First impressions of Texas: cars, big cars, old cars, old big cars, then some trucks. With confrontational bumper stickers and gun racks? You betcha.
However, the weather is cool and grey - much more to my liking even if this is a temporary respite - and I feel much better, I promise, no really. And I'm not being facetious for once, the random flare of icktastic illness has abated. As predicted. Maybe I was just allergic to California? Shrug. These matters are beyond boring.
Unfortunately, this just means I can get back to all the neglected chores. In my impoverished rural youth I did not fully appreciate that a glamorous cosmopolitan lifestyle would entail so much . . . laundry.
Five weeks on the road? I can wash my unmentionables in a sink, but the boys need clean socks.
I bundled up all of our tatty garments and ventured down South Congress, where I found the Worst Laundromat in Known Universe.
Though the gentlemen living under the machines were quite polite.
Austin is a town full to the brim of clubs, coffee, conversation, dinners, friends, fun. . . in fact, there are so many things to do here I have officially run out of time, and this portion of the trip just started!
Somewhere in the manic schedule we managed to see Ann, a friend of Byron from infancy and now an interesting adult. She had many fascinating stories of their shared childhood, and also offered up insider tips on things to see and do.
The opportunity to shop in a place where the prices and aesthetic are close to my idea of sensible? I'm there. I had money in my pocket, and found all sorts of things I would have loved even a few months ago, but, surprise! I didn't buy anything. I didn't find anything I wanted!
Diligent efforts reveal I'm finished with vintage, but hate new clothes. What a conundrum.
My kid had more luck, though we're traveling strictly with carry-on luggage. I'm not quite sure how we'll transport antique ventriloquism dummies.