They're out of toast.

Friday, November 23rd 2018

Marfa, TX

It’s 9am CST and I am waking up for day 3 of our Marfa vacation! Around 9:30am I meet my parents in the lobby for breakfast. The restaurant is packed. Mom points out a young Japanese couple, looking mildly uncomfortable in their cowboy hats and I am immediately charmed. 

After breakfast, Dad opts to stay at the lounge and watch football while Mom and I go shopping. Our first stop is a little store called Wrong. I read about it online and can’t tell if it’s a gift shop or a gallery. It’s only a block and a half from our hotel, but it takes nearly 10 minutes to find. Wrong is located on a residential street, in a house, with no sign. Go figure. 

Eventually, we enter. There is a woman and a younger guy behind the counter. The woman is obviously in charge and quickly announces that she needs to go take a shower. She asks if we need anything before she goes. Don't worry, I quip, we'll come find you.

The store is a really interesting mix of original art and handmade gifts. The prices are high and I feel like I just stepped into an Abbot Kinney boutique through a secret portal in the middle of the West Texas desert. I want to buy something on principle but I just can not stomach $500 for an 8 x 10 print. 

Next we wander up Highland Avenue to see what else Marfa has to offer. The plan is to walk to the courthouse at the end of the street. There is a lookout deck at the top; it’s only three stories tall, but we've been told that you can see the whole town. 

Soon we see a small sign that says Andy Warhol on it. It’s next to an oversized, sliding door. With great trepidation, I pull back the large door. Inside we find a single room gallery with a nice lady sitting at a small table. She explains this rotating exhibit is free to the public, courtesy of the Ayn Foundation. The gallery features 3 paintings from Andy Warhol’s last supper, a series that has over 100 pieces in total. It strikes me as strangely religious given what I know about Andy Warhol. Later I'll find out these paintings were Warhol's last before his unexpected death in 1987.   

Next door we find a similar gallery with the works of Maria Zerres. We learn that she is a German artist who finds inspiration from tragedy. This particular series is about September 11. 

As we continue towards the courthouse, we duck into a few gift shops. I am on the lookout for a t-shirt but end up buying a substantially overpriced sweatshirt instead. Mom buys some organic dog treats to bring home for Hyacinth, their miniature schnauzer.  

When we finally arrive at the courthouse, it is closed for the holiday. We are not surprised and decide to head back on the opposite side of the street. We stumble across another gallery, showing photography by Robert Frank. A series of informational panels explain that he is basically the father of street photography. I am definitely into this. There are 100s of photos and a handful of 8mm films running on loops. I am getting tired, but still manage spend nearly 30 minutes checking out his work. 

Soon we are back at the hotel. We reconvene with Dad and enjoy a long afternoon break and a few snacks before bundling up for the evening weather. 

Around 3pm, we walk over to a small coffee shop called Do Your Own Thing. The cafe has no sign and is only marked by a lone sandwich board in a gravel parking lot. The sign reads "coffee, toast and magic". Upon entrance, there is another sign explaining that they are out of toast. It takes almost 15 minutes to get our coffee. It's okay though, we relax at a long picnic table and take in the scene. 

The next stop is Ballroom Marfa, a gallery with rotating art, located across the street. We are not sure what to expect and find 3 rooms and a lone outdoor sculpture. The rooms are filled with abstract paintings and videos. There are no information panels to explain the context but the whole space has a distinct feeling of chaos. The heart of the exhibit, First Person Shooter, by Jibade-Khalil Huffman, is a medium sized room filled with various projected films designed to make you feel scared, uncomfortable and disoriented. We are the only ones in this room and I notice an unmarked door in the back corner. As I approach, I see that it’s partially open. I slowly push on the door, half expecting another Warhol painting. Inside I find a plain bathroom. Even the expected is unexpected in Marfa.

Next we gather in the truck and make the short drive to the Chinati for a special sunset viewing of a few key pieces of art. It turns out there are multiple installations and galleries located all over the place. The guy that sells us our tickets has to explain where we should go 3 times before we fully understand.

