When you last left me about 2 weeks ago I was sitting in the cozy living room of my friend's apartment in Frankfurt, furtively hoping that I would be boarding a plane for Seattle in a few hours. Truth be told I did not leave until 4 days later, after 3 canceled flights and full days spent at the airport in horrendously long lines. However, in the evenings I was lucky enough to return to my friends Rick and Heike, who filled me with gluhwein (mulled red wine and rum- dangerous stuff) gingerbread treats, and good cheer. We ate pizzas, watched Madmen, and spent a night at a blues bar, where I was convinced to jump onstage and sing "Ain't no Sunshine," to a gaggle of drunk Germans and reluctant ex-pat musicians.
Frankly, it was worth braving the chaos of the airport and the free Luftansa food to collect these last lingering stories, and I now look back on Frankfurt with an even greater sense of fondness.
On my way back home I was detoured through Dulles International overnight, but luckily enough was saved by my rad Uncle Eric, who arrived in his pickup truck with snacks (as directed by my Mom, his oldest sister.) We went back to his house just over the border in West Virigina, drank beer, watched a reality tv show about hockey, and hung out with his cat, whose eyes are not the same size . . .
I finally made it home the next day, all the while entertaining myself with thoughts such as:
"You know you've been traveling too long if you routinely stop by the duty free store to spray your smelly pants with perfume."
OR
"You know you are on a plane to Seattle when you sit next to a nice lesbian couple wearing fleece, gortex, and shoes that look like potatoes."
Jokes aside, I made it home on the 23rd, my luggage managed to follow me, and all is well. There was Christmas day, without presents but including fried mussels, bloody mary's, a family viewing of the film The Hangover, and Chinese food for dinner. (Best Christmas in YEARS!!!!) There were games of dice at the Cozy Inn, New Years Eve at the Center for Wooden Boats dancing with old friends, watching the fireworks from the space needle, and nights spent turning the volume up on the amp in the living room and playing guitar with my Pops.
Although I reckon I could have traveled for longer, I feel solid about returning to my homeland with some Benjamins in my pocket and energy to spare. So, to get to the purpose of this epilogue, and to quell your curiosity about why in the hell a ginger who is prone to sunburns might title an entry, "The Texas Diaries," I ask you this: what can be bought for $125?
The answer:
A one way plane ticket to Austin, TX.
I am moving on January 25th, and as many of you know this idea has been churning in the butter of my brain for several months now. What does Austin have? From what I hear, what DOESN'T it have? It's got sunshine, banjos, barbecue, cowboys, songwriters, improv theaters, Noah Martin, bike plays, friends old and new, swimming holes, and BATS! And of course, it has newness and opportunity. And that is what Red is all about at this juncture in her life.
So, if you have friends there, or food carts you think I should visit, or sunscreen you want to send, I'd love to know about it. I don't know how long I will be there for, but I'd like to find a nice place and a way to make some money and post up for a bit. I will do my best to find a living situation that includes a nice fold out couch or futon for YOU! My Grandpa said he is already looking at when he can drive out from Virginia to stay with me. I can't wait!
I may update this a few more times, for those of you who enjoy my ramblings and want to hear about my midnight bikes rides to Townes Van Zandt's grave, and other soon-to-be stories.
Until then, a happy new year to y'all, and look for tales of the illustrious Red as she begins her new chapter in the Lonestar state.
with love,
Lindsey
