s time.
  • Mcgator (pulling out of cult-de-sac) Ok, it’s time. Which way am I gonna turn on Mueschke?
  • Me (intermittently  watching swirly): Ok, stop. You know I can’t read in the car. I will get you there. I just need to pace myself before this swirly makes me car sick. Or hypnotizes me.

    Frio Grill, 16410 Mueschke Rd, Cypress, TX 77433

     

    We arrived at Frio Hill Country Grill in less than 15 minutes, and were very surprised to see it sitting in a neatly groomed field in full view of the road. We had driven by it hundreds of times , not realizing it had been hiding behind some overgrown shrubbery for the last 100 years, where it was built as a ranch house  way back in 1907 before being reborn as a  restaurant. I was about to point out there was plenty of parking in the back  when McGator suddenly swerved to squeeze into the last available space in the front lot. A low hanging branch screeched across the roof of his brand new truck he purchased five years ago, and he shot me an accusing look. Sigh. Like that was my fault.

Okra Planks

McGator forgot about the tree branch as we approached the shaded picnic tables on the inviting outdoor patio  studded with corn hole and horse shoe pits. “This would be a nice place to bring the grandkids,” he conceded. We opted to sit inside since  there was a chill in the breeze,  and the hostess led us to a high table by a window in the main dining room. The view of the neighboring cattle serenely grazing in the sun complimented the pleasantly spare and rustic décor.

The menu had some enticing entrées, but I decided to stay light for lunch and settled on  the chicken tortilla soup with an order of the okra planks to share with McGator. The okra weren’t bad;  dusted with cornmeal and lightly fried (is that really possible, or am I indulging myself) with an accompaniment of creamy Tabasco sauce, I decided they counted as my green veggie for the day. I especially appreciated that they had not been dredged in salt and pronounced them healthily seasoned, but McGator went on a search for some salt and pepper shakers which were conspicuously missing from the entire dining area.

 

Chicken Tortilla Soup

My soup had nice flavor with  lots of chunky chicken floating in the cascabel chili infused broth. The menu promised the inclusion of fresh avocado pieces, but instead of mingling with the carrots and corn as I expected,  I found a single anorexic slice languishing on the rim of my bowl.

 

Mcgator went healthy and ordered a portion of nicely cooked and flavorful Mango and Citrus Flame Grilled Mahi Mahi, drizzled with a delicious mango chutney. He pronounced the mahi mahi worthy of ordering again, but remained non committal on the French fries. We both decided our included slices of garlic bread were too limp and soggy to be worth the calories, and left them partially eaten.

Mango and Citrus Flame Grilled Mahi Mahi

 

We treated ourselves to a shared scoop of the prickly pear sorbet, presented with a tumbling mix of berries. It was light and refreshing with a delicate flavor I could not place, so assumed it must be the essence of prickly pear.

We left thinking that the Frio Hill Country Grill was a nice addition to the local restaurant scene. Our meal was good, and we felt encouraged to come back and try some of the other items listed on the menu that was varied enough to satisfy  meat lovers and health nuts to traditionalists and foodies alike.

 

MD Anderson: A Beehive of Wonder and Hope

Mays Clinic at MD Anderson

Mays Clinic at MD Anderson

 

It had scarcely been two years since McGator had brought his mother, Freda home to live with us while seeking treatment for her  lymphoma at MD Anderson, and we found ourselves in a numbed and disbelieving state of déjà vue, as we started the process over with my mother. Freda’s story had not ended well; after successfully completing a week and a half of testing and evaluation, she suffered a massive stroke the night before her first round of chemo was scheduled. Unable to eat, drink, or communicate, she lay in an agitated, semi-vegetative state while McGator, his brothers, and our family took turns sitting at her bedside until she  passed away under hospice care eleven days later. It was a nightmare our family had barely recovered from, and yet, there we were, entering into Cancer Wars  2.0, the Melanoma Menace. It was difficult to feel hopeful, as Mom had been diagnosed with a new 4-inch tumor on her kidney and was referred to MD Anderson by her oncologist as a last resort.

