Got to get away…

It’s funny how songs just pop into your mind and get stuck there, isn’t it?
All week long I’ve been humming an old song that visited me out of nowhere. And, when I say old, I mean really old…it’s a song by Canned Heat called “Going Up the Country,” recorded in 1968 and popularized the next year at Woodstock.

The lyrics will give you an insight into my state of mind after this week: Taxes were due. It’s been raining cats & dogs. Just when you think politics can’t get any stupider, Ted Cruz did…you really can’t make this stuff up!  As the final straw, we both had the flu…causing us to miss a much anticipated wedding.

What’s a gypsy to do?

I’m going up the country, babe, do you want to go?
I’m going up the country, babe, do you want to go?
I’m going to someplace where I’ve never been before.
I’m gonna leave this city, got to get away.
I’m gonna leave this city, got to get away. 
All this fussing and fighting, man, you know I sure can’t stay.

Twisty redwoods

XO Donna

 

My kind of Marathon

Here in Austin, it seems like there’s a foot-race every weekend. 10Ks, half-marathons, and marathons – we’ve got them all. And occasionally I forget about them and get caught in the city-wide traffic jam they cause, as we did last weekend. I stopped running a while ago…now I run the other way!

And, speaking of marathons, we are meeting friends tonight to firm up the details for a trip to Marathon, and the surrounding areas, next weekend. On the motorcycles.

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First stop – the historic Gage Hotel.  I’ve come here many times over the last 30 years – and it keeps getting better – if by better you mean  gone all fancy. From what I just read online,  it’s reached it’s pinnacle – since it is now the #1 Small Hotel in Texas, and being touted for it’s laid-back luxury.

I remember when it was just laid-back, a bit dusty, and outright rustic. The first time I came here alone was a spur of the moment decision on my way to Santa Fe. I know it isn’t on the way…but it called to me.  I found a phone at a filling-station, called, and asked for a room.  They had one, so I headed south through the desert. Upon arrival, I was given a tiny upstairs room with an old metal twin bed and a shared bathroom down the hall. Exactly what I wanted.

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To quote Cher, “gypsies, tramps, and thieves,” and musicians, cowboys, and road-trip junkies were the kind of folk who’d come here back then for refuge; a few days spent in what remained of the Old West. They could usually be found passing time and swapping stories in the White Buffalo bar.

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I’m very excited, and I’ll let you know the rest of the plans just as soon as they’re settled!

XO Donna

 

 

Indecisive

In two weeks, it will be a year since we sold our house. A year since we down-sized like crazy. A year since we were going to purchase a motor-home and take off.

The other night we laughed at all the things that we still haven’t done: the stuff sitting in the stairwell that I haven’t taken given away, bags of books that haven’t gone to PhaetonrearHalf-Price Books, and one more round of Goodwill goodies that need to get gone.

A lot has happened, all of it good, but we are no closer to buying our dream home-on-wheels than we were. ..and our lease is up in three months!

Push has come to shove…stay tuned.
XO Donna