would you give up immortality for this man?

Would I? Ummm.... YES. (And even a few years of a normal lifespan.) It's not the king thing, I mean, that's cool and all, but this guy kicks all kinds of ass regardless of his royal destiny. He's fierce and grim and noble, but also gentle and kind and fair. He is a healer, but he will not hesitate to lop off the heads of vile evil creatures. With his Really Big Sword.

And he's hopelessly devoted to one lucky elven lady. If I were her, hell yeah I would give up immortality to be with him. For one thing, the Grey Havens would probably be a drag. But mostly, Aragorn is just one fine specimen of masculine perfection. And by perfection, I mean he is not perfect at all, which is what makes him so, uh, perfect.

I freely admit, I prefer movie Aragorn to book Aragorn. And it's not just because I have lust in my heart, and elsewhere, for Viggo. Well maybe it is, but I also like how movie Aragorn was warmer and had more humanity. Purists will probably object, but I think Peter Jackson changed Aragorn for the better in the movie. And Viggo was simply exceptional. Lust aside.

I was actually going to write a serious post about the melancholy that I always feel when finishing a LOTR book or movie, because I just finished rereading the whole series. And maybe I still will, but not tonight, because I should be sleeping and I'm going to be so tired in the morning and my eyes are dry and my contacts are about to pop out, all because I've been looking at pictures of Viggo for the past hour and a half. (Totally worth it of course.) And so, this post has now devolved into shameless fangirl lust.

Man I love google images.

fun with photoshop

I love to take an ordinary, boring picture and turn it into something cool and interesting. If it weren't for digital photography and photoshop, not only wouldn't I be able to do that, I probably would never have gotten into photography at all. You see, I am an impatient procrastinator. If I used film, I would probably have 53 undeveloped rolls hanging about at any given time. Actually, that's not true. I would be so impatient to see my pictures, but would procrastinate so long about getting them developed, I'd probably take a couple rolls and give up. Also, I hate reading manuals and instructions and really learning how to do things the right way. I mostly just wing it. I know I need to learn more about f stops and shutter speed and... all that other stuff. But with my digital camera, I can just take several pictures of something until I get it right.

I do the same thing with photoshop. I don't know what I'm doing really, just playing around until my pictures look how I want them to. Some get very little editing, just a bit of cropping, others get more heavily tweaked, either to "fix" something, or just because it's fun. Usually it's for the fun reason, because a truly crappy picture can't really be fixed with photoshop.

Except... every once in a while I see potential in a crappy picture. I think, maybe with a little help, there is something cool there after all. And sometimes, it works.

For example. A grackle. Ho hum. I was planning to get a picture of a little woodpecker I had spied in our front pecan, but of course he was gone by the time I came back with the camera. But this guy hung around, so what the hell. Here's my SOOC shot:

Blurry, boring, blah. Headed straight for the virtual garbage can if it weren't for the PS.

But after playing around with it, I was able to make this:

Which is still blurry, but in an artistic way. (Or so I tell myself. Ha.) I love spooky stuff though and this gives me that vibe. It also has a graphic, tenuous quality to it: the idea or essence of a bird. But mostly, I just think it looks cool. Thank you, photoshop!

trip report the last

We continued our circuit of small town attractions by going to the Koffee Kup in Hico, known for its large assortment of homemade pies.

See?

It's also apparently known for its wide appeal to biker-type people. And I'm not talking Lance Armstrong here either. I think we were the only dorks in the whole joint. Well I'm a dork. B isn't. B actually rides a motorcyle, much to my chagrin, but he definitely doesn't fit the profile of a biker-type person. I never knew pie was so popular with that crowd.

Anyway, our waiter was a non-biker type too, and he was very friendly, but not in a weird way, and look what he did to our pie!

I guess the waiter is a dork too. Maybe that's why he was so friendly to me, he sensed in me a kindred spirit.

Or maybe he serves everyone their pie this way, and I am really really a dork for even thinking he did it just for me.

But at least I didn't say, now that is service with a smile! That would have been super dorky!

I would be remiss if I did not mention the other big part of our day - the cows.

It's quite possible that I have never seen so many cows in a 6 hour period in my life.

I guess there's not much else to do round those parts except operate ranches. It does have a certain romantic appeal to me, and I blame this lady. But I just kept wondering where in the world do these people buy their groceries??? Do they have to pack dry ice with them when they go to the store for milk and yogurt and ice cream? They eat milk and yogurt and ice cream, don't they?? Especially ice cream????? Then I started to feel the panic rising from my vicarious dairy-withdrawal and decided it might not be all that romantic to live on a ranch in the middle of nowhere after all.

