Week, that’s right, a whole week. Now I am not overly patriotic nor did I have much planned in advance. It just conveniently worked out that while most people were on hands and knees thanking the one above for a three day weekend, my superiors graced me with a five day weekend, er, week.

Prologue: Wednesday evening started pleasurably with cocktails and free appetizers at The Lounge, next to Spaghetti Warehouse in the Warehouse District of Austin. I got to meet a few new people, most of whom work at Texas Monthly. After having known a lot of the staff at San Francisco Magazine, it’s actually kind of funny how magazine employees from different companies have a lot of similar traits. Same pressures, same structure I suppose. Anyways, that slowly turned into an after party (after meaning “after the free apps were gone”) which turned into Thursday.

Day One: Somehow, a large group of friends also had this day off and plans were made to go to Wimberley and play some disc golf. For five dollars we had unlimited access to their 36 holes. With a snack in the middle that was pretty much the day, 5-6 hours of sun and fun. Well, I did have fun but unfortuanately on the last 2 holes I managed to lose two discs in the same water hazard. Psychologically beat down, I was. The course is highly recommended all the same, and after 6 appearances they actually give you a free disc. Only 11 more games and I’ll break even on equipment!

Day Two: Friday was the prerequisite chore day: lawn, laundry, vaccuuming, cleaning, etc.

Day Three: Um, back up a day. I get a call from my grandfather asking if I could help with the heavy lifting to clear his girlfriend’s porch for the pressure washing. “No problem, what time do you need me there?” Always, ALWAYS, get details before you commit to help. So Day Three began at 7AM with a lot of physical activity under fairly humid conditions. Must reward self. Centro-Matic at The Parish seemed like a fairly decent remuneration for my early start. This won’t be a review for that show, but the opening bands were better than expected and seeing Centro-Matic live for the first time was well worth the $10 cover.

Day Four: Recovery and dinner with my grandfather and sister at Matt’s El Rancho.

Day Five: I guess it was really more recovery, but the more active kind. I’ve written about the beauty of the Hill Country this time of year, and I wasn’t let down by Krause Springs. Jaunting out west of Austin in the early afternoon we managed to keep driving just a little further than most on the day actually labeled Memorial. Just enough people to not feel crowded but enough to still run into Taggart, a good friend who I have very rarely gotten to hang out with since moving to California. The waterfall feeding the creek is a fantastic environment that you can completely relax in, until you get hungry or it gets dark. Or until Marty turns to me and asks if I could run sound for Jared Francis that night at Lucy’s. Memorial Day Week over, time to get back to the “real world.”

Sunday, the day of rest. Relaxation is at it’s best in Central Texas when the rivers start flowing and the sun begins to warm the hibernating masses.

Last Sunday was the first time that I have floated the Comal in New Braunfels in over three years. I caught the last gleam of sun in 2000 and floated the Guadalupe at the very end of the season on a week pass from San Francisco. Some things rekindle the spirits more than even your memories. Sitting in a tube with good friends as you pass the world by and soak in the nature bequeathed to us, the worries seem to slip off into the river and leave you refreshed. The free barbecue at Riley’s didn’t hurt either.

Wondering what was going to happen today as the big hand ticked away, Marty comes through the door with an announcement. “Get your bathing suit on!” An afternoon at the Greenbelt with Erin and Beth. The natural heart of Austin, the Greenbelt accumulates hikers, bikers, joggers, and loafers. We loaded up the dog and our stuff and drove off to meet Brandt’s playmate, Enzo. Splashing around in the rock strewn river, the dogs circled and jumped and swam. Their human counterparts took in the nature and laughed at the dog’s indescretions.

I’m not relegating nature days to Sundays but the past two weekends have really rejuvenated my spirits and reminded me what to really love about Central Texas, the nature of the area and the nature of our friends.

A bevy of both broadcast and cable networks, including FOX and NBC, are debuting new television programming over the summer. After the success of Who Wants to Be A Millionaire, American Idol, and the OC, which all debuted in the summer, execs seem to be manuevering towards year-round schedules. Trap those young minds and reel them in, keeping the mush fresh for advertisers to implant their messages.

It used to be an easy transition, once those repeats started playing and daylight began to seemingly last till morning, the kids knew to go outside and be active. Enjoy the summer vacation from formal education and reexamine the out of doors. Learn a new sport, read a book, play with friends until moms begin to yell, anything but sit inside and be fed a simplified stream of consciousness.

The networks probably feel that this is an untapped market, and with the increasingly miniscule budget requests of reality programming, why not exploit the opportunity. I wish them the best of luck. I also wish the best of luck to both kids and adults alike in really prioritizing personal programming. Hoping that they make the decision to choose which programs to spend their limited time on and then escape to enjoy everything the world wants to offer them, without the filter inserted by the television between the viewers and life.

We leave our trash can in front of our house seven days a week. Our neighbors leave their trash cans in front of their houses all week as well. Every Monday, the entire street rolls their trash cans to the curb for a gigantic trash can to roll by and collect the smaller amounts of trash.

And what if our trash cans are full before Monday. If we can’t close the lid, we get charged an extra four bucks (I learned this the hard way). But I’ve never heard of anyone stealing another trash can for the extra storage. Maybe we will borrow a little space in an adjacent bin, but I have never come home alarmed to find that we no longer have a trash can sitting out front.

The city distributes these bins to everyone when you sign up for garbage service, which everyone does when they first move in. You pay for the trash pickup service, taxes pay for the hardware and theoretically, I guess, the city knows who has which trash cans. If you have a problem with your bin, they bring you a new one. All of your trash can needs are met. No one has a reason to steal, borrow, or confiscate a bin that is not theirs. There seems to be no profound thoughts to exchange or relocate trash cans, because they are all the same and everyone has one.

We leave our trash can in front of our house seven days a week and socialism seems to make sure that it will be there tomorrow morning.

I am still looking for that perfect wake up call. I have only had two alarm clocks in my entire life.

My first was a brown affair with a bright red LEd display. As far as I know, it is still ready to wake someone up at my parents house should the opportunity present itself. The alarm clock I adopted my freshman year of college has served valiantly for eight years now. The indiglo glow is much preferable late at night and I always set the date function but never use it.

I have always preferred the radio to a loud, jarring blast of pure sine waves. Give me a calm classic rock radio station that knows not to disturb anyone too early and I will be happy. Even talk radio if I happen to be getting up that early as long as the DJ’s (that don’t usually spin discs) aren’t too annoying. I don’t want Howard Stern, but something with a local flair can be good for easing into the sunlight.

Unfortunately I am still looking for THAT station here in Austin. I know I will find it, but until then I haven’t be waking up as easy as before.