Drove to Austin today to pick up my youngest son, who was on a campus visit to UT. Then we went to my oldest son's apartment to load his worldly goods (i.e. books and dirty laundry) into my car to haul home. My oldest will ride home on the bus this week, then buy a used car, and load his worldly goods, plus his computer, and minus dirt in the laundry, to drive off to grad school in Indiana. My middle son has been scoping out used cars for his brother to buy. He's really good at it, should you happened to need a used car scoper.
Anyway, my youngest wanted to have lunch at Freebirds in Austin to see whether the new Freebirds in Dallas offers the same aesthetic and economic experience as the original in Austin, or some such thing. This son currently intends to study photography in college, but when he was younger he wanted to buy a restaurant franchise. Much younger, he wanted to be a hotel designer.
So we found Freebirds in a small mall with a Sears and a HEB grocery store. We stood in line to order giant burritos to our personal specifications. Steven was expounding on menu, ambience, and price differences. My personal burrito creator was working very hard to avoid any onions in my ingredients that could trigger my allergy. AND, the guy behind me in line was over sixty years old, with gray Jesus hair, the veiny body of a carnival ride operator, and a tattooed third eye. His girlfriend was a Rubenesque underdressed goth twenty-year old. All this was just a beautiful day in the neighborhood. A beautiful day for a neighbor. Could you be mine? Would you be mine? Won't you be my neighbor?