The feelings of trepidation and helplessness faded as we made our into the heart of Houston’s world class Medical Center. Bastions in Texas pink granite, the many buildings that make up MD Anderson line several blocks of Holcombe Boulevard: The Mays Clinic. The Cancer Prevention Center. The Nursing Center. The T. Boone Pickens Academic Tower. Finally, turning onto MD Anderson Boulevard, three lines  of traffic stream under the portico of the MD Anderson Cancer Center efficiently directed  by a battalion of cheerful valets . We  arrived at the first stop of Mom’s cancer battle understanding she  had a well equipped force of awesome proportions on her side.

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Creating and maintaining an can-do atmosphere of cheerful confidence  is as important to the culture of MD Anderson as their mission to fight and eradicate cancer in all of its ugly forms. Like a hive full of bees, MD Anderson hums with energy, efficiency, and positive purpose unlike any institution or corporation we have ever dealt with. They are committed to guiding their patients and families through the frightening ordeal of cancer treatment with as much compassion, helpfulness, and thoughtfulness as possible, and this attitude permeates through every pore of every worker in every building, from the janitors to the most illustrious doctors. Our first introduction to this marvelous philosophy was with the valets. They were stationed outside the entrance from the wee hours in the morning to well after midnight, in all kinds of weather. We noticed that regardless of the vehicle people arrived in,  the valets were constantly jumping to open the doors of taxis, buses, and private cars, offering helping hands, kind greetings, and directions to all passengers, whether they were self parking or taking advantage of the valet parking service. They ran to bring us a wheelchair from the inventory lining the drive, then neatly folded  and pushed it back to standby readiness when we were done at the  end of the day. They took great pride in their work, and it showed.

Once inside, my first impression of MD Anderson was that it was so huge and swarming with people that I would never find my way around. Miraculously and unfailingly, whenever I felt disoriented or frustrated, a person would invariably stop and ask how they could direct me. On a couple of occasions during peak hours when I had a tough time finding room in an elevator for both me and my mom’s wheelchair, a white coated doctor would step out and offer us their spot. One time, with nothing better to do while waiting for one of my mother’s infusions to run its course, I amused myself by walking the labyrinths of hallways, occasionally stopping on purpose with a puzzled look on my face, and sure enough, a kindly administrator, doctor or maintenance engineer would pop out of nowhere to offer assistance.IMG_4821

The halls of the massive complex were quite easy to navigate. Every bank of elevators was assigned a letter, and despite its clinical function, the building’s atmosphere was softened with many pleasant seating areas with distinctive architectural features that also served as landmarks: the sundial, the arbor, the tree sculpture, the art gallery celebrating colorful works by young patients from all over the globe. The buildings are conveniently  connected by a sky walk. For those not capable or not in the mood to make a brisk walk between buildings, a couple of electric carts are constantly ferrying patients back and forth.

My mother’s visits settled into a routine. She was  approved to receive infusions of Keytruda, a new immunotherapy drug that had just been approved by the FDA. The monthly infusions lasted about 30 minutes, and unlike the dreadful Yervoy she had been taking over the summer, did not appear to cause many side effects. Her appointments would magically appear  through the MD Anderson app which not only advised us of the time and procedure, but reminded us of the floor and elevator bank providing closest access to whatever office was on the schedule at that time. Every three weeks or so, McGator would load the three of us in his pickup and chauffeur us down through 40 miles of our congested freeway system, most of which was torn up with construction. We would spend most of the day pushing Mom back and forth between the labs and up to the Melanoma Center, where her kind and caring Dr. Hwu would evaluate Mom’s progress before approving and ordering her next infusion of treatment. We would return home quite exhausted, but thankful to have access and good fortune to be able to bring Mom to such an amazing place.

