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So I found my way to Barton Creek Mall. I always forget how far down it is, across the river. It's a much nicer mall than the one near our home, which is the ghetto fabulous mall in town. I had forgotten how spoiled I was living up north with a mall not overrun with loudly squawing teenagers in baggy pants throwing gang signs at each and their girlfriends in Daisy Dukes and tube tops. I'm sure those show up at Barton Creek, but for the most part it is full of yuppies. The yuppies are least quieter on average.

I now have colorful clothes, which would no doubt make my grandmother extremely happy. Green linen pants, blue pants, blue and green shirts, some black pants and an super cheap pair grey green jeans. I'm reasonably pleased. I still hate trying on clothes. Why must it be so uncomfortably warm in dressing rooms? I would rather it be frigid that tropical. At least then I wouldn't worry about sweating on clothes I have no intention of buying.

I also grabbed a large frozen coffee beverage, and managed to spill half of it on myself in the car. Go me.

Though it took me out of the way a bit, I drove home on 360. It's the most beautiful road in Austin, I think. It rolls up and down through the hills, in places right through spots where they dynamited out some limestone. At one point there's a gap in the hills and you can see straight to downtown. There's a wildlife and nature preserve, and you get to cross over the river at the big reddish iron bridge.



It's where all the cyclists like to ride, where Lance Armstrong trained. A shame that in my time they have built so many houses out there. I remember it being much emptier as a child. Today I drove past a boggling house, and I may have to find my way out to it and take surreptitious pictures. It's golden yellow, and looks like a two story Italian villa. There are walls of glass easily 15-20 feet tall across the back. It's perched precariously on the steep side of a hill. I wonder who lives there.

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