The hens at 3 weeks

In order of appearance: Zenobia, Cotton, Lightning Bolt, Doña Quixote. Photos taken September 6.

Meet the chicks

These four have been wonderful! Allow me to introduce you to the feathered ladies of Austin (with breed indicated for you poultry geeks out there):

"Zenobia" (Barred Plymoth Rock)"Cotton" (Barred Plymouth Rock)

"Lightning Bolt" (New Hampshire Red)

"Doña Quixote" (Ameracauna)

These were taken when the chicks were just a few days old and living in a plastic tub under the hotel room sink. They have since grown an astonishing amount and are currently living well in a "chicken tractor" we constructed from scrap wood. Stay tuned for pictures of it, and more updates on the urban poultry front.

Tale of a move

From dawn until dusk three days in the middle of August, Lisa and I could be found hurtling* eastward on Interstate 10 a few yards ahead of our belongings. These were piled into a peeling trailer reminiscent of the Joad family. We did it backwards from the Oakies, out of California and east through the deserts to Austin. Read on for details.

Sunday, August 14 (T minus 4 days)

Anyone who attended Friday's soiree at 7th Ave knows that my original departure date was just ridiculously unrealistic, what with all the beer-drinking and taco-housing to be done. Thanks to (in order of appearance) Kate, Marisa, Erik, Atiya, Michelle, Phillip, J. Higgins, and Ben for sending me off right that night. The next day I was sufficiently panicked to get some packing done, but ultimately decided to postpone leaving until Sunday. Through all these schedule changes Gabe stuck with the plan to accompany me to L.A. He was there to help me fetch the trailer from the mountain man in Ramona weeks before and he was there for the first white-knuckle leg of the trip with trailer loaded. We arrived at Chateau Gulesserian, made several hilarious attempts to back the trailer in (blocking traffic on Longden Avenue for a good while), and after finally succeeding took Gabe to his final destination -- somewhere over some hill, I don't know, L.A. is confusing, but there was a nice view. By this time it was past midnight and time for sleep!

Monday and Tuesday, August 15-16 (T minus 3-2 days)

These days are indistinguishable in memory. There was lots and lots of sweaty packing. I was responsible for packing the Subaru, which I did pretty darn well. Not an inch of unused space and zero visibility, as it should be. Michael D. made me very happy by visiting one night. Lisa's mom was the warm funny lady she always is. Lisa's cousin and aunt visited a lot, too. One night we had dinner at Nene's ("nay-nay"), which is what you call Lisa's grandma if you're in the know. Keiri also visited. I did not end up seeing my dad in El Segundo. Wednesday was our original departure date, but by Tuesday night it was clear we needed another day.

Wednesday, August 17 (T minus 1 day)

The great thing about today was that, thinking we were going to leave in the morning, we already had everything packed. Seta and Lisa had made quick work of the trailer and it was packed to the brim and everything was neatly held down with a tarp. Nothing to do but finishing touches, and plenty of rest to be had.

Thursday, August 18 (Liftoff)

The car is packed, the trailer is hitched, we are ready to hit the road! But the car doesn't start. AAA is called, my battery is bad, it is replaced. In a stroke of luck that still leaves me a bit breathless, the mechanic notices that our trailer tires are inadequate, having cracked sidewalls (I didn't even have a clue that this constituted tire damage). It would have been pretty likely that one would blow during the trip. Thank you. So we made our exit amidst much hugging and crying on all sides and our first stop was a tire shop. Trailer tires replaced super fast (with a crazy air jack that lifted the whole thing --fully loaded!-- right off the ground like it was nothing), and confident in our rig, we finally got on I-10. This road that was to be ours for the next three days.


The biggest hills of the trip were right out of Los Angeles. I was worried. The Subaru is trusty but I'd never pulled a loaded trailer up a steep grade in desert heat. Remember, this is car is hardly a tower (the hitch and electrical plugin were both attached manually by yours truly). I put it in low gear, gritted my teeth, and wished for the best as we ascended.

And everything was fine! Over the summit with barely a tremble in the oil temperature gauge. We didn't even really burn all the much gas, considering the load. I took it as a good omen and felt confident as we cruised through Phoenix, a spectacular nighttime thunderstorm, and finally pulled off at a motel in Tuscon.

Friday, August 19 (Day 2 of trip)

Expecting Arizona's university town to have some charm, we checked out downtown before hitting the road that morning. Alas, it was mostly parking lots and the U. itself looked a lot like Niketown in Irvine.


This was our first full day on the road and all that asphalt under the tires was a bit hypnotic. New Mexico had some pretty vistas, red rock and lush greenery. We stopped off at a historic Old West sort of town and enjoyed the Mexican ambiance of the big sandstone central plaza. Lisa noticed a memorial to "the unborn" on the steps of the cathedral.


By late afternoon we were passing twixt the celebratory spiky-things marking the border of Texas. The clouds parted and we were greeted by a rainbow and the ringing of trumpets (two of the previous three claims are true). Of course, this didn't mean we were anywhere near our final destination. El Paso is only half way! The bigness of our new state really set in. Sobering as the thought of another day and a half on the road was, El Paso was still fascinating to drive through. Its downtown shares the banks of the Rio Grande with the infamous Mexican maquiladora town of Ciudad Juarez. San Diego borders Mexico, sure, but by comparison, it and Tijuana feel totally discontiguous. Imagine instead the San Ysidro crossing at Petco Park. Driving along the banks of the slender river in El Paso, the mirror image of the city scarcely yards away on the other side is Mexican land. It is much harder to avoid (or ignore) the presence of our neighbor than in downtown San Diego.

El Paso was the last real town we were to see until Austin. For travelers going east, it marks the threshold of that surreal emptiness that is West Texas. A speck of a town called Van Horn --just motels, a Mexican restaurant, and lots of nailed up plywood-- materialized sometime around dusk. We pulled off. Some motels' marquees boasted "American-owned"; we didn't want to know what sort of hateful nonsense that was supposed to mean, and, being generally suspicious of our fellow Americans, we picked one staffed by some o' them job-gobblin' im'grints. Darn tootin'.

Saturday, August 20 (Day 3 of trip)

From Van Horn to the Hill Country (the thin strip of pretty bisecting Texas; about an hour out from Austin) there is nothing to report. I tell you, West Texas is just empty. An hour or so after having left I-10, around evening, we found Fredricksburg. Its a cool little town doing its best to stave off Walmartization. Dinner (Italian food! Civilization!), quick walk, back in the Subie for the last hour to Austin. It was more eventful than expected. Austin itself was somehow avoiding rain but was surrounded on all sides by a wall of thunderstorm. Soggy, we arrived. We were in our new city.


* Actual speed: 50 mph