 

Quest to Spring Training in Goodyear, Arizona

Mom’s melanoma treatment was showing positive results, so taking advantage of the moment, we left her in Shooney’s care and headed out to Goodyear, Arizona to visit Juniper and Big B during Spring Training. We relished the anticipation of visiting our family, witnessing Big B live his dream, and exploring a new town. The trip was looking like a home run before we even touched down at Sky Harbor Airport in Phoenix.

Goodyear Ballpark is home to the Cleveland Indians and Cincinnati Reds

Goodyear Ballpark is home to the Cleveland Indians and Cincinnati Reds

I always imagined spring training as a casual event  where laid back teams of grown men participated in pick-up baseball games on diamonds set within chain link fences and studded with simple aluminum bleachers. How surprising to find instead, a mini stadium  outfitted with all the requisite fold-up arm-chair seating, concessions, and fan fare to please 10,000  fans. I was astonished to learn that Phoenix and its environs were home to ten of such  complexes.

Goodyear Ballpark

The Goodyear Ballpark is fairly new, having been opened  in 2009. It is shared by the Cleveland Indians and Cincinnati Reds, and so includes all the offices, practice fields, and amenities needed to support each team. Studded with palm trees and stadium lights, the sprawling campus rises out of the Sonoran dessert and is guarded at the entrance by a tall, white, oddly shaped sentinel festooned with red lacing circling its swollen mid section. We had trouble interpreting its meaning, and Big B was not much help: provenance of the stadium adornment was understandably not on his radar, so he was unable to offer any insight. The gift shop clerk confidently informed us that the monument represented the compressed shape of a baseball when it comes into perfect contact with a bat. Hmmm. I was doubtful. I suspected that nobody wanted to admit it was really a phallic symbol paying homage to a time honored, manly pastime where big sticks and balls played pivotal rolls.

The monument at entrance to Goodyear Ballpark

The Ziz stands sentinel at the entrance to Goodyear Ballpark

Loaded down with t-shirts and bottles of official ballpark mustard, we headed home to put McGator and Lil’ B down for their naps. I was still curious about the origin of the ballpark monument, and spent the afternoon Googling its mystery.

The Ziz

Prized as a work of art by the city of Goodyear, the sculpture was created from fiber glass and concrete by renowned sculptor  David Lipski, and dubbed “The Ziz” after a giant, mythical bird found in Hebrew folklore. It’s height of 60’6″ reflects the exact distance from home plate to the  pitcher’s mound. It’s shape was inspired by a series of works  created by  Romanian sculptor Constantine Brancusi in 1923 entitled “Bird in Space”. Brancusi’s vision was to create the elongated  body of a bird in motion, without wings or feathers, and Lipski chose to pay tribute to the Romanian artist by recreating that silhouette for The Ziz. The theme of flight is a nod to Goodyear’s key role in aviation. The city began as humble cotton fields planted by the Goodyear Tire Company to provide the component fibers needed to produce the airplane tires outfitting World War II fighter planes.

The Eye of the Beholder

I looked at The Ziz with fresh eyes. The contours of a bird in flight gracefully emerged from

The shape of The Ziz represents the body of a bird in flight

The shape of The Ziz represents the body of a bird in flight

the nonsensical tower that was just standing there,  and I appreciated that more thought went into The Ziz’s creation than what I had originally assumed. What a shame its purpose was not more prominently displayed, so that others might  also be enlightened. I brought the story of The Ziz up at dinner, thinking it would inspire great conversation. My family quickly set me straight:

  • McGator: The wings are the most fascinating part of the bird. Why would you take those off?
  • Juniper: Mom, that’s your take away from Spring Training?
  • Big B: There was a sculpture at the ball park?
  • Shooney: Mom, please stop talking!
  • Bo: Sorry I’m late. What’s up?
  • Big B: do you have a photo of it?
  • Juniper: Mom, do you even remember the game?
  • Shooney: Mom, please don’t re-tell  this story to Bo!
  • Big B: Nobody is thinking about art when they go to the ball park.
  • McGator: I can’t believe that guy took the wings off the bird!
  • Bo: What’s for dinner?