We start out at Donald Judd’s Untitled, 100 works in mill aluminum. One of the most famous permanent installations in Marfa, it spans 2 gutted artillery sheds in the middle of the desert and houses exactly 100 aluminum boxes. Dad, with a background in materials science, has a lot to say about the thickness of the aluminum, how it interacts with the environment and the construction of the boxes themselves. At one point, our docent explains that the boxes were constructed at a mill and that Judd only designed them. Dad is visibly disappointed by this news; he was just starting to appreciate the art of Marfa.

The sun is setting quickly, so we walk over to Judd’s 15 untitled works in concrete, which spans a little bit over half a mile. We don’t have much time, so we approach the very large exhibit somewhere in the middle and stroll up it's dirt road towards the parking lot. The concrete boxes are light gray, smooth and  taller than we are. Dad talks about the quality of the concrete and I muse on the interaction of the art and the landscape. Mom waits patiently as we analyze each box.     

By the time we get back to the hotel, it’s dark and cold outside. We are ready for an early dinner. The hotel restaurant is packed and we are lucky to snag a table in the corner after only a few minutes of waiting. Our server is awesome and lets us order from the formal dining room instead of the bar. I get steak frites and creamed spinach. My meal is great and we even have a perfect view of the TV to watch college football. 

We spend the rest of the evening in the lounge, sipping wine and occasionally talking over the game. Today turned out to be a good day for both art and football.   

But humanity had another plan

Thursday, November 22nd 2018
Marfa, TX


It’s 9:30am CST and I am getting ready for our first full day in Marfa, TX. Today is Thanksgiving and we have no idea what we are going to do! I meet my parents for breakfast in the lobby at 10am. I am wearing wool socks, 3 layers of clothing and my hiking jacket, which is rated for subzero temperatures. After an unnecessarily, drawn out production of shedding multiple layers, I finally sit down at the table. No one else even has a jacket; despite my Texas roots, I am already feeling like a dumb tourist. 

For breakfast, I order a small plate of bacon and avocado. Service is slow, so we spend nearly an hour in the small restaurant, clutching our coffees and deciding how to spend the day. Not much will be open, so we opt to take this opportunity to make the drive to Prada Marfa. 


On the way out of town, we stop at Cobra Rock, which is a handmade boot company. We are surprised to see they are open and go inside to have a look. I’ve been on the lookout for high end boots for many years and am doubtful that I will find them here. While my Mom marvels over their vintage sewing machine, I take a look around. Holy crap; these boots are perfect! I chat with the sales women and tell her about my lifelong quest for Texas boots to wear in LA and she is very sympathetic. She explains that all boots are made to order and that I would need to make my purchase from their website. The wait time is roughly 4 months. I’m into these boots and vow to order some after the holidays 


Our next stop is Prada Marfa, a weird, little art installation in the middle of nowhere. Technically, it’s not even in Marfa; it’s about 1.5 miles north of a town called Valentine, TX. I've known about this installation for a while, but decide to use this time to get up to speed on its history. I pull up Wikipedia and begin to read.


Prada Marfa is a sealed off storefront with Prada shoes and bags from 2005, when it was originally built. The idea was to build the store in a harsh environment and then never repair it so that it would eventually become a ruin and disappear back into the earth (thus providing a pretty overt statement on the fleeting nature of fashion and status). However, as it turned out, humanity had another plan. The night after the sculpture was completed, it was badly vandalized and looted, forcing the artist to restore it immediately. Since then, Ballroom Marfa, a local nonprofit, has performed “minimal maintenance”, including painting over graffiti and picking up trash.

When we arrive there is only one visitor. A solo woman on a large motorcycle. I immediately offer to take her picture and she is grateful. There is a yellow, curly line spray painted around the base of the building, but no other current graffiti. We get a ton a pictures right before a large crowd arrives. Dad wanders across the street to photograph some railroad tracks that are so straight and flat, they look like they are falling off the end of the earth. He convinces me to climb up and we take a few photos of each other. 

On the way back, we catch a new mural, called “Giant Marfa”. It reflects a key scene from the movie, Giant (filmed in Marfa) and was donated to the city by John Cerney this October. There is an extremely large wooden cut out of James Dean set next to cut outs of Rock Hudson and Elizabeth Taylor in a yellow car and a large mansion. There is also music playing in the background. We deduce that it’s powered by solar energy, but are not completely sure. 

