Life As It Comes

Today only, in celebration of its tenth birthday, Opera is giving away free keys.

An undated Ansel Adams photo has been dated. That’s pretty amazing.

Kyle Orton will be the starting quarterback this season for the Chicago Bears.

Tonight I’m setting up camp at Mozart’s. A family has staked out this campground long before I arrived. Their dishes have nothing but plastic forks in them - the dessert has long-since vanished. They have set up their camp on one of the myriad picnic tables under a tree. They huddle around a small latern, not for warmth but for light. This family is enjoying the company of each other and of their small white dog over a game of cards, empty cups of coffee, and the lonely dessert plates.

A trio plays to entertain the patrons. Bongos, guitar, and vocalist color the conversation with melody. The water is still, the night is hot; some sit alone studying, working, waiting, watching, while others talk, laugh, or sit next to each other in relative silence as the music continues.

No one applauds the musicians, but a few leave appreciative tips as they leave to go.

A more electric and latin-flavored song fills the void from next door - complete with cowbell. The louder band is only barely drowned out by the trio here.

The family across from me has left, shortly after their dog wandered under my table and tangled her leash around the leg of it. Despite the calls of her family, she could not figure out quite how to get back to them. The mother came to unwind the dog, and the daughter apologized to me, assuming that the dog had bothered me.

The trio has abandoned their posts, seemingly after a mere two songs. A break already? The band next door plays “Cuantanamera.”

A group of five thirty- or forty-something Southeast Asian women have replaced the family. They chatter and laugh in their native tongue.

Two girls sit behind them leaning toward each other over the picnic table talking softly with soft smiles and gentle expressions. Earlier they held a camera away from themselves in order to take a picture of their evening together.

When I arrived, the line for drinks was long; the dessert line was longer. Perhaps it is time to wait for a drink. The hot, sticky Austin night does not feel at all comfortable to me. As I get up to obtain my refreshments, the trio resumes their music, this time with a latin flavor as well.

In line, I find a young couple - a baby-faced young man and his date. This must be an early date. He leans close to hear what she says, but leaves his arms folded across his chest and nods awkwardly to whatever remarks she makes. Another lady and gentleman join the line behind me. The woman plays tour guide and mentions that this establishment has local favorite Amy’s Ice Cream. The man takes note of the advertized build-your-own ice cream sandwhich. Select your favorite cookies and ice cream, and the friendly staff will combine them for you. The desserts look good, but the berries adorning many of them look better. I order a slice of cheesecake and the server, reading my mind, adds extra berries to my plate. The cheesecake and a bottled water complete my order. I nod hello to a staffer who commented on my Purdue shirt when I had ordered from him a few days earlier.

My picnic table remains unoccupied at my return. Dessert break. As I eat the trio play the third song in their new set. The blackberries and strawberries atop my cheesecake are delicious.

Field sends me an instant message to join him for Taco Cabana at 11 and calls me a wireless fool when I tell him I am not at home.

A woman sits at the table alongside mine with her boyfriend, cigarettes, and playing cards. Another couple join them, and the card playing commences.

Field continues to inform me that 11 is when they “fire up the taco factory.” I inform him that 11 is also when they fire up the breakfast menu. Field then tells me of his scheme to get Rudy’s to make fresh tortillas for their breakfast tacos as well, using the same machines. Field frequently has such schemes. If you meet him, ask him about the self-unfolding napkin.

Field convinces me to join him, so I must leave. Mozart’s is coming more alive. They could probably use my table. I pack up my laptop, take my water, bus my dessert plate and head out to meet him. The time is now 10:34. Have a good one.

Google Talk does not yet have a compelling reason for people to make the switch - except maybe the promise of free voice services. I’ve got my Gaim configured to use their server, but I don’t exactly have many buddies at this point. Thoughts?