Remembrance of Things Passed: Prescott, Little Rock

I drove to Little Rock on Wednesday, getting in at 11:30PM, to attend my great-grandma Grady Faye's funeral on Thursday morning.  To me and my cousins, she was Grady Faydie. Just like I didn't know she was my step-great-grandma until college, I also didn't know that Grady Faye was her real name, I thought it was her grandma name, (we like to make up our own, my grandmother is Gramadear).  The funeral was in Prescott, the small town where my grandmother was born and raised.  She said it used to be thriving when the railroad brought it lots of people and business, but the highway has since diverted both commerce and visitors.  Compared to how it used to be, she said it's practically in decay.  Seeing historic main streets and store fronts abandoned and falling into disrepair, as well as hundred year old houses that are begging for new paint, roofs, foundation work... is a sad testament to how architectural history is often treated.

My Grady Fadie knew something about style, though.  She went out in a pink casket, with pink roses, wearing a pink suit with hand-sewn pink sequins and beads on the collar and cuffs.  If I wasn't terrified of caskets over cremation, I'd do the same thing.

Cremation is an odd thing, though.  My mother was cremated, and it has left me with a sort of "lost" feeling as to where to "visit" her, as there's no real grave.  There's the place where the ashes were scattered, and a shared plaque, but it's not really the same.

Gradie Fadie is being buried beside her first husband.  A few hops up, my blood great-grandfather and great-grandmother are buried side by side: August and Thelma.  I never met either of them, but I have great-grandma Thelma's Prescott High School class ring, a perfect fit.  The date has rubbed off the front except for a barely visible "19," but her maiden initials are still clearly visible inside the band: T.P.H.

I also have my grandmother's Prescott High School class ring, and my mother's Parkview High School ring.  It makes me regret not getting my own class ring, as it will leave a gap in the collection.

This was Grady Fadie's house, and sadly, I will probably never see it again.  She moved in when she married my great-grandfather August, and my grandmother was born in the Prescott hospital and raised here until she left for the University of Arkansas and married my grandfather.  She said the back den used to be a screened in sleeping porch for hot, Arkansas summer nights, and several of the trees surrounding the house are pecan trees.  Grady Fadie used to give me ziplock bags full of the pecans that fell to the ground.  The house is ninety years old.

After the funeral, we skipped the typical deli tray luncheon and went to Maxine's Diner.  I had to get fried okra, because aside from loving it, Grady Fadie used to make it for me.  My Aunt Carol and I split this gigantic piece of coconut cream pie.  She had to hold it up to her face for a size comparison.

Before leaving my grandmother's house in Little Rock, (my grandfather is still alive, but he's in a nursing home), I pulled this dress out of the closet in my mom's old room.  My grandmother made it for her to go to a formal dance when she was in high school, and the lace details were made by great-grandma Thelma.  For some reason, this dress has always fit me, even though my mom's wedding dress most certainly did NOT when I tried it on back when I was engaged.  I love it, and Austin is a city in which I could actually wear this, where as I would feel people were looking at me funny if I wore it in Little Rock.  My grandmother is going to shorten the skirt so it hits at my knee, and I can't wait to wear it.

I'm now back in Texas, but am staying over night at my dad's house in Copperas Cove. 

This is only the second time I have been back in Little Rock since I moved.  Little Rock has the affect on me, where I have a memory tucked into every corner and crevice of it's cityscape, so that I feel as though I own it.  I can tell you how everything looked twenty years ago from personal memory, as well as up to sixty years ago from family stories.  I spent time with friends, with Michael, with family, in what feels like every building, parking lot, street light... it makes everything feel as though it is mine, and makes me unafraid of any space. 

When Lennon and I go to Dallas, he says the same thing about it and Grand Prairie.  He drives down the streets wide-eyed and relaying stories about every inch of street he's traveled.  I suppose I do the same thing in Little Rock. 

Do you have a town or place like that?

Crave Sushi & Knitted Hats from Grandma

After so many pint nights this week, it was definitely time to stay in.  Earlier this week, though, Lennon and I tried out Crave Sushi on Guadalupe.  It seemed prime to go since all of the students were still home, which meant there was a place to park, an anomaly that never happens!  I got sushi and Lennon got chicken fried rice.  The food was good, but I'm yet to find a Hanaroo that serves kiwi on sushi, or a Sushi Cafe with a mango Hawaiian role.  I don't know how I feel about backless benches, but the inside of Crave was very pretty in black and sans backs.  I can't wait till its warm enough to bike places comfortably, and sit outside!  Tonight's chill and thriftiness has merited movies and hot chocolate.

Today, like yesterday, was ridicu-cold in Texas, so I got to bundle up in the hat my grandmother just sent me - which I love!  When I was down in Little Rock before Christmas I picked out the purple yarn and the style, then eagerly awaited till it arrived.  I'm sending her this link so she can see the pictures, so hi, Gramadear - I love you!