The Zest

Well. That’s what you get when you try to think outside the diamond in a sports loving family. And yes, Juniper, of course I remember the game. It was a beautiful evening, Lil B was gurgling happily on your lap, the stands were full, and Big B, living his dream, strode handsomely to the  mound and pitched against the Seattle Mariners.

FIrst Monday Trade Days in Canton, Texas

Road Trip! Juniper and I stole away for 24 hours and visited Canton, Texas, home of the world’s largest flea market contained in one spot. I had been hearing about Canton for decades, and jumped at the chance to tag along on Juniper’s hunt for eclectic and reasonably priced home décor.

Canton goods display
Canton goods display

 In the morning, we headed out on yet another pastoral route to Canton, puzzled that the world’s largest flea market appeared to be out in the middle of nowhere. Where were all the hotels? Restaurants? Juniper craned her head towards the windshield and around to her driver’s side window, then turned to look at me in shock. “WHERE do these people eat?” she demanded. “Well”, I  answered, “they most likely eat dinner in their kitchens. They use their stoves to cook the food they have foraged at the grocery store and then stored in their refrigerators.” “Hmm”, she mused,  “interesting”. Not being much of a forager or cook, Juniper eats out regularly. She and Big B use their fridge as a staging area for beverages: bottles of craft beers and waters crowd a lone gallon of milk and container of exotically flavored fat free coffee creamer.

We picked a good weekend for our first visit to Canton. It was a cloudy and cold February day, with rain in the forecast. There was no sign of the 200,000 visitors that are reputed to descend upon this small town of 5,000 the first weekend of each month. We easily found parking close to the entrance, wrestled the borrowed wagon down from the truck bed and headed towards the Trade Pavilions with excitement. Juniper had a mapped out all the vendors she was hoping to visit, but we quickly abandoned  her strategic plans as soon as we stepped into the market. Sooo many bright and interesting objects attracted our gaze and splintered our focus. Canton had cast its First Monday Trade Days spell upon us and we were mesmerized. Of course we stopped at the very first shop and partially filled the wagon with bric-a-brac we hadn’t planned to need.

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Treasures are hiding in plain sight at the world’s largest flea market in Canton, Texas

Surprised at how quickly the assemblage of goodies was mounding in our wagon, we shook off the bewitching lure of cute and adorable doo-dads and resolved to stick to the list. Juniper’s needs were  specific, so once again,  we headed for the Pavilions. The large metal buildings housing stalls of vendors seemed a more likely place to find a cache containing the sugar mold and wall mirror Juniper was hunting for.  I was dubious about the old window she was dearly hoping to find, but suggested that later in the afternoon we might swing through the fields of tented folding tables piled with old toys, tools, and  household detritus for that piece of junk. Apparently she wanted to knock out the panes and turn it into some sort of picture frame.

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Balsa wood cutouts were a popular item

We spent the rest of the afternoon happily shopping and checking items off the list. Juniper found her old window immediately, and it seemed to be the last one available for sale, as all the other stacks of windows in the stall bore sold stickers. She snapped it up for $15, and the seller graciously agreed to hold it for the afternoon as it was too unwieldy to fit into the wagon. I was astonished to see that old windows were the prize of the day, since no sooner did Juniper put her money down on the seemingly last available decrepit window in Canton,  than we noticed them popping up all over the place, each paint shredded one looking funkily more desirable than the one she had already purchased.

Our favorite shop was Simplicity on Row 46. You can look it up online at simplicityonrow46.com. It  was an absolute treasure trove of home decor and what Juniper calls “set arounds”. She found her mirror there, and in spite of claiming that I did not need another thing for my house, I caved and bought a large blue earthen vase and a stainless steel segmented hanging fish. We headed back to the truck, because our final purchases were too big for the wagon.

