One month in Austin (makes a hard man crumble)

(by Lazlo)

We made it to Austin. Our stuff didn't break. Chet/Barton and I went on an epic voyage of the road while Baby and the girls flew to Austin. Our friends (Chet, Rupert, David and Meredith, Jessie, and others) were amazing in helping us pack our stuff. There were only a few minor hitches, such as discovering on the morning of the move that our front tires both needed to be replaced, and not finding Baby's ID.

Two things I learned from this move: (1) It's not that hard to fly with no photo ID, and (2) it's also not that hard to get a security pass to escort somebody to the gate.

Living in Austin is actually really good. I kind of thought we were going to hate it here -- that it wasn't going to live up to the hype of five years' anticipation. But it's good. I like the weather, specifically the variation: the humidity, clouds, and rain. There are still days and windy days, and when it rains, it doesn't ruin the roads, and people have some vague idea how to drive over 25 mph without fishtailing all over and ramming other cars. (Unlike LA, where a slight mist would cause all traffic to grind to a halt.) My job is good but not great. I enjoy the work and the organization has a mission I like being a part of, but I'm thinking pretty seriously about getting stuff together to apply for teaching jobs, with the goal of starting in the fall. Of course, it's also great to be back around our family and our Austin friends.

The girls have done really well with the move. Wren loves being around all our Austin family, especially her four- and seven-year-old cousins. Her favorite activities since Christmas have been (1) playing with her doctor kit (she's learned the words stethoscope, otoscope, and sphygmomanometer) and (2) playing with her new kitty cat tent. She's also been making up songs lately. Her most recent one goes like this (to the tune of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star):

Jane is doing well, too. She hasn't seemed to notice that we moved. She likes looking at things (especially Wren, who really cracks her up), laughing, grabbing things, holding onto things with her tiny death grip, and (as of this week) turning over. She doesn't like being put down or having her diaper changed.

Our new apartment is nice. It's on a bus line that goes to my office, and I'm really enjoying the daily bus ride. I have time to read that I would probably otherwise just sleep through. The bus and being out of school are very good for my reading habits -- I'm mostly through three or four non-fiction books and I just started That Hideous Strength on Baby's recommendation. One of my two new year's resolutions was to read one non-fiction book and one novel per month. The other one is proving difficult to keep, so I'm embarrassed to even mention it. Let's just say it's supposed to help me keep my Greek reading skills up, but I'm going to need to find another system. I digress.

Last night, Baby and the girls and I had dinner with some old friends of ours, along with Chet/Barton. It was a nice evening, but by the end of the night I had consented to doing a triathlon with my favorite octogenarian. I've always wanted to do a triathlon, and I thought Dr. Koenig (not his real name) would be a good person to do my first race with, being three times my age and all. After I had already committed myself, the details of his training regimen started to come out, and I'm starting to get worried. He has a Navy SEAL for a trainer, and the routine involves swimming and running with a SIX-FOOT LOG. Apparently he trains in the icy waters of Barton Springs. He was also recently edged out of some shotput competition by the 1952 Olympic gold medal winner. I am man enough to admit that I'm afraid.

There are other things going on -- Baby is sick, for instance -- but I've rambled enough here already. I'll make Baby write about all that.