OK, first some background for this post.  Bug is a big MU fan.  Andy’s been singing the Missouri fight song to her since before she was born.  She especially likes the “Hooray, Hurrah” part.  She also loves it when he wears his bright yellow Mizzou T-shirt (which is practically every Saturday), and she got him an MU polo shirt for his first Father’s Day present.  She even has an MU T-shirt of her own.  So we should have known, perhaps, that she would not take kindly to being carried deep into enemy territory this weekend.

It wasn’t the first time she’d been on the UT campus.  I took her with me to drop my summer class about a month ago, and she and Andy and I went up to the academic center last weekend to try to get my ID (only to find that it was closed).  And hey, she’d attended class at UT during her last two months in the womb.  So this weekend, when I had to buy textbooks for my classes this semester, we never thought she’d object to making it a family outing.

We drove up to UT and circled around for a long while with nowhere to park before finally settling on a spot about 3/4 of a mile from the University Co-Op.  It wasn’t terribly hot today, so Andy took her in the Baby Bjorn and she seemed to enjoy our hike through campus, even cooing and laughing at passing college students.  Once we got to the bookstore we went straight to the textbook section, and that’s where she really got excited — her eyes sparkled as she looked at all those books!  But unfortunately for her, I found what I needed quickly and easily, and we headed back up to the main level to pay.

And that’s when Bug’s Tiger resolve broke down.  We emerged from the textbook section into a commotion of burnt orange, both on the sale racks and on the customers.  Longhorns were stampeding everywhere in sight, and there was every kind of Texas merchandise you could think of, from car decals to kitchen towels.  As we made our way through the orange-clad crowd, Bug got more and more distressed.  We think it may have been the sight of a burnt orange umbrella stroller embroidered with white longhorn symbols that was the final straw.  Bug looked around, panicked, crinkled up her little face, and howled.  Andy hurriedly found the exit and went to stand outside with her in the shade.

When I finished paying for my textbooks and went outside to join them, Bug was happily looking at cars go by on Guadalupe; as soon as she escaped the burnt orange atmosphere of the Co-Op, she was fine.  We can only guess that despite being born in Texas, she really is a True Bug.

It’s a beautiful cool, gray, rainy day, the type of summer day I always liked as a kid because it meant I could stay curled up in my room and read all day.  The type of day we don’t get in Austin very often — the type of day I’ve really missed.

And best of all, we’ve broken our streak of hot weather!  The air conditioner actually shut off for a while today.  It’s the first day since late May under 90 degrees, and we’re supposed to stay like that for most of the week.

It’s official (I’m a little late — it was actually official Tuesday): we’ve suffered through the hottest June on record. So far, there have been 44 straight days with temperatures above 90 degrees; 22 of those days have been 100 or above. On top of this, we’ve received next to no rain since May. Our yard looks like straw. The plants in the pots on our driveway are dying or dead, despite Andy’s diligent watering (whenever we’re allowed; water restrictions are in effect). Several pecan trees on my bus route are wilted, and the leaves are starting to shrivel. It’s got to be terribly hot and dry when even the trees are feeling it.

Needless to say, the Bug and I don’t leave the house much. On the days when I go to work, I pick her up from day care at about 2:00, and I try to be very careful to limit our exposure to the heat and sun at the bus stop and on the walk home. It can’t be comfortable for her to be in the Baby Bjorn in 90+ degree heat — I know it’s not comfortable for me! We’ve been lucky so far. The buses are air conditioned and are usually on time; the five-minute walk from the stop to our door has been mostly shady. But still, I have been dreaming of those idyllic Midwestern summers I used to take for granted: green grass, deep shade, and cool, linden-scented nights.

For those of you coming down from more hospitable climes in a few weeks for the Bug’s baptism, I do apologize.  Pack your summeriest clothes and plenty of sunscreen; we’ll make sure there’s lots of iced tea for you.

I was just looking at my Columbia, Missouri photoset on Flickr when it struck me that Austin, at least the area where I live, is comparatively poor in good graffiti. Columbia had great scribbles and scrawls, some of which showed insight or artistic talent; some not so much. I’m glad to see others appreciate it as well.

I used to like to walk around downtown and take note of the best of the graffiti, and right before I left town I took pictures of a few. The best of all I never did get to document: it was at 9th and Cherry, a huge scrawl across the wall of what was then Glenn’s Cafe: “PLASTIC, MUST YOU CONFORM?” Punctuated correctly and everything. The wall was painted over when Glenn’s went out and the building became a Nothing But Noodles franchise.

Sigh. I realize that a lack of graffiti likely means that my part of town is relatively free from organized criminal activity, and that most people don’t appreciate youths with spray paint cans. And I certainly would be angry if someone defaced my house, or my fence, or my bus stop. But yet… good graffiti can certainly contribute to an interesting cityscape, on mental and visual levels.