OK this is the same cow from up there ^ but trust me, there were a bajillion cows, we were just driving by too fast to take pictures.

There were also a lot of goats. Despite this limited photographic documentation, the cow activities we observed were quite varied. Sure, there was plenty of eating/grazing/chewing the cud, but also there was hanging out and chilling with the homies, gettin down wid (or up on) the ladies, sleeping, swatting flies, aimless wandering, all kinds of stuff. But the goats - every single one of them, every single time we saw them, were always, ALWAYS eating. I get a sort of sick pleasure when I see stereotypes in action.

Which brings me to Walburg and its "world famous" German restaurant. Which is where we ate that night. It's kind of like the Salt Lick in that you are driving for miles and miles in the middle of nowhere and then all of a sudden there are hundreds of cars and people all converged in this one spot. It was a beautiful night so we sat outside in their biergarten. There was a traditional German band playing, and even some traditionally clad dancers (including lederhosen I kid you not), a big German beer selection, delicious schnitzel, pucker-inducing vinegary potato salad, and a whole helluva lot of white people. Like I said... heh heh.

So, that about covers our tiny little trip. I think I've gotten a lot of blog mileage out of it considering all we really did was drive around a lot.

Oh, and the pie?

Key lime, baby.

And it was delicious.

The end.

trip report part tre

After the winery, we headed over to Dublin, a/k/a:

Dublin DP is special - "real" - because it is the only DP that is still made with real sugar as opposed to that High Fructose Corn Syrup crap. Sure, all soda is junk food, but I indulge in it rarely, and I would much rather drink something made with good old-fashioned sugar than something made with a highly processed modified sweetener. Tastes better too.

The Dublin bottling plant is also the oldest DP bottling plant in the world. The company sets up a territorial limit for each plant, so that's why you can't buy Dublin DP outside of a 40 mile radius of Dublin.

Which is most unfortunate for us city slickers.

That's why we bought ourselves a case.

(This isn't our case, our bottles have stripes and are very retro cute but I didn't take a picture and really how many pictures of bottles can you stand to look at.)




While we were waiting for our tour to start, we checked out the alley across the street, which is, alas, just a stinky alley, BUT a stinky alley with some very cool sign art. And I dig sign art.






Also while waiting, I got to see a show across the street. This mom with a bunch of kids was yelling at them, and she said, well yelled, to them, "Sometimes I just think you're retarded!" mwahahaa. Is that terrible? I thought it was pretty funny.

Finally our long awaited tour began. (Yes, the sometimes-retarded kids and the yelly mom came too.)

First we all got a free ice cold Dr. Pepper!

Then we went to this room:

Next we went to this room:

(I call this my Laverne & Shirley shot)

Then we went to some rooms where we couldn't take pictures, with posters of past ad campaigns and various signage and memorabilia.

Then we went to the gift shop and spent, um, 80 dollars.

Then we left.

Tours are supposed to last 45 minutes. Ours began at 2, and by 2:45 we had taken the tour, spent a LONG time in the gift shop, and were 10 miles out of town.

So there you have it, folks. Such is the magical fascinating wonderland that is the Dublin Dr. Pepper bottling plant tour! We drove all the way out to the middle of nowhere and used up all kinds of expensive gasoline to get this information for you people so that you won't have to! We're just generous, thoughtful and caring like that.

But not generous, thoughtful and caring enough to share our case with any of you. Hello? They don't even SELL IT HERE. Go get your own.

And while you're there, if you have $ 2.50 and an extra 20 minutes, go on and take the tour. Just watch out for that gift shop.

trip report part deux

We weren't really sure what we'd do to fill our day on Saturday, being that we would be staying in a town mostly known for shopping and antiquing, pastimes that neither B nor I are particularly interested in. So he got the idea that we should head out to the Dr. Pepper bottling plant in Dublin and take a tour, get some real DP, and see what we can see. We both really like taking tours and exploring, but I was wary, since it would be almost 2 hours in either direction, for what would undoubtedly be a dinky little tour. Luckily, one of our fellow guests at the B&B has a ranch in Comanche and is familiar with the area. She confirmed that it wasn't really a destination-worthy type place on its own, but grouped with some other places in the area, we could make a nice day out of it. And so, I was persuaded, and off we went on our small town tour of Texas.

First stop was in Comanche ---> Brennan Vineyards. It's a small but charming winery...

with a wonderful viognier (I'm usually more of a red person but this was so good we bought 2 bottles)...

gorgeous roses in full bloom...

