Dear Mother Nature

I know that Texas is experiencing its worst drought in fifty years and that even the trees are barely clinging to life. I know that Texas needs all of the rain that has been falling this week, thanks so much for that.

But my garage and driveway are not meant to be a wading pool (Zoe did seem to think that was pretty cool though):

But Charlie and I were not amused by having to move everything out of the garage and to the second floor We are kind of tired of moving stuff ya know.

So, Mother Nature, all this rain is really great for Texas; keep it coming. But this is just a quick note to say that a little sunshine now and then would be swell. My skin was finally beginning to turn a slightly darker shade of pasty white.  Besides, continuous clouds are kinda bad for morale.

Kind regards,

Alison

P.S. - Sorry about that whole global warming thing.

Dear TerraBurger

Where have you been all my life?

I knew there was something special about you, TerraBurger, from the moment I first glimpsed you standing on the side of that crowded highway. Hmm, I thought, I'd like to check that out.

When we finally pulled into your parking lot and saw the smiling, laughing children playing on your wooden outdoor playground, and frolicking around your sprinkler while their parents relaxed at your shaded picnic tables, I was even more intrigued.

Then, when I stepped up to your window, scanning your large natural menu up-and-down, and saw your organic burgers and your hand cut sweet potato fries – and then, your meatless salads, cane sugar-sweetened sodas, fair trade coffee and even vegan ice cream – my suspicions were confirmed.

I tried your veggie burger with avocado and a cream soda. They were delicious. Once satiated, I swooned a bit over your recycling bins, then left with my compostable paper cup. From that moment on, TerraBurger, I new I was hooked on you.

I love you, TerraBurger. I just can't help it. You are everything I have ever wanted in a fast food restaurant. Now, everytime I pass you on that road, your drive-thru beckons me seductively. I will meet you for breakfast – and maybe even dessert – soon. Until then. . . .

Devotedly Yours,

Alison

On Mayonnaise and Melodrama

"Um, so, Zoe, I don't think we're in Virginia anymore. . . . "

I went grocery shopping this morning at an HEB. HEB is a chain of local grocery stores headquartered in San Antonio and, in Austin, it's about as ubiquitous as the cactus plant. Their low-slung red brick buildings dot the dry urban landscape—okay, that's a bit dramatic, isn't it?.  But no, really, it seems like there is one of these stores every few blocks.There's probably an even more local option, but we haven't investigated them yet.

For you folks back home, HEB is kind of like Food Lion, in that their stores are actually grocery-store size rather than, say, shopping mall size. And HEB looks like a grocery store, with fluorescent lighting and linoleum flooring. No frills like track lighting, fancy cheese counters or wine sommeliers, here. No need to linger by the couter of gourmet patisserie-style treats, or stop by the hibachi grill or sushi station.

Nope, just: get in, get what you need and get out. (Though, I'm pretty sure that's not their official advertising slogan.) Shopping at the HEB is refreshingly simple when you want to buy groceries quickly. And my favorite part is that they put all the "alternative food'" (as my friend Sue calls it): like Amy's organic soups, tofu dogs and rennet-free cheese, right on the same aisles as the other stuff. There's no special segregated section for us crunchy-happy granola munchers, unlike certain grocery stores in Virginia.

We live within walking and biking distance of an HEB, and have only been there about six thousand times already. HEB would be perfect except for one thing: they don't sell Duke's Mayonnaise.

[Cue the really sad music. . . something a little bluegrassy. . . maybe with a fiddle. . . .]

 I don't even like mayonnaise, I just tolerate it in things like deviled eggs, and tuna salad. But on the rare occasions that I do buy mayonnaise, I want Duke's. Why? Because that's what my parents bought. It's what they put in their homemade Thousand Island dressing when I was a kid and in the afore-mentioned tuna salad and deviled eggs. And it's what my granny puts on ham sandwiches. Even if I don't like the way mayonnaise tastes, I find that jar with the yellow lid and the black-and-yellow label with the slanted, swirly script, comforting. And HEB doesn't have it.

Duke's is a Southern thing (I think that might actually be their slogan.) But maybe it's just not a Texas thing? (Or just not an HEB thing?) I've been so excited about all the cool things Austin has: (palm trees, cacti, restaurants with vegetarian food) that I haven't really noticed the things that are missing. Until now

And, so, standing in the condiment aisle at HEB this morning, I suddenly felt really homesick. I miss my family and friends, and I miss the undulating blue swells of the Appalachian Mountains – and the reassurance that the artifacts of my persoanl history, like Duke's mayo, are within arm's reach.

Update (4/20/2011): Was at HEB the other day and saw Duke's on an endcap. It reminded me of my grandmother, who passed away in 2009, and made me happy and sad at the same time.

And They're Off. . .

. . . to a really crappy start.

We went to The Hub for dinner last night. That wasn't the crappy part though.

The Hub is awesome. We went there because we read in the September issue of Austin Monthly that The Hub is "locally owned and dog friendly." So we brought Zoe along. The diner fare was good and the portions hearty, to say the least. They serve a veggie burger that's roughly the size of a crop circle, and a couple of other veg dishes. And the service was excellent; they were so nice to us. They even brought out a tennis ball for Zoe to play with and gave her a bowl of nice cold water.

(I'm going to leave out the part where Zoe was so excited to be in public that she ran around like crazy and completely ignored the tennis ball. And, when we called to her, she did her very best trick: pretending to be deaf; and then took a big ole dump right on the Hub's dog-friendly patio. So embarrassing..(And that is also not the crappy part, believe it or not.))

Zoe, Enjoying The Hub's Dog Friendly Patio 

No, the crappy part came this morning when, all excited to blog about our first official day of "living local in Austin," I asked Charlie what he'd eaten for lunch the day before.

"Um. . . a sub," he replied.
"Yeah? From where?" I was poised to hear about whatever cool local deli he'd discovered.
"Quiznos."
"Quiznos? I thought we were eating local?"
"Oh, crap. I forgot."

And then a big fight ensued.

Turns out that Quizzies are franchises, so they are at least kinda, sorta locally-owned. And being that this entire conversation took place before our morning coffee had finished brewing, which is not really a good time to discuss, well, anything with me, I probably overreacted just a bit.

But, see, yesterday, September 1 (the day that, in our house, will now probably forever be known as the Day Charlie Ate at Quiznos,)was actually our second first official day of living local in Austin. We started when we got here, about a week ago, and except for our hotel stay, we were doing really well at buying local. But we'd decided that we needed a do-over after last Sunday, when we made the mistake of trying to use the GPS to find a locally-owned pet store to get the kitties new collars and a wading pool for Zoe.*

After driving around for a while, and stopping at one place that had supplies for birds, fish, reptiles and dogs, but nothing for cats, we (and by "we," I mean Charlie) had a meltdown and ended up at PetSmart where we got what we wanted. We rationalized that going to the PetSmart was a greener option than driving around, wasting gas, looking for a local place. Buying local, especially in a strange city, is hard. Ever since we got here, at least once or twice a day, we'd be driving around and one of us would exclaim something like: "Oh, look. Dunkin Donuts!" and the other would then deflate that enthusiasm with something like: "Nope. Not local."

So what did we learn from this experience? That it's best to do research online first when trying to buy local. If only we had known about resources like the Austin Independent Business Alliance (IABA) web site: ibuyaustin.com then. In our defense though, we were a litte busy – what with all the packing and the moving and the house-hunting –  to research this whole buying local thing too much. But now we know. Here's hoping our future attempts at buying local will be a little less crappy.

*Rorschach already lost his collar and Zoe is terrified of the wading pool. She thinks it's an outdoor bathtub or something.