So remember that recent post about being at home in Austin? Almost immediately after I wrote and posted it, something happened to change everything. Andrew got a job offer, which he's accepted, that will take us both to Seattle. The move comes soon--he's going in a few weeks and I'll go up after graduation (oh yes, I am planning to finish, finally).
Not sure what this will mean. We're looking forward to it, but we also have massive anxiety about the logisitics of the move (at least we're not doing the physical moving, thank goodness). And of course we're sad to be leaving here, where we've both lived for more than 10 years.
On the other hand, it's been almost 90 the last couple of days, and while the evenings have been picture-perfect, the daytime heat reminds us both of something we've never totally gotten used to here. Although I never felt like I let the heat get in my way, the prospect of living in a more temperate climate is very appealing. Plus there are mountains and sea up there.
There are lots of other things I'm thinking about all of this, but I expect I'll let them out in bits and pieces over time so that this doesn't become my Moving Anxiety Blog. On the other hand: does anyone have any advice for flying with a cat?
I saw my first highway bluebonnets today, a sure sign that spring has arrived. The other obvious indication is all the out-of-towners crawling around Austin lately. My involvement with SXSW is absolutely minimal: I'm only in it for the opportunity to catch up with "once-a-year" friends, and I've come to really look forward to it. I guess there's a bit of hometown pride involved; what does it mean that I consider Austin my home, finally, after ten years?
Well anyway. It's gorgeous down here right now. Y'all come.
This says that we'll be feeling the effects of the new hurricane sometime on Saturday. I'm worried, no sense in pretending I'm not, even this far away from the coast. I'm not sure how else I should feel or how to prepare. It's bizarre to know several days in advance what's coming your way, very ominous, especially when the current weather here is normal: sunny, hotter than is comfortable, the usual. It's scary, because you just have to wait. I grew up in a place where tornadoes happened every so often, and they continue to scare me badly, but they happen suddenly. Hurricanes? They lumber on the horizon for days, threatening. This is new for me.
EDIT: you'll see if you click the above image link that the storm has veered away from us to a path that's a lot closer to where the last one went. The immediate fear I was feeling has changed to something still insistent but with more distance: what happens if the same places get hit again?
Against my better judgement, I just had a look at the forecast for this week: 100+ every single day. And it's not even July yet. Clearly this is payback for last summer, when, if memory serves, we broke 100 only two times. Grumble. No rain in sight. I'm going to have to start watering the trees pretty soon...
The latest Fluent-Collaborative project, Rae Culbert's & Catherine Walworth's YUPPIE (Young Urban Proles), opens on Sunday at Testsite. From the manifesto statement, it sounds like they might turn Laurence's house into Rodchenko's worker's club. I'm looking forward to this one:
Communism is bread and butter to Texas, whose three Hill Country towns—New Braunfels, Fredericksburg, and Boerne to name a few—are the result of communist experiments by German emigrants. Germany’s aristocrats supported the emigration of dissidents to buff the sheen of their status quo at home, making Texas a penal colony of radicals.
You know it.
The latest Fluent-Collaborative project, Rae Culbert's & Catherine Walworth's YUPPIE (Young Urban Proles), opens on Sunday at Testsite. From the manifesto statement, it sounds like they might turn Laurence's house into Rodchenko's worker's club. I'm looking forward to this one:
Communism is bread and butter to Texas, whose three Hill Country towns—New Braunfels, Fredericksburg, and Boerne to name a few—are the result of communist experiments by German emigrants. Germany’s aristocrats supported the emigration of dissidents to buff the sheen of their status quo at home, making Texas a penal colony of radicals.
You know it.
Over at Grammar.police, a smart consideration of why a smoking ban in Austin bars is a necessary and good thing. And why it totally and completely sucks. From waaay over in DC, Kriston does a perfect job of capturing the conflicted-smoker viewpoint on this issue, and I totally agree with him on all points. Plus he's got the science.
There's one thing that sets the Austin situation apart from similar efforts to ban smoking, even in a place like DC: the weather. Lots of bars here have outdoor seating which is accessible most of the year, and which slightly (slightly!) mitigates the loss of atmosphere or comfort or coolness that results from prohibiting smoking inside. So far, Billy's on Burnet is the only place we go regularly that doesn't allow smoking inside, but this is because it has a full menu and is thus technically a restaurant. I have to admit that I like having my Shiner and fries with no smoke. Unfortunately, the outside seating at Billy's is sort of in the middle of the parking lot...not so pleasant for the smoking crowd. Much like at the Draft House, but even that is a little nicer.
It occurs to me now that what would take place in a smoking ban would be a reversal of my own bargoing habits since college (for most of that time), that is, as a very occasional pseudo "social smoker" I'd just automatically stay outside whenever possible to avoid the smoke and stink of the inside. The Showdown is my current case in point, because dude, you don't want to be in that air for more than the time it takes to get your beer.
p.s.: While I'm on the subject, I so can't stand that "don't like smoke? get a different job" argument that gets hauled out by smoking ban opponents and used on bar employees who'd rather not inhale second-hand smoke all night.
It's been raining like crazy around here for weeks now, but that just means that the wildflowers will be better in April. In the meantime, the mountain laurel is starting to bloom, which means that the air smells like grape juice. Sounds odd, but it's a beautiful smell until the flowers start to go south. Then it just smells stinky.
Other signs of spring: SXSW starts soon, which means seeing friends who come into town once a year.
And finally: not really spring-related, but this weekend we visited two pieces of Austin retail history. The new North Lamar Half Price Books which, I'm so so sorry to say, has "replaced" the store on Guadalupe (this is the saddest thing to happen in my extended neighborhood in some time). The new place is huge and beautiful, but like so much else, we can't walk to it.
And: the brand new, gigantic Whole Foods Headquarters. I cannot describe the scale of this store. It has at least three levels of underground parking, like an organic food Hall of Justice or something. It's really absurdly big, but I admit I had a blast there and can't wait to go back when there aren't sixty gazillion people milling around open-mouthed. Don't know when that'll be, though, because the novelty's not going to wear off quickly.
