Frisky Frontier

Lubbock's Ranching Heritage Center, where the attractions include an assortment of windmills, offers a display of countless varieties of spurs. The aptly named "Gal Leg Spur" is made to resemble a lady's leg, complete with stocking and high-heeled boot. Saucy!

Entering America

A hot ticket in Lubbock is the First Fridays Art Tour, where free shuttles ferry the public between art galleries and everyone gets to drink local wine and talk about pottery. I particularly enjoyed a photography exhibit by a group who are trying to save local historic buildings. I bought this photomontage, which consists of pictures of the ceiling in one of the structures they are working on preserving. It's called "Entering America". It's in my home office.

Babel

The other night I was at the Drive-In, when a couple of kids in the snack bar line asked me what was playing on Screen 2. I told them that it was Inglourious Basterds. They asked "What's that about?" Poor things didn't know who they were talking to. I have spent quite a bit of time this summer thinking about what Inglourious Basterds is about, so the question made me pause. After several seconds it occurred to me that they weren't looking for a 90 minute lecture on postmodernism, German film history, cinephilia, historical representations of the Golem, and female subjectivity in film, so I tried to simplify:

Me: It's a Quentin Tarantino movie about Jewish American soldiers in WWII who go to Europe to kill Nazis.

Kid 1: So, it's in Spanish?

Me: .... (Silence with confused expression)

Kid 2: (To Kid 1) No, stupid, Nazis speak German!

Me: (Regaining composure) There are several languages in the film, but Spanish is not one of them.

Kid 2: So is it good?

Me: Yes...it's wonderful, but shocking.

Kid 1: Um, ok.

I know that kids these days don't know anything, but, SPANISH?

Terror of Tiny Town

A significant proportion of the Lubbock dog population consists of teeny tiny dogs. Chihuahuas dominate the teeny-tiny-dog social scene, and they rule my neighbourhood with an iron paw. My favourite is a black and white one who I call Napoleon. He patrols the block every morning, strutting down the street with a megalomaniacal confidence. Indeed, many of them roam free, and Mollie and I are frequently accosted when we run afoul of their local bylaws. Mollie's response is to look at them with a measure of disdain, as if to say "You call yourself a dog?" I try to befriend them, which is sometimes effective, sometimes not.

These tiny terrors are difficult to photograph because of their speed and lack of mass, and the one-second delay on my digital camera gives them ample opportunity for escape. I was able to capture this tough guy by peeking through his fence.

I was also amused by this found dog poster - the painted toenails in particular. Actually, this dog looks a lot like Napoleon, which may offer a clue as to her origins.

Double Entendre

Am I right that this is (unintentionally) hilarious? I wonder what kinds of calls Rodney Hardy(!) receives for his Rent A Man services. I feel like calling to ask exactly what "Etc." covers. Note the "drug free" promise over the wheel. I am intrigued by the warning "Beware...Rent A Man Country".

The Stars at Night are Big and Bright

The other night, Mollie was extremely restless. She kept pacing around the house, panting loudly, staring at me, and pawing at my leg. We had just been for a long walk, so she wasn't wanting for exercise or a constitutional, and she had eaten recently, so it wasn't starvation. I opened the back door, and she immediately hustled outside and sat in the yard, looking up toward the moon. I thought "Ok, Mollie, are you going to howl at the moon now?" I went outside to see what she was on about, and looked up to see the Perseid meteor shower. I followed her example and lay down on the grass to watch the shooting stars.

Good dog.

Tasty Treats

I've been discovering the local delicacies of West Texas. For example, when I was coming home on Sunday, my cheerful neighbour shouted across the street "Allison! I have something for you!" She scurried to her backyard and emerged with a bunch of grapes. They were tiny and delicious. She explained that next year she's going to sew mesh drawstring bags to protect the grapes from ravenous birds.

There's a decent grocery store chain in town, but living on the frontier means that some things I took for granted back East, like cheap unripe mozzarella and goat cheese, are less accessible here. You can get buffalo mozzarella, but for 10.99 for one modestly sized ball. So, I started to look around for alternatives, and discovered some swell Mexican cheeses that can do the trick. Here we have some queso fresco, posing alongside a tomato from the recently-established farmer's market:

Finally, I have the good fortune of living a short walk from a bakery that produces only cupcakes. They have a different selection every day, and the mini ones are just right if you want something sweet but deem it unwise to have a cake in the house. They have flavors including pink lemonade, red velvet, chocolate mint, chocolate with peanut butter interior, and good old vanilla. They also have a lot of strawberry cake around here - I was skeptical, because my experience with strawberry-flavoured things (as opposed to actual strawberries) has been universally negative. However, I took a risk on a strawberry cupcake, and it was darn good. Must be something in the water.

Carrot cake and strawberry, with local apple butter in the background.

Two chocolate options: on the left, with a core of peanut butter ganache, on the right, chocolate mint.