Scooter rental half the fun in Canton

Scooter rental half the fun in Canton

As we crawled through the market rows in our big pick-up truck, we were so grateful that the hover-round scooter traffic was not the nightmare it might have been on a more beautiful day. You see, scooter riding in Canton is on par with the Ferris wheel at the Rodeo! Every row of shops at First Monday Trade Days features at least one scooter rental stall.  Moms and dads each holding a kid in their lap, teenagers, ladies of a certain age loaded down with shopping bags…..all scooting around the market in their big puffy rolling arm chairs. We made a mental note that it would make it easier to bring Nana next time knowing we could hire a scooter. Maybe even lure the husbands with the promise of streaming TV on their iPhones while lounging in their comfy scooters.

It's easier to rent a cart than drag a wagon from home
It’s easier to rent a cart than drag a wagon from home

 

The wagon turned out to be really useful to carry all our smaller purchases, but would have been hard to manoeuver in a crowd. It took up quite a bit of space in the pick up as well. We noticed a lot of people had two-wheeled wire shopping carts complete with colorful cup holders, and it turned out those could be rented for the day at any number of vendors. We made another mental note to leave the wagon at home on our next trip; we had so much fun, we will definitely be back.

 

 

Coming Out of Retirement is a Full Time Job

 

Juniper and Big B rolling Lil 'B to parenting class

Juniper and Big B rolling Lil ‘B to parenting class

Well, a lot has happened since my brief sojourn as an Uptown Girl. Lil’ B was welcomed into this world by  the gathering of both of his birth clans who eagerly and joyfully passed his little bundled self from arm to arm so that all could inspect and confirm that he was blessed with the expected amount of appendages in good working order. Big B was allowed a precious three days away from his baseball team to participate in the birth of his son which he did by cutting the umbilical cord and sleeping overnight on the pull out couch in Juniper’s maternity room so as not to miss a single one of Lil’B’s diaper changes or cuddles.

 

Lil B came home to the townhouse a scant 30 hours after he was born. Juniper allowed herself three days to settle into her new motherhood role, and then summoned the realtor to start showing the townhouse again. The next week was  a blur of feedings, showings,  closet purges, and interviews with movers. Lil B’s nursery was packed up and dispatched to climatized storage with the rest of the family furniture, while he and his mama flew to Ohio to spend a glorious summer following Big B’s baseball team from stadium to stadium.

I came home to catch my breath and regroup. I had been gone so long over winter and spring that I had to be re-introduced to my home and community. Where did I keep my spatulas? Which roads would take me to my hair salon?  There was some cool bric-a-brac in the dining room that I had completely forgotten about, so I patted myself on the back and acknowledged that I really loved what I apparently did to the place. My re-orientation didn’t last long; by mid-summer it was apparent that  Mom’s melanoma infusion therapy was taking a toll and she had fallen into a state of severe exhaustion, so I found myself flying back to Montana. My retirement from homemaking was officially coming to an end with the beginning of my new responsibility  as care giver.

Mom’s Yervoy infusions that were meant to stabilize her existing melanoma were not only unsuccessful, but also failed to prevent the growth of a brand new 4 inch tumor. She was released to hospice care and advised that there might be other treatment available to her at MD Anderson in Houston. I closed Mom’s house up as best I could while McGator made arrangements to have her admitted to MD Anderson. We brought her down to Houston in a fog of numbness and with heavy hearts, for we all believed that she would not survive to see Christmas.

The biggest challenge is making room for everybody's stuff

The biggest challenge is making room for everybody’s stuff

Our empty nest became a multi-aged  assisted living facility  almost overnight. We moved our stuff out of the downstairs master bedroom and settled into our corner of the upstairs. Two other corner bedrooms were occupied by Shooney, who  had moved home from North Carolina, and Bo, who had settled into his new job and was concentrating on personal  asset building. Big B, Juniper, and Lil’ B temporarily squeezed into the fifth bedroom while the finishing touches were being put on their new house. Baseball season was over, and they had come back to Houston for the winter.

