Let me assure you that victory in these trying times requires guts, intelligence, and, most of all, cleaning your apartment. In this endeavor, I enlisted the aid of Cindi, who helped me spend 3 consecutive weekends in January at this task-- trust me, it was arduous and painful--but the results were very positive. To ensure continued cleanliness, I started bringing in a maid service once every two weeks.
With the ants' food supply (that is to say, Pop Tart crumbs and crumbled Rice Crispies in the carpet) now removed, the next step was their final annihilation. Borrowing a trick from the ancient Greeks, I used the old Trojan Ant technique. My friendly neighborhood grocery store sells little containers of ant food and arsenic. The ants happily carry off the food and the poison back to their nests, thus killing off their population, as well as their Queen, the mysterious monarch known only by her code name, "Ant B".
Austin may be the capital of Texas, but it exudes a self-image of hipness that one doesn't necessary associate with that state. This is partly due to its reputation as "The Live Music Capital of the World", and partly also due to its large influx of high tech industry. When I told people in Austin that I was from San Francisco, I frequently got a favorable comparison of our respective cities. "San Francisco and Austin are both cool places", one taxi driver told me. I didn't necessarily think that Austin was as cool as it likes to think it is. For one thing, no matter how cool it might be, it still resides in Texas. The memorial in front of the statehouse, which commemorates the brave Confederate cause of freedom against evil Northern aggression, can serve as a reminder of just where in North America I happened to be. That being said, the live music reputation is probably at least somewhat deserved. I am not talking so much about the nightclubs on 4th street, which are mostly rock and roll venues like you find in any city. Rather, I refer to the fact that it is apparently not uncommon to hear live music at family restaurants there. One night, Cindi and I had dinner at a barbeque place; after dinner, we were treated to a free concert by Sarah Elizabeth Campbell, a Texas folk singer who I had seen perform in Berkeley. I even owned one of her CDs. This was Austin at its best.
As for the reason we supposedly came to Austin--the comedy festival--the less said the better. With notable exception of L.A. Theatresports, the improv that we saw was almost universally bad. We did discover a wonderful sketch comedy group, the Bert Fershners, whose inspired silliness was the highlight of the festival.
As for the overall highlight of our trip to Austin, it was probably the bats. There is a whole colony of them--millions of them, literally--who live under the Congress Avenue bridge and who fly out at dusk to feed on the insects. A stream of millions of bats is not a sight you see in every American city.
Hmmm...I wonder if bats feed on ants?
When my bike was in working order, it was actually rather wonderful. There is a path in my neighborhood that runs along the beach, and on summer evenings, I often rode my bike along that path and watched the sun setting over the Pacific Ocean.
Cindi and I participated in a charity bicycling event, "The Tour de Peninsula". It is a ride, not a race--its motto is "No pain, no pain". That being said, it is impossible to participate in that ride without pain. The motto should have been, "No pain, no ride your bike". You can either ride 33 miles or take the 21 mile shortcut (we chose to ride 21), over hills that are not particularly moderate--one of them, dubbed "Mount Neverest", was notably , shall we say, challenging. To add insult to injury, the temperature that day was about 95 degrees (35 Celsius). But we did it--we rode the 21 miles. And I would do it again.