Iron Cactus

Austin is the only blue city in Texas; the only city that voted against dubbya. I guess it comes as no surprise that it’s the first city I’ve seen in Texas that somewhat resembles cities in California or the east coast. The architecture, the diversity, the nightlife, proximity to fun stuff like the natural caverns of San Marcos. Chad’s girl, Michelle, lives here. I’ve hung out with her a couple times back home; she serves as a shining example of what this city, indeed all metropolitan areas of this state, are becoming. Progressive, freethinking individuals who succumb less to the “Republic of Texas” mindset, and more toward the “world-economy” trend. I like it. I’ll admit, my time in Austin was a fleeting moment of intimacy at best, however, I walked away confident I’d at least found the best margarita in town. Iron Cactus on 6th serves upwards of 20 styles of agave nectar alongside some dern-goood seafood enchiladas. Atmosphere is modern/industrial minimalist inside a circa-1870 brick/mortar on 3 floors with a big patio up top… dig it.

So, it’s been a while since I’ve written. Sorry, folks. I was doing some math earlier this week. These are guesses at best, but I think over the last 2 months, I’ve spent approximately 100 hours in my apartment. Half of that was last weekend. From early May to early September, I’ve counted just shy of 40 flights on my schedule (yes this includes all those short-hop connectors). I’ve been busy for most of my life, but never this busy. Frankly, sometimes it’s just freakin nuts, and I fear I’m losing friends over it. I’m just thankful I have a bed in my place now, so coming home is more of a pleasure than a chore. In any case, I’m writing now, waiting for a flight, during the first chunk of relaxing down-time I’ve had in a few weeks. Yay.

Last weekend, James and I turned the apartment upside down. I hardly recognize the place. It’s clean now for the first time since 1995. I remember when my brother lived there, I’d visit for a night during Blue-Devil camp. The place was dusty then, and since that time, I sincerely believe there was never any serious effort toward a thorough cleaning until last weekend. I submit exhibits A through F as evidence; each similarly sized dust-bunnies extracted from various corners of the apartment, and each completely engulfing a dust-pan. I think James was genuinely grossed out a few times. I won’t go into detail about the grease on the stove-hood. So, we’re well on our way in developing a home of which we can be somewhat proud. More importantly, I don’t have to be [as] embarrassed about the place in front of Lolita. To her credit, however, she was very lo-key about it all. I’m sometimes amazed at how cool this girl is. I mentioned to her last week she has the looks and brains of someone who could be so much more demanding of a boyfriend… she liked that one. :-)