Once we get back into town, we take a quick break before convening in the lobby for Thanksgiving dinner. We can get a table at our hotel, but we prefer to go to the buffet the Hotel Paisano. A quick phone call suggests that they are booked, but we decide to walk over there anyways. When we arrive, we are easily seated next to a large table with multiple screaming kids. Our server is totally over the top and has fingernails that are easily 3 inches long. I wonder if that’s sanitary, but am mostly amused by the randomness of this place. He gives us each a small bottle of champagne to start the meal. The buffet includes a basic salad, a Waldorf salad, some prime rib, a green bean casserole, corn, potatoes and bread. Aside from the prime rib and complimentary champagne, it’s fairly unimpressive. Oh well, at least we don’t have to do the dishes.

Next, we go back to our hotel lobby and order a round of after dinner drinks. Port for me, a margarita for Dad and a Shirley Temple for Mom. We call Grandmother and talk on the phone for a while. At one point, Dad asks if I can drive later and I switch from wine to coffee. We lounge around until it gets dark enough to see the Marfa lights.   


Around 8pm we bundle up in our warmest clothes and pile into the truck to go look for aliens from outer space. By this point, Dad is visibly tipsy, I am a little jealous and Mom is bordering on annoyed. As we drive down the dark highway, Dad sings classic rock songs and tells us how much he loves his dog and his truck.  


Once we arrive at the viewing point, we join a small crowd of hopeful tourists to stare into the night. Dad tells me about the Marfa lights, he has seen them on YouTube and explains that the "real" Marfa lights will blink on and off and jump around the horizon. He tells us that the lights date back to 1885 so they are obviously not headlights. We stare intently at the horizon and wonder what they are. After about 30 minutes, just when I am ready to give up, Mom insists that she sees moving lights. I take the binoculars and I see them too! They are near a distant radio tower and are appearing and disappearing in various locations. Other groups of tourists point and chatter in excitement. 

Eventually the cold drives us back to the hotel. We spend the rest of the evening in the lounge. We order some snacks, a few more rounds of drinks and Mom updates us on her research on our family tree. Around midnight we finally close our tab and head upstairs for bed. 

Another dimension

Wednesday, November 21st 2018
Los Angeles, CA and Marfa, TX

It’s 6:30am PST and I am waking up for a full day of travel to Marfa, TX. At 7am I am standing in front of the most awkward Lyft driver of all time. He offers to put my bag in the trunk and then asks if I want to watch him do it. I say that I don’t care to watch him but I also don’t want to sit in the car any longer than I have to. He asks why and I say that I like being outside more than I like being in a car. Thus my trip begins. 

The airport is busy, but I still make it through security with plenty of time to grab breakfast and coffee. I walk the length of the terminal and can not find any food that looks appealing. I end up with a large cup coffee for breakfast.

The flight to Dallas goes smoothly. Once I land, I have about an hour and half to kill before my next flight. I find a restaurant called Cantina Laredo. I recognize it from Austin and am feeling confident about the food. I order some ahi tuna tacos and add on chips and salsa. The tacos are weird and I remember that I broke one of my food rules, which is to never order raw fish in Texas. I end up not eating the tacos and filling up a chips, salsa and Chardonnay.     

By the time I land in Midland, I am starving. The Midland airport has the unmistakable air of small town Texas. The passenger pick up area is small and full of trucks. As always, my parents are early and I find them right away. 

It’s already 6:30pm CST and the drive to Marfa is 3 hours. We decide to stop for dinner in Monahans. The freeway is dark and empty and we are driving fast. My Mom can barely read the map and we are past Monahans before we even knew we were there. Oh well, dinner in Pecos. 

I use my GPS to direct us to the number 1 rated restaurant in Pecos, according to Yelp. When we arrive the building is dark and boarded up. Number 2 restaurant? Same situation. We finally arrive at the Old Mill restaurant at 8pm. This is a self-professed Mexican and Italian restaurant. They are open but the parking lot is completely dark. We take a few minutes to move our suitcases into the cab of the truck. Something about this place feels very rough. 

The hostess is incredibly nice and seats us immediately. The menu is 7 pages long and I am so hungry that I can barely see straight. Eventually I agree on jalapeno poppers for an appetizer and hamburger steak with fried okra and green beans for dinner. The jalapenos are soggy and my hamburger steak is room temp at best. I did not have high hopes for the Old Mill, yet I am still disappointed. 

