Coming back from Texas

This has been my least productive year for blogging so far, by a long shot. I'm actually very happy about that. 

I needed a break.

A mere 147 blasts. Even if I was to go on some amphetamine addled literary burst, which will never probably happen because I've never indulged in such substances in my lifetime, my past record of 246 blog entries in 2014 will not be eclipsed or jeopardized. Some of you might remember I took six months off that year for burnout. 

In any case, this has been a crazy year for me, forgoing weed and alcohol and writing and photography to a great extent. One glass of cabernet and a glass of port. All year. I don't miss the alcohol much although the thought of a nice bloody mary does sound quite thrilling but I have been thinking how nice a puff of a joint might taste for a week or two now, found myself craving a bit of weed inspiration. I didn't succumb. Who knows how things will turn out in 2026? 

The year off has been good to me, I am definitely more productive and through a variety of deals and machinations am slowly getting my financial house in a little more order. But I may be turning into a bit of a bore. Glad to not be constantly triggered by politics, hoping that one day I/we will wake up from our current national nightmare.

Anyway it is good not to share so much, not to opine, record or take photographs, flip the paradigm around a bit.

I have just returned from my second trip to Texas in a year. This has necessitated two shots of steroids and a nerve block in my foot, which has ached horribly since the first trip. 

I just got back from the podiatrist. 

Ligament strain and tendinitis. 

Says I need to take it easy. 

Right.

Actually the foot is just the start of the problem, foot and ankle, all the way up to the hip, my body can no longer endure the agony of two fifteen hour days driving in a row.

My right leg was on fire on the way out, the last three hours before I reached Comfort, Texas, at the start of Hill Country.

I was suffering in agony and no place to pull off the road. Crying in pain, tortured.

Just gut out the I10 east and try to live to tell about it.

No rest stops and little light, tailgated for the last two thousand miles by a retinue of drivers who don't understand how a normal human being can drive a box truck at 65 miles an hour in the slow lane of a freeway?

My grandfather drove the same way, slow, maybe the slow driving gene skips generations like alcoholism?

Anyhow, I have returned from one of the longest antique roadies of my career, a sixteen day swing to Texas and back. Physically and logistically difficult, trying to figure out such basic things as the socks and underwear count, make sure I have enough relatively clean Hawaiian shirts for the trip.

I left my house at 4:30 in the morning on the morning of the sixth. 

The dipper still sparkled brightly above my home on the crisp and clear night.

It has been so beautiful around here the last month or so.

I stopped at a gas station and made the acquaintance of a female grackle who was giving me the side eye.

I drove to Phoenix to drop off some consigned rugs that did not sell.

Had lunch with a couple of friends at Little Miss, a great barbecue spot.

I wanted to get to Las Cruces the first night but unfortunately ran into a grisly accident scene near Casa Grande that shut down both lanes of the I10 for a couple hours.

Have to deal with what the road gives you.

Eventually the road re-opened. 

I enjoyed the sunset and finally limped into Wilcox for the night, a mere hour or two past Tucson.

I left early the next day and crossed Texas. 

It was a brutal ride, hit rain past Ozona and cussed myself out for not getting new wiper blades.

It was about fifteen hours in the car and my right leg was on fire. I don't ever remember suffering like that but I only had one option, move forward.

Which I did, finally hitting a b and b in Comfort, the Meyer, that would leave me only three more hours in the morning until my eventual destination. Nice place, wish that I had more time to enjoy it. I was absolutely dead, sucked dry by the West Texas passage.

I got to the show at 9 the next morning and started loading in. 

This is how my booth turned out. Last time I had back to back twenty foot booths with a pass through that gave me 80' of walls, this was a forty foot straight shot.

I kind of liked the first way better but they aren't doing that anymore. Take what they give you, but it was a track meet covering all this ground on a bum leg.

My booth was quite Western this time, which happens to be what I have been into of late and after all, I was in Texas. I was sure the cool western furniture would sell, it did not. Maybe too western, they sniffed.

I had a three day setup and then the show started. I did exceedingly well the first three days and then the doors clanged shut, barely anything for the remainder.

So I started looking around the show for stuff to buy and managed to cobble another 10k in sales I engineered from the floor. Take it anyway I can get it. Sold a Rookwood, Tiffany candlesticks, brokered some Tiffany lamps. Bought a beautiful and rare Sara Mayo basket with human figures, a great bracelet. Found a nice Doel Reed aquatint, some rare New York WPA prints. Wish that I had more time to shop but it was almost impossible to move on my bum leg.