McGator and I have put travel plans on hold for awhile, but in exchange we are totally embracing the roles of grandparents while Lil B and his parents are in town for the off season. We babysit regularly, and since Lil’ B’s parents have not advanced their culinary skills much, we have been hosting lots of big family dinners on a regular basis.We missed Bo and Shooney for several years, and now they are back under our noses. We like having them around, and appreciate the positive attention they give their ailing grandmother. Miraculously, Mom’s new Keytruda infusions have been shrinking her tumor and she is slowly regaining strength. We are daring to imagine she will win this battle and are making tentative plans to take her home to visit her house and garden this summer. As harsh as this situation has been for everybody, there could not be a better place to deal with it than within the heart of the family.

 

 

Having a Swirl as an Uptown Girl

Juniper picture window IMG_4078I settled into my temporary home in Juniper’s first floor guest room with relish. The three story Dallas townhouse she and Big B purchased is situated in the neighborhood of Oaklawn, an eclectic mix  of midcentury homes, 60’s era apartments, and newly constructed townhouses. The floor to ceiling picture window in the second floor living room offered a leafy view of the 60 foot pecan tree shading a sidewalk that led to fabulous eating, shopping and entertainment. I was looking forward to living the life of an Uptown Girl almost as much as the birth of my first grandchild.

The townhouse was on the market and subject to frequent last minute showings to prospective buyers, so we were not in the mood to evacuate every last cooking utensil off the counters each day in order to maintain that impersonal hotel staging that realtors love to show off. Our meal prep was limited to throwing together a quick salad or yogurt parfait from the refrigerator staples, so deciding where we would go to dinner was a daily highlight.

Our go-to absolute favorite was Eatzi’s Market and Bakery, around the corner and a quick two block zip down Lemmon Avenue. Eatzi’s motto is “Chef’s Meals for the Taking”, and we certainly took advantage. Sometimes we brought our dinner home to eat, and other times we enjoyed our meals  outdoors sitting at the wrought iron cafe tables on the patio, acting like we were sitting in a French bistro.

Eatzi’s is a feast for all five senses, beginning at the door,  where tantalizingly aromatic tendrils of baking  wrap around you and lead you through the vestibule stacked on one side with puffy white sacks of flour and on the other with  large ovens filled with crusty and golden loaves of bread. Then the swells of opera music pull you through into a  cavern dominated by a large, circular deli case filled with mounds of food attractively displayed on varying heights of platters and bowls. And yes, cavern, because by this time you have forgotten that you are in a non-descript building sitting in the middle of a large city parking lot, and have instead stumbled into a wondrous chamber filled with edible treasure.

The aisle divides and circles around each side of the main deli counter, where chefs decked in traditional toques, white jackets and black checked trousers stand smiling, waiting to serve up whatever dish catches your eye. The aisles are quite narrow, so shoppers find themselves gliding and swirling  past the twice baked potatoes, roasted meats, and salads, gently swinging their shopping baskets around and behind so as not to become entangled with each other. Fresh fruit selections are displayed along the right wall, sandwiched between the pastry and sushi cases. The back wall features assorted sandwiches made with the freshly baked bread, salads, and dips, and an antipasto counter serving up cheeses, meats, and olives.

The left side of Eatzi’s features the made to order sandwich and salad counter, coffee bar, and a grill featuring daily specials whipped up on the spot by more smiling chefs. In between the aisles are shelves stocked with crackers, wines, chips, chocolates, and even fresh flowers.

We sampled our way through many of Eatzi’s entrée choices such as grilled salmon, , or roast chicken, accompanied by various sides of kale, sweet potato, or quinoa salad before eventually settling on favorites: Juniper’s preferred selection was the brisket quesadilla, which we would bring home to heat up on the stove while snacking on pesto hummus and crackers. I frequently opted for an assortment of tapas: olives, cheeses, and dolmas, which I would pair with a selection of crackers and glass of wine. We invariably ended our meal with a scoop of tiramasu or chocolate mousse. Stretching out on the couch in the evenings with our girly foods and watching the neighbors stroll down the sidewalk through the big window was a perfect way to end the day.

