Austin 9 Months In
My alarm goes off. I resist the strong urge to make it a lazy Sunday, though my larger cat makes a compelling argument by perching on my hip. A steaming plate of trash browns - tater tots loaded with bacon, queso, eggs, and peppers - awaits me at the end of a 9-mile group bike ride. After a week of invigorating yet long days at a local security conference, a Friday night out with former colleagues, and an ass-kicking pole class, my social battery is running a bit low, but the siren call of those warm cheesy tots lures me out of bed.
I pedal over to the coffee shop to catch the ride, breathing in the crisp 50-degree air reminiscent of those idyllic yet rare Midwest fall days. Instead of the autumnal scent of dried leaves, I catch a whiff of the Texas mountain laurels starting to bloom, their fragrance speaking of a winter that never came - and, oddly, artificial grape. Shit, I have not had nearly enough caffeine to be feeling this poetic about my adoptive city. As I approach Flat Track, catching a glimpse of Lady Bird Lake and feeling the sun on my face, one thought sticks in my head:
“First of all how dare the weather be this nice in the middle of January?”
Next weekend I’ll be back in the air… after an unusually high volume of travel this past fall, I’ve had six uninterrupted weeks at home and have savored every minute. Though I’ll never rid myself of the travel bug - staring at the scratch-off map on my wall and plotting future adventures always makes me smile - I feel less itchy since moving down here. (Well, except for that time I caught ringworm from a partner’s foster kitten - everything grows in a humid-subtropical climate, for better and for worse.) I just feel… comfortable in my surroundings.
Nearly nine months in, I’ve barely scratched the surface of everything Austin has to see and do. If I’m craving interaction - a growing need in the evenings since taking a remote job - I can easily find ways to go be social or at least be around people even when those closest to me are busy. If I need time alone, I can be alone with the backdrop of breathtaking scenery. The constant urge to leave that would nag at me after a few consecutive weeks in A2 (and occasionally Madison) just isn’t a thing here, at least not for now. For a place with four months of temperatures that could be measured in Scovilles, that contentment speaks volumes.
We ride up and down the Shoal Creek path after posing with the giant grackle sculpture in front of City Hall. The slight incline as we head back east makes the subsequent trash browns taste even more delicious. Sated, I pedal home and slip into a tater tot and cycling-induced nap.
People have been asking me how Austin has been treating me so far. This is how. It’s good to be home.
Oh, and I got bitten by a fire ant back in September.