That's Right, I'm Not From Texas

Though I'm not sure but that Lyle Lovett didn't mean Austin when he wrote that song. I am now an Austinite, or whatever you call us, too as I have registered my car here and will have a new Texas driver's license Tuesday. Austin: It's not in Texas, it's surrounded by Texas. I had thought to maintain my Montana registration and get a Montana license in assertion of my rootedness (and legally because I own a residence there). But I love Austin. This was a good move--for all that moving and unpacking are a royal pain in my ass. I am... happy.

It's a late post today because I wanted to write about my surprise for Dave (and I needed to make sure I could pull it off). Right now I'm listening to Paula Cole, "Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?" and gleefully awaiting Dave's return to the family manse. You wouldn't think registering the cars in Texas with its attendant mandatory two-hour wait at the DMV (with another abortive hour and a half trying to get a Texas driver's license--but that's another story) would be a source of joy and glee, but there you are.

Dave's vehicular pride and joy is his mini cooper convertible. As a surprise for him for his birthday, I got him custom Texas plates. He used to have sticker on the window with the same phrase, but it faded and fell off. The plates are of a more permanent nature. I also got customized plates for the mini van as I got "Siyeh" (which I couldn't do in Montana--someone already has it on a permanent plate there).

Tomorrow Dave is gifting me with his time and focus, and we are going to slay a significant number of boxes and move the sunroom (fiber place) and the garage (glass studio) to the next level. We are also task rabbiting someone to help with the hundred 35-lb boxes of frit. I have till 11:00 am to finally figure out where they are going to go so our task rabbit can move and unload them all.

In the meantime I await the nightly return of the spouse with the family chalkboard all prepped.