Trying on New Roles as Baby Grands in Waiting

View of striped wall and crib in nursery

McGator and I are about to be Baby Grands. Juniper and Big B are expecting a baby boy by the end of the month. We know he is a boy because, thanks to 3D technology, this baby’s gender was positively identified 14 weeks after being the proverbial twinkle in his proud daddy’s eyes. He has never been generically referred to as “the baby”, since he has been fully named ever since Juniper and Big B announced his imminence last Thanksgiving. I wouldn’t be surprised if my highly efficient daughter has already contrived to have a photo id issued using the sonogram portrait, and I suspect Lil’ B might already have a social security number.

We are counting down the last few days to Lil’ B’s birthday, and of course, there are logistical complications. Big B is at extended spring training in Arizona preparing for his return to playing triple A ball with his team in Ohio, while Juniper is sticking close to their home base in Dallas, winding down  work projects in anticipation of her upcoming maternity leave. She and Big B have recently decided to move back to Houston, so they are also juggling the sale of their present home while building a new one just a few minutes down the road from us.

McGator and I drove up a couple of weeks ago to offer support and are poised to escort Juniper to the hospital in time for Lil’ B’s grand entrance into the world. Our first duty as Birth Monitors was to help put the finishing touches on the nursery. No problem, we thought. Big B’s mom had already taken care of the difficult task of painting stripes on the wall, and all we had to do was hang a few decorations. Back in the day, this was  a fairly simple operation. We would trot off to the big box baby store and choose  bedding in appropriately gender neutral colors, and then coordinate it with puffy wall art featuring wide-eyed baby animals floating away on clouds of balloons. We tied giant bumper pads to the crib, tacked the gentle menagerie to the wall, and bam! The nursery was done.

composing collage frame items before installation

We are such nubes. Today there is the internet, home of Pinterest, eBay, Etsy, and all manner of shopping sites that make big box stores look like specs of dust compared to the baby universe of etherspace that goes on for infinity. The nesting urge was elevated to an Olympic fever as Juniper pored over and pinned images of baby paraphernalia onto the imaginary bulletin boards of her laptop. We were amazed at how quickly she emptied their home office of  professional furniture by simply advertising its availability on Craigslist, and then just as magically, purchased the baby suite online as well.

Then the real work began. According to Pinterest, the best decorated nurseries feature entire walls of picture frame collages which deftly weave combined themes of color, gender, and visual suggestions of the baby’s possible future hobby and career interests.  Most importantly, the collages must by punctuated clearly by the new arrival’s name and initials. Assembling these visual stimuli took weeks, and consist of a collection of wild animal heads, baseball gear, and, curiously, a curly silhouette of a handlebar mustache. Yes, mustaches as nursery décor are big for baby boys this year, and I first noticed them when they were given away as party favors at Lil B’s baby shower. I was a little confused at the significance since Lil B won’t be shaving until 2030, and kept checking  for a candy striped barber shop quartet lurking behind the buffet table.

view of collage wall in nurseryBack to the nursery. We Baby Grands were each assigned a batch of frames and shadow boxes to be spray painted and mounted on the nursery walls in such a fashion that the resulting composition would “pop”. This was essential. After each frame or shelf was painstakingly hung on the wall, Juniper would stand back and assess its pop. Regardless of how well you have measured, balanced, and stuck your collages to the wall, no matter how symmetrical and perfectly proportioned the display, if there is no pop, you have failed. Juniper was not about to be doomed as a parent before poor Lil’ B was even born. Happily, Juniper’s future as a mother is secure. We all agree, in our humble opinions, that the nursery looks beautiful enough to grace the pages of a magazine. Or, as we hip Baby Grand’s like to say,  it’s pop is Pin worthy.