We drive another 2 hours to Marfa. When we arrive, we are the only car in town. We find our hotel immediately but it still takes 3 trips around the block to figure out where the front door is located. The wind is tearing through the streets and there are literally tumbleweeds rolling past. 

When we enter the Hotel St. George, it’s as though we stepped into another dimension. The main lobby is almost entirely white, with elegantly placed, recessed lighting. To the right is a high end bookstore that only sells books by local artists and handmade, silk scarfs; to the left is a small lounge bar filled with hipsters. Where did all of these people come from? 

Once we get checked in, we only have about an hour before the hotel bar closes for the night. We quickly reconvene in the lounge for a celebratory cocktail. I order a Titos and soda and our Thanksgiving vacation has finally begun!      













What does a bird-shaped coffin and a lock of Lincoln's hair have in common?

Sunday, September 30th 2018

Lake Conroe, TX and Los Angeles, CA

It’s 6am CST and I am getting up to see the sunrise on Lake Conroe. The condo is dark and silent as I sneak downstairs. I think this is the first time in my life I have ever woken up before my parents. After nearly five minutes of searching I finally find a light switch and am able to see enough to boil some water for the French press. I make a very strong cup of coffee and move outside to watch for the sun. 

6:32am, the official time of sunrise comes and goes. Dawn is breaking and the entire lake is bathed in a blue-tinted light that can only be seen at this time of day. The sky is gray and the air is misty, but it’s not raining anymore. I watch a few birds fly by and a lonely fishing boat putter towards the main part of the lake.  

My Mom joins me around 7:30am and almost immediately we catch a glimpse of the sun poking through clouds somewhere in between the horizon and the top of the sky. We seem to be the only people on the lake. 

Eventually, we are all awake and spend a lazy morning drinking coffee and make a late breakfast. Around noon we start to pack up. We have about 4 hours to kill before I need to be at the airport for my flight back to LA. My Mom suggests that we visit the National Museum of Funeral History and I think this is an awesome idea. 

As we enter the museum, I really have no idea what to expect. It starts out with a tribute to Presidential funerals which is peppered with weird little relics like a lock of Lincoln’s hair and dirt from the burial site of President Truman. Next we enter a room dedicated to the burial of Popes. This is pretty interesting and I learn a lot, including the process for the ceremonial smashing of the pope ring upon his death. Other rooms are more focused on science, like mummification and cremation. There is also a tribute to famous deaths of Hollywood and then a display of fantasy shaped coffins inspired by funeral traditions in Ghana. This place is totally wacky. 

Eventually I meet my parents at the end. This experience was so strange, we each buy a t-shirt to commemorate the moment. 

We find a Papasitos on the way to the airport and sit down for a long lunch. I order a taco salad and I excited to see that it’s automatically served with ground beef (in California this would be carne asada). 

I end up at the airport early, but it’s okay, we are running out of things to do anyways. The flight back to LA is easy and before I know it I am back home. What a fun little weekend trip. 

Esty for retired Texans

Saturday, September 29th 2018

Lake Conroe, TX 

It’s 9am CST and I am getting up for a full day in Lake Conroe, TX. The rain is pounding on my window and the lake is desolate. We gather in the living-room-of-Texas-tacky for several rounds of coffee. My parents brought their own coffee beans along with a grinder and french press. They are proving to be amazing road trip buddies. 

We mull over the idea of visiting the Wolf Sanctuary but ultimately decide the weather is too bad. Eventually, my Dad makes us all bacon and eggs and we get ready for the day. 

The Longhorns will be playing at 2pm, so we have a little over an hour to kill beforehand. I suggest that we go to Main Street. There are a few consignment and antique shops and this feels like the right place for my first antiquing experience. Our first stop, Mimi’s, is a warehouse of random stuff; it’s basically Etsy for retired Texans. When we arrive, we are immediately greeted by a nice lady and offered tea cookies and coffee. This is cute. 

We spend almost the full hour wandering from stall to stall as my parents point at different items and tell me about growing up in West Texas. I’m pretty charmed by the whole experience. 

