S. and I had a great weekend that included yesterday's hike along Lost Creek. It was cool and drizzly so we had the trail mostly to ourselves. We decided the water was low and warm enough to wade across so S. could get some pictures of the bluffs. Just to give you an idea of the height difference between us: I rolled up my capri pants and still got soaked almost up to my ass; S. was wearing shorts that barely got wet along the cuffs. Stupid tall people and their dry pants. Bah!
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Today I spent some time at the Austin History Center researching our house and environs. I didn't find out anything too interesting, but I am going back later this week to have a peek at some census information and fire atlases. I did find out our street didn't have a name until 1962; until then it was just part of some unincorporated ranch property. I also found out that the park near our house was built on part of an old cemetery, which, because I've seen one too many Steven Spielberg movies, kind of creeped me out.
While there, I took some time to read a pamphlet about O. Henry, who had a sordid early life in Austin that included embezzling money from his banker-employer and then fleeing to Honduras (as his wife lay dying) to avoid prosecution. He did some time in a federal prison in Ohio and then moved to New York where he found fame as a writer. Never trust a writer, kids...they tell lies for a living...
The History Center itself is small but remarkably well-organized with useful directories and plats and all kinds of stuff that makes a dork like me giddy. I was, in fact, rather hyper when S. came by to get me...we walked through the center's current exhibit of Austin poster art and then he wisely took me out for a huge, sedating Vietnamese lunch.
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S. and I have decided our house is haunted; I will spare you the details because they are based more on impressions and feelings than anything else...although last night we really freaked out because we both suddenly smelled coffee brewing. (If it was only me who smelled the coffee we could have chocked it up to the late-night cravings of a hopeless junkie) 'Twas a strange experience...
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In other news: See ya later, race hater. Sorry you can't run that delightful church of yours out of your dad's basement anymore, but I'm sure when you meet your black cell mate you'll have all kinds of neat stuff to write home about!!
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S. and I are coveting just about every house in the Travis Heights neighborhood and have taken to driving through there quite a bit, dissing owners' color and gardening choices and dreaming about what we would do better if "that were OUR house"... I think Fox should offer us a reality show where we do just this. I mean it.
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Okay, I think my insomnia is waning as I read back through this tedious entry...and so I bid you good night.
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