(yes, I really like Photoshop, leave me alone)

a few vines on site (the rest were in fields out yonder)

(yes, yonder is a real place when you're in a small town in the middle of Texas)...

adorable tiny grapes (no raisins anywhere thank god)...

and a very cute kitty named Cab who liked to sit in the sink until one of his humanoid slaves served him his libations...

Their viognier is tasty, but their Cab is definitely my favorite!


Next time: why Dublin Dr. Pepper is the only REAL Dr. Pepper.

would have been

I used to have a friend named Dennie. She was so fucking cool. She was born and raised in NYC, then came down to Austin in the hippie heydays of the late 60s/early 70s. By the time I met her, she was still pretty much a hippie. She had done so many things in her life; she was a writer and a photographer and a dancer and an artist and a musician and an astrologer and an inventor and more. Truly one of the most interesting human beings I will EVER meet.

She and I would talk for hours at a time, about everything under the sun. We shared a passion for movies and certain television shows - not just watching them but talking, talking, talking about them. Then talking some more. Those discussions alone could fill an entire afternoon, but that was just the beginning. We'd almost always end up talking about politics, work, pop culture, philosophy, our mutual fondness for Scottish accents and gorgeous men, religion, music, travel, literature, art, the overwhelming beauty of this world, and the overwhelming ugliness of it, history, our histories, and of course endless topics relating to our own daily lives. She was deep. She made me think. She made me laugh like crazy. She didn't really have things figured out either but after talking to her, I felt so much less alone in this world. We connected on a level that is rare and beautiful, soulful. I loved her. I miss her.

Things were hard for Dennie. She often said she was an inherently miserable person, and while I saw flashes of that, there was so much more. But she finally decided she'd had enough, and in February 2007, she ended things for good. She didn't tell anyone of her plans, and I'm sure it's because she didn't want to be stopped. But that also means that she didn't tell anyone goodbye. I won't dwell here on the pain and devastation I felt after that. I've accepted her decision, and I even think I understand it. She didn't see things getting any better and she wanted to go out on her own terms.

Today would have been her birthday. I'd have taken her to lunch, probably this weekend. We'd probably have walked from her apartment across the street to La Feria, then back again to her apartment or the courtyard behind it, because we wouldn't have been done with our marathon gab session. It would have been so fulfilling and fun and invigorating.

I still have so many things I want to ask her, discuss with her, share with her. And I really, really, hate that I can't.

This song will always remind me of Dennie, both because of the song itself and because I first heard it a couple weeks after she died. I can listen to it over and over and over again, I never get sick of it, and I always - always - cry a little. It's one of my all-time favorite songs. You've probably heard it dozens of times yourself. But give it another listen. Because of Dennie. Because it's beautiful. Because I loved her. Because I miss her.

And because it would have been her birthday today.

trip report part uno

So for our anniversary, B & I took a long weekend and headed up to Salado. I found this B&B online that sounded wonderful: lots of great reviews and a homecooked breakfast and homemade baked goods in the afternoons and 24 hour coffee access and 6 acres out in the country and they even have bees and make their own honey. Yowza - sounded almost too good to be true! However, I am thrilled to report that everything I read about this place is right on the money - it's fantastic! In addition to all that other stuff, the place was immaculate, the owners were attentive and friendly but never intrusive, and we met some super nice fellow travelers. The Yellow House B&B was our home base for the small-town explorations that filled our weekend. I took a billion pictures, which is why I have to break up a pretty short trip into several posts. So let's get started!

Here's the front of the house, aptly named obviously.

And here's the B&B side, with its cozy and comfortable porch.

Doesn't it just exude country charm?

Can't have a big ol' place in the country without a big ol' red barn alongside.

Complete with hammock...

and rusty stuff.

In the back of the property you will find the bees. And B standing very close to the bees. With his face right up in their beeswax.

Plenty of places to take a load off...

I think this picture would make a nice banner. You might see it again here someday.

We had no shortage of company...

Don't worry, it was unplugged.

I saw a lot of this guy's forebears fluttering around but they wouldn't be still for me like he would.

There were tons of birds in the yard, esp. cardinals which I LOVE, but they wouldn't be still either, not for a second even. Here's my cardinal picture, a real trophy shot. Can you see him?? (Obviously the tree was moving too. ha.)

Finally, some still birds. But they were just boring old doves, sitting on a telephone pole of all the unromantic nonscenic ruining-my-country-vibe places! Oh well. At least the pole was still.

Coming up next time: we head west. It's a good thing we took B's pickup, let me tell you, because I don't think my dadgum foreign-made sedan would have, um, fit in.