Comparative Musings: Part 596 in a 4,724-Part Series

There are of course a few things I do miss about Corpus. I miss my back patio - the cats loved it out there. I (kind of) miss seagulls wheeling in the sky and the way the whole city smelled like peppery beach grass after a good rain, even my parking garage at work. I miss Omar, and Denise, and Tricia, and Trent, just awfully. I miss the Eddie Olivares, Jr. (or was it Sr.?) jazz combo, which used to play at 21 Spirits on Saturday nights, with the cute stand-up bass player who so instantly spotted Margie and me as out-of-towners that, at the end of the song they were playing when we walked in, he announced our arrival over his microphone.* You can hear great jazz here in Austin, obviously - but you'll have to pay a cover and stand in a crowd, now won't you?

Other Corpuscles' loss was my gain. I miss 21 Spirits on Saturday nights largely because I didn't have to deal with a crowd and could find parking pretty close by. As far as decor and ambience goes, think Speakeasy's, only without the rooftop patio, and with significantly cheaper drinks.

They also apparently don't have a website, and neither does the band. Not real big into that newfangled Internet thingy, there, is Corpus Christi.

But there's just nothing to beat living in Austin, or more to the point, living in Travis Heights. Last night we didn't feel like cooking, so headed down to Fran's on South Congress for a quick burger. I never really thought about it before, but have you ever noticed how many 50's-themed burger bars are trying really hard to be what Fran's (or Dan's) just naturally already is? The place was full of a cross-section of nearby neighborhood residents and SoCoGoers, the jukebox was playing good music (until my husband got his filthy hands on it), and the food was just what it always is, which is a good thing.

Then we stopped at Vulcan Video on the way home. Does Corpus Christi have anything like Vulcan Video?

No. No, it does not.

It's not a bad life by any means, and I may have to be an apartment dweller for the rest of my days just so I can afford to keep living in Travis Heights.

I need to find a place with a patio, though.

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*This was a telling and common phenomenon in Corpus. One of the first things many people would say upon meeting Margie or me was, "You're not from around here, are you?" I'm not quite sure why, as I thought the general populace looked fairly normal. Perhaps I have a big label on my forehead that says "Pinko liberal commie atheist scum," which has heretofore always escaped my notice.