Basically, I'm controlling myself from buying a new TV. Mine did this--thing? Where it stopped working? There are like, two others in the house, but they are not *mine* and though in fact, I only used mine for a.) watching QaF DVDs b.) watching Farscape DVDs, c.) watching SGA--wait. It was Fangirl and Child's Playstation TV, with a scary number of s-cords and random hookups abounding. It was where Child and I crashed on my bed and acted three years old. It was the first major appliance I ever bought all on my lonesome.
So. No TV yet. Because the one I want is the one at Frye's, that is kind of in that price range usually reserved for people who aren't me.
On the third hand, SGA starts in two weeks. Hmm.
On the fourth hand, plane ticket to be bought this month. Huh.
Early Afternoon Adventures
So, on the way to Central Market, witnessed a girl with major cojones chase down a mustang that put a serious ding in her back fender. And by chase down, I mean, all the way to the stoplight, got *out* of her car, towered *over* the guy's car, and basically bullied him right out to give his information.
Let me say again--this may be just me, but I'm not sure *I* could chase down two adult males after they made their escape from dinging up my car and *scare* them into giving their insurance information. Right on, Random Austin Girl. May your premiums never go up.
Anyway, invaded CM, bought a pound of Cherry Chocolate Cordial and La Vida Dulce, added small amounts of Cherry Blossom, something else, and Chocolate Creme. I'll report on the tastiness when tried. Basically, I spent most of the journey between CM and Parmer clutching the coffee to my chest and making soft sounds at it. To say I love it is an understatement of epic proportions. Did some grocery shopping, got a grill for Dad, bought more lettuce for the Warren, and cookies. Mmm. Cookies. And some other stuff that isn't as interesting as cookies.
Random Moment Off I-35
We stopped at a light before taking our exit back to Lamar. For those who live in Austin, you know exactly how hot and thick it is; breathing is like being trapped in a sauna, and the sky keeps making weird swirly motions like it wants to rain. If you don't live in Austin, thank God fasting. This isn't the hottest it's been, or that it's going to get, but it's not terribly pleasant. Loaded down with food and grills and lettuce and omgmycoffee, we stare blankly at the light and study the people around us.
We're those kind of people. We get bored easily.
Behind the guardrail is a small swarm of activity of two mid-twenties males and a ten year old kid in summer khaki and what looks like one or more styrofoam coolers. Usually, in this area, we might occassionally see a few panhandlers or random advertising people, but not often, and one emerges carrying three deargodisthat*iced*?Dr. Pepper cans and walking to cars. Goat'eed guy ducks back over the rail with Ten Year Old and does something archaic with cooler lids.
Mom looks mournfully at her hot, flat leftover Dr. Pepper and rolls down the window to ask how much. We're those kind of people. We buy soda from the side of the road. The slimmer of two guys come over with a hopeful smile and Mom opens her mouth to ask the price.
"Free pop," he said, smile widening, before Mom could get a word out. Leaning over, he cheerfully shoves two ice cold Dr. Peppers in the window and into Mom's surprised hands, dripping crushed ice into her lap and the seat.
Pop. Hmm. Northern boys.
"Why?" Mom asked, because--seriously. Why?
"I'm practicing generosity," he says, jogging backward for a second and tossing us the widest grin I've ever seen. Then he takes off to the next car and Mom stares at our acquired sodas in amazement. We're those kind of people. We don't often believe in things that come without a price.
We watch them go from car to car, skidding between three lanes and racing the red light, offering up soda and happy smiles on a miserably hot day. Some people refused to so much as look at them, standard operating procedure on intersections with people on foot. Others rolled down their windows, asking the same thing we did, taking the offered kindness with thanks of their own, and then the light changed as they scrambled off the asphalt to watch us pass until the light turned red again.
I'd like to be those kind of people, I think.