I borrowed Eirik's eleven year old chubby kitty, Aretha, for the photos.  Fashion model kitty was not amused, thought angle of camera made her look fat.  Fashion model Amanda feels similar, seeing as those pants have not fit for the past two years because they were too big.  I need to exercise for four main reasons: 1) my health, as I'm a prime cancer candidate, 2) because my face carries weight like a chipmunk, 3) most of my clothes no longer fit, 4) I miss having the extra energy.  Things to worry about when it warms up...

Hat: my grandmother!

Scarf: J. Crew outlet

Cardigan: Target

T-shirt: Urban Outfitters

Purple tank top: Target

Pants: Gap

Shoes: Sperry's

Rio Rita + A Few Tips On How to Tip a Waiter

The first place I ever went in Austin was Rio Rita, near 6th street in East Austin.  This, of course, is if I don't count the few trips to Highland Mall I've made with my step-sisters on our regular day-after-Christmas-pilgrimage to Austin for the past few years that we've been a family.  Rio Rita was my first night out in Austin, where I met Eirik before going to watch him host the weekly poetry slam down the street at the Scoot Inn.     

The website claims that it is a "swanky lounge" at night, and this is an accurate description.  I really didn't feel cool enough to be there, nor have I ever since then, but the bloody Mary's (also known as mini-salads) are so damn good that I'm going to keep wearing my hipster cloak so I can sneak in.  If I could present the drool that just filled my mouth when I typed out the words "bloody Mary" as evidence, then you'd know that Pavlov didn't lie, and neither do I.  They are fan-freaking-tastic, but will burn you like a scorned ex-girlfriend, so chase it with water if you're a wimp like me. 

In thinking about restaurants, I wanted to post a few notes about proper tipping etiquette, as I don't feel these rules have been shared with enough people.  When I made my first trip to Rio Rita, I was surviving off my tips as a waitress at the Killeen Bennigan's, since I'd left my job of teaching high school kids to read real good so that I could move here.  And when I say "surviving off tips," I really mean stuffing my pockets with nickels so I'd make a cool jingly sound when I walked, then bumming actual dollars off my friends and family so I could eat, (thanks guys). 

So, in the spirit of the holiday season, exorcise your inner scrooge, and follow my tipping guide to make sure that you aren't short-changing any of the gracious wait staff you encounter at your favorite eateries:

Rules for Tipping Like You Care About Human Life:

1) Tip 20%.  This is not difficult to figure out.  10% = moving the decimal place over ONE SPOT.  For example, if your bill is $17.83, then 10% is $1.78.  Now double this to get 20%.  And if you either don't know how to add in your head, or want to double insure that you aren't a jerk, then ROUND UP to the next whole number.  So your final tip should be either $3.60 for the thrifty diner, or man up, and tip a full $4.00.  That waiter probably spent at least an hour tending to your table.  Don't you think he or she at least deserves 4/hour for their time?

2) TIP FOR THE WHOLE BILL.  Not the discounted bill.  Not minus what you sent back.  Not the cost after coupon.  So this rule should be broken down into three parts:

         a) You didn't like something and the cost was deleted.  Tip as if the price were still on the bill.

         b) You ordered something and exchanged it for something else.  That's double the work.  And in both this scenario and the one above, your server has to track down the manager, display the rejected dish, explain the reason for the send back, get the manager to delete the charge from the bill, (tracking down a manager can be like hunting wildabeasts in New York), explain to the cooks what was wrong, wait on the new dish in neglect of other tables so it can be brought back ASAP, and then the waiter must be really apologetic as though it were their fault you didn't like the dish they had no hand in making. 

        c) You had a coupon.  20% off.  Kids eat free.  Whatever.  Tip as though you didn't have it. 

3) Keep in mind that your waiter is not: the cook, the bar tender, or the manager.  Your waiter has no control over how long the food takes to make, how it tastes, or how long it takes for your drink to come up at the bar.  Do not punish the waiter because the kitchen staff and/or bar staff is slow. Note: it is also not the waiter's fault if the dishwasher quits at the beginning of shift, and no food can come out until all of the backed up dishes have been cleaned so there's a fresh plate to serve your dinner on.

4) At most restaurants, your waiter will tip out the host, the kitchen staff, and the bussers.  That means that 3% of your $4 tip does not stay in his or her pocket.  Most hosts only get this 3% as their pay.  I once busted my butt filling in as a host for a four hour shift and only made $20.  Mad?  Indeed I was.  Let's not even talk about how much my master's degree cost.  $20 bucks for four hours?  Grumble grumble.

5) $5 is not the universal tip for a large bill.  Don't look at your $45 dollar bill and think that throwing down a fiver is decent compensation because five bucks to you seems like a lot of money.  Do the math.  20%. 

Eirik accusing me of leaving dishes in the sink at home.  This is why we eat out.  And tip well.  Dirty dishes are gross, especially other people's.