The Title Goes Here

Much fun has been had both today and yesterday. Yesterday, we drove to Marfa, home of the previously maligned lights. However, Marfa redeemed itself by being a very cool artsy city, in the middle of an area whose major industry appears to be jerky. We started off with lunch at Squeeze, a sandwich/smoothie cafe across from the Marfa courthouse. I had a delicious turkey sandwich, and everyone else's food appeared equally tasty. The staff were friendly and the weather was warm, so you couldn't ask for much better. We also ventured into the Brown Recluse, a coffee shop which was the very image of Austin's much beloved Spiderhouse. As Will noted, house roasted beans and an arachnid theme seen to be the key to coffee success. I call dibs on "Black Widow".

After that, Will, Kim, Robin, and I, eager to uphold our status as cultured art snobs went to the Chinati gallery. Built on an abandoned cavalry base, it houses some absolutely fabulous pieces of modern art and sculpture. It also has a fine collection of inscrutable "sketches", "art poetry" and other things which would have gotten me an F in Eighth Grade Art. The Dan Flavin installations were very interesting, and our tour guide helpful and knowledgeable, so if you find yourself in Marfa (and who doesn't at some point?) do go visit.

That evening, we went to the Davis Mountains, and enjoyed a breathtaking view, along with some sandwiches and soda. Very nice indeed. We were warned of bears and mountain lions when we went in, but a hungry Julie swinging a rock was more than enough to ward off any predators.

Today, Katie, Tiffany, Robin and myself went horseriding in Fort Davis. Apparently, it was early enough that the horses were still hungover from last night, because those beauties were slow as could be. It was a good time though. Staring up at mountains, among the cacti and dry river beds, I could almost imagine myself as a cowboy, tough folk legend of the open range. On further reflection, the dorky plastic helmet I was wearing did not quite gel with that image.

This afternoon, after a meal of "so hot your tongue is crying" fajitas, courtesy of a certain enthusiastic cook, we drove to Monohans Sand Dunes and spent a couple of hours sliding down the dunes on discs. We were gritty as a miner's socks by the end, and I loved every minute of it.

Sorry for the excrutiatingly long post. I'll be off now, as somewhere out there, is a quesadilla with my name on it.