The next stop is Buffalo Wild Wings to watch football. Today the Longhorns are playing Kansas State and anything can happen. We grab a table in front of a large TV. I’m not really hungry and I don’t want a drink, but feel pressured to order something. I end up with celery, cheese dip and a glass of Chardonnay. We spend most of the afternoon here. The games goes great and I am irrationally happy to see Texas play well again. We have good conversation between plays and the whole experience is very nice. 

After the game, it’s getting dark outside. We stop by our grocery store for snacks and more wine. We spend the rest of the evening sitting on our patio, gathered around a Markham Cabernet and large cheese board. 

The magical Yeti cooler of hangover cures

Friday, September 28th 2018

Lake Conroe, TX 

It’s 1pm CST and my parents are picking me up at the Embassy Suites in Houston, TX. I just finished working the Grace Hopper conference and am exhausted and so, so hungover. My Dad immediately grabs my bag and offers my a chilled, coconut-flavored La Croix from the Yeti cooler in the back of their Explorer. I am grateful.

Our first stop is Starbucks. My Dad recently got on board with the Keto diet and has discovered the joy of high fat coffee. Once we grab our drinks we return to the back of the truck where he produces a pint of heavy cream from his magical Yeti cooler of hangover-cures.

Our next stop is brisket. We stop at Pappas and it’s as Texan as you can get. The food is served cafeteria-style, followed with a self-serve onion and pickle bar and complimentary soft serve ice cream. I eat slowly and tell my parents about how my coworkers insisted on eating sushi for most of our trip.

Per my suggestion, we have rented a condo on Lake Conroe for the weekend. The plan is to sit by the lake and eat BBQ. We make one last stop at a small grocery store. We grab steaks and broccoli for a late dinner and finally check into our condo. The entire complex is silent and our unit is decorated as though Whole Earth Provisions was having a yard sale. I am part charmed and part offended. There is a large balcony that protrudes over the lake and the screen door is covered in little bugs. 

Once we get settled, we spend the early evening catching up and then cook a light dinner paired with a really nice Cabernet and cheese plate. Around 11pm we are finally ready for bed. We agree to sleep as late as we want and I have never been so happy to fall into bed.

Goodbye Shalimar, hello Los Angeles

Sunday, September 23rd 2018

Shalimar, FL and Los Angeles, CA

It’s 8:30am CST and I am packing up for my trip back to LA. I am staying in a small guest apartment at the Bob Hope Village, which is a retirement community for veterans and their spouses. A list of check out instructions was left on my door last night. There are about 30 steps, including taking out my own trash. Initially I plan on ignoring the instructions, but then I get scared. After all, this is the military I’m dealing with. I complete the full check out procedure and, as a result, end up at my grandmother’s door 5 minutes late. 

I only have a few hours before I have to leave for my mid-afternoon flight. We hang out in her apartment for a little bit. I help install her new lamp shade and we marvel at its beauty. Around 10am we head out for a trip to CVS to buy a battery operated alarm clock and then to brunch. CVS is empty and the whole staff comes over to help us. They are visibly charmed my grandmother and her aversion to all technology, including digital clocks. She only wants one with hands and it takes nearly 3 people to go dig one out of the back.

Once we are done with CVS, we drive over to a cafe called Joe & Eddy’s for a late breakfast. To my surprise, the food is excellent. I order a large omelette and a side bacon and eat every bite. The coffee is just okay. After breakfast we still have about 30 minutes before I need to leave, so we spend it lounging in the coffee corner of the main lobby of her building. We small talk with the passing nurses and take a few too many selfies on Snapchat. 

Soon it’s time to go and I have a hard time saying goodbye. I vow to call more often and to come visit soon. 

The drive back to Pensacola is easy. I arrive at the airport way too early and end up drinking two glasses of Chardonnay before the plane arrives. During the fight back I am inexplicably emotional. Primarily, I feel an overload guilt, which is somehow amplified by the kindness of everyone I met in Shalimar. I also feel a sense of relief from stress that I didn't know that I had. I guess I was very worried about making every minute of this trip count and my travel problems on day one compounded this significantly. Finally, I feel great sadness for grandmother and everyone else that lives at Bob Hope Village. It's a lonely place.    

When I finally get to my car at the Venice office I burst into tears. I cry the whole way back home to east LA.