I must be over exhausted and overstimulated. Austin will do that to you. I started the day with butter coffee (it’s a thing), ran errands, errands, and more errands, and ended it all with swing dancing to three different live bands, two of which included western swing and steel guitars. Be still my heart, y’all. I could seriously fall in love with Texas, all its dancing cowboys, all it’s tattooed ladies. It may have already happened.

There’s a really strong chance.

Also, I found out there’s a beer called “America.” What can I say? I pledge allegiance. God shed his grace on thee.

This afternoon when Bonnie and I left the house, I somehow forgot my phone on my bed. I seriously don’t know how it happened. I mean, I might as well have left my penis behind–that’s how attached I am to my phone. And yet, I survived. The world didn’t stop spinning. That being said, I don’t have a lot of pictures to share from this afternoon’s adventures. Try not to be too upset.

The two big miracles today were 1) Bonnie and I convinced Annie that it was a good idea to have an area rug in the waiting area of her new Pilates studio and 2) we found curtains (for two separate rooms) we all agreed on. These are, of course, interior design miracles. The plan tomorrow is to hang the curtains and put together some of the furniture for the studio, so I’ll post pictures then. (Trust me, I won’t leave my penis–er–phone behind again.)

Tonight I went to a dive bar called The White Horse. I’d been warned that it smelled like urine, and it did. (Nothing like the aroma of piss on a hot day.) But once I got used to that, I had a fantastic time. I actually knew a couple of people there, and met some others. My friend Laura that I saw last night was there for part of the evening, so we danced several times. So get this shit. After one of our dances, a stranger came up, introduced himself as Jessie, and gave me a shot and Laura a beer because he liked watching us dance. (I think that was a first for me.) He said Austin had been his dream city for four years and that he just moved here three days ago. How cool is all that?

Here’s a picture of Jessie, me, and Laura (in order of appearance). Cheers!

Here’s a video of the second band, The Gin Racers. Ugh. One of my friends said this kind of thing goes one ALL THE TIME in Austin. As the t-shirt on the bartender said, “Only an asshole wouldn’t have fun here.” (My apologies if that’s you.)

In addition to wonderful live music and dancing, The White Horse has this other thing, a shelf above the urinals in the bathroom. I’m sure that doesn’t mean much to you ladies, but it was perfect for resting my elbows on–well, one elbow anyway–and I kept thinking, If I had a beer, I could set it on this shelf while I pee. Anyway, I thought it was seriously considerate, and if it were up to me, there’d be more shelves above urinals in the world. (Make America Great Again.)

After leaving The White Horse, Bonnie and I stopped at the closet food truck we could find, and I got a brisket sandwich (the guy gave me extra brisket because they were about to close) and some sort of barbecue mac-and-cheese sitution. Y’all, it was delicious. As Laura said yesterday, “There’s no reason to eat bad food in Austin.”

Here’s a picture. Practically health food, right?

On the surface, today was great. And it was great. I got a lot done, ate a lot of good food, had a great time dancing. Underneath the surface, I’ve had a headache for three days. It kind of comes and goes anyway, but it’s been worse since the car wreck. My muscles are tight and basically like, “What the hell?” Additionally, I’m kind of worn out and do have a small knot on my neck from the bee sting yesterday. AND I have a toenail that looks like it’s going to rot off because it apparently takes a hit when I run uphill or downhill. Anyway, my body’s not exactly doing what I want it to. (Is anyone’s?)

So yea. I’m sure I could find some other things to be frustrated about if you’d like me to go on. You know how little things add up. Personally, whenever things in my physical world and body aren’t going completely my way, my tendency is to feel hopeless and defeated. But I’ve been trying–trying– to work on patience, to not demand perfection–whatever that is–in this moment, maybe ever. It’s not easy.

Tonight at the dance a handsome, smooth-chested guy that looked like Ricky Martin on steroids struck up a conversation about dance and said he’d just taken his first lesson. Like a lot of people in his same position that I’ve talked to over the years, he said, “I’m not very good.” To which I replied, “Just shake your bon-bon.”

(I didn’t actually say that.)

Anyway, whenever new dancers say that to me, I think, Of course you’re not–that’s why you take lessons. Unfortunately, I’m finding that learning to be patient (with my body, myself, or even someone else) is a lot like learning to dance. You can’t just wish it to happen. The universe isn’t going to strike you patient. You have to practice. And that means there has to be something for you to be patient about.

A stiff neck maybe. Perhaps a relative.

This afternoon I picked up a book of poems by Rumi, the Sufi mystic and poet. I’ve been wanting one for a while but couldn’t find one that was “just right” until today. I’m not very far into it yet, but there’s a short poem that’s stuck with me this evening. It says, “If you are irritated by every rub, how will your mirror be polished?” This I think means that the process by which we step into our full glory isn’t always a fun one. Getting ourselves clean of internal frustrations and resentments isn’t pleasant. But we can’t let ourselves come apart at every unpleasant thing. Rather, if we can endure the rubbing, hopefully we’ll find ourselves capable of reflecting more light, more patient and therefore more in love with the world around us.