Last week we went to Marfa. We were tired of staying put in one place. My fellow rafters cancelled our river rafting trip at the last minute because it was 112 degrees where we were headed in the Pecos valley, and before I had time to procrastinate Jo got us an airbnb in Marfa. We rented a minivan and took off. The kids were excited to be on the road again. This was Ouiser’s first road trip.
We had our first sit-down restaurant visit since we returned to the US in March. The back patio at the Reata in Alpine was as welcoming as ever. We were only one of three occupied tables. The drinks were great but the food was terrible. Who knows how far they have had to dig down their talent pool to get people to fill in the kitchen. But overall we had a lovely evening.
Vivian had learned to play spit at camp, and she and Evan whiled away the time during the six hour drive and at the airbnb with a pack of cards. They, especially Evan, considered themselves pretty good at the game till Jo crushed them. I haven’t seen them touch the cards since.
It was about 15 degrees cooler in Marfa. We walked the town, hiked up the Davis mountains, visited historic Fort Davis, ate a shit load of Blue Bell ice cream, clambered up and down rocks, visited the Prada-as-art, looked in vain for Marfa lights, and did what we’d do at home – not much. In one of those weird coincidences, a person saw us through their living room window in Marfa while we were outside on the street walking with Ouiser, and she turned out to be an old acquaintance from Austin from two decades ago.
Notes from Dad 