I shared a motel room with my old comrade Steve. Steve did really well but will probably not come back, the time it takes is just too much for a sane person who doesn't need to do it for the money at this point. Saved me five hundred bucks sharing the room and we went out for some great meals.

But back to the shows. 

Maybe I got lucky the first time or maybe the right people didn't show up but this show seemed to have more decorative arts buyers than knowledgable collectors. It was not Santa Fe or New York for sure. 

Pretty girls in sun dresses out to be seen. And I am okay with that too. People having fun. 

Roundtop is a definite must do event for the people in Texas and surrounding states and I am grateful to finally be a part of it.

Luckily I brought enough lower end decorative work to keep myself covered and managed to sell some high ticket items too.

This was sort of funny as a way to illustrate the situation.  

I had this great photograph of Georgia O Keefe taken by Dan Budnick in 1995. 

I was asked if it was Frank Lloyd Wright twice and Salvador Dali once. 

Sad, but there is practically no art education left in our schools.

What are you going to do?

The Thomas Hart Benton below the Budnick, arguably our greatest regionalist? 

Perhaps one in ten had a clue.

No matter, I made money, the people were sweet, the women incredibly attractive.

I noticed some trends. Very little ink on the skin, relatively speaking, which is fine with me, and very slim physiques. Lots of backless dresses, not a lot of boobs evident.

I read recently that a lot of women are opting for breast reduction and was wondering if I was seeing the titular augmentation in women this young?

Did see some seriously distorted botox duck lips.

The Texas look is a trip, hat, cowboy boots and sun dress. 

I like it. 

But I saw another fashion trend that gave me mild pause. 

The puffy, ruffled sleeve. 

That sartorial element sure has not made its way to California. 

I think I remember it from some reruns of little house on the prairie.

The woman across from me said that it is indeed a "prairie style" look. As in flour sack dresses. I was informed that there is a burgeoning "trad woman" movement with long hems and puffy sleeves for the woman who knows her proper place in the home. There was even a booth there which catered to the subordinate distaff set.

God bless them. Saw a lot of once trophy wives with men twenty or thirty years their senior, who took the deal some time back and now were entering the sunset hours together, with a slightly different date stamp.

I'm down with what floats anybody's boat. Viva le difference, we all make and live with our choices.

So I had a lot of good sales and a lot of maybees and near misses.

All good. Maybe I will get a call back one day, who knows?

Steve and I ate at Las Patronas in Giddings like five times.

Delicious quail.

Parradillas with fajitas, ribs, quail and shrimp cooked on a sizzling iron grill.

The best beans you ever had in your life.

We also had great prime rib at Santa Fe steaks.

We became fast friends with the owner of the establishments, Manuel. 

He bought us dessert one night. 

It turns out that he was once a farm worker in California, picked tomatoes in Carlsbad in the seventies when I was building houses nearby.

Great guy.

In the morning it was Cafe Chihuahua for breakfast burritos with a line out the door. Great tamales, I had the Carne Guisada, which you can't get here. Lousy coffee, which is pretty much everywhere these days. Hit up the donut shop one day for kolaches, a contribution from the large local Czech population.

Surprisingly, no barbecue this whole time in Texas although I did travel an hour out of the way for my favorite quesobirria tacos in Brenham. Went to my fave barbecue place in Luling but it was closed on Sunday.

So the show was good but long and not helped by not or barely selling the last day or two. I left on Monday to start the long ride home. I ended up in Fort Stockton the first night, then dropped off to see Sublette and buy a couple cool things from him in Tucson including this beautiful blanket. 

I bedded in Gila Bend the second night. I bought some stained glass windows for a friend doing a remodel in Coronado and delivered them Wednesday afternoon, in heavy traffic, now operating on fumes.

I was starving, hadn't eaten in a day and stopped for beef brisket and Chinese noodles at Shanxi Magic Kitchen.

Can't beat hand ripped noodles and spice when you are dragging.

Home now, mostly unpacked, a victory charted up, no regrets. Did my best and was rewarded.

Next month a much abbreviated trip to Santa Barbara and I get to do it all again.

Thanks for coming along for the ride.

By the way, I will be at eleven million views before you know it, closer to it then ten.

And I want to thank you all who have been by my side with this thing.

I talked to an older reader yesterday who doesn't get out that much and have come to realize how important my writing is to some of you.

We have forged a human relationship, despite all my warts and bitching, politics notwithstanding, like it or not. And that is what keeps me going.

Love you.