The joke is, Austin doesn’t have four seasons, just Summer and Houston. Lately, it’s been “Houston.”
I suppose there’s a quick side trip here, too, or sidebar item, about a friend of mine, we did some time on the trail the other day. I was dragging, not from the heat, it wasn’t quite a 100, but it was humid. My friend (Capricorn - raised in Houston, TX) said it wasn’t really all that humid.
The next time, we both checked, and it was over 50% humidity. To me, that’s a tad humid. To her? That’s nothing. Dry, even.
But this wasn’t really about the seasons, or the weather, other than the weather as a supporting point. I had to meet some clients at the Four Seasons hotel. Me? I’m perfectly happy in such a rarified environment, but to be honest, this is only the third or fourth time I’ve been there, and only the third time - in a decade - for a reading.
As one client was pointing out, “It’s relatively quiet, and while there are a couple of famous people here, they don’t remember me so we’re not going to be disturbed….”
And we were left, unmolested, for the requisite two hours, and I paged through a great deal of data about charts, and there was the oddest connection, three of us, all with the same moon sign.
One of the clients had just come from a quick swim in Barton Creek - the city run pool. Her hair was still damp when we started. I was cooling my heels in a coffee shop across town (3 blocks away), having what had to be one of the best single shots of espresso I’ve ever had in Austin.
The service at the 4 Seasons bar was admirable, and since I didn’t pick up the check, I’ve no idea about the price of my drink. But in comparison, the shot of espresso I just had at a slightly more seedy place was much, much better. There, it looked like a thimble-full of Guinness. Compare and contrast? Not sure it’s a fair comparison - I don’t think the bar help at the 4 Seasons had any tattoos of Surrealistic Artists & Art, and for that matter, no ink was visible at all - on any of the staff. Not that it matters, just a casual observation. 4 Seasons wine list was more impressive, don’t think any of it came from a box.
Before I’d left to make the meeting, a sweet Pisces had called to check in, and I wondered about the dress code at the Four Seasons, if my casual look would be okay. While we talking, I was hopping across a piece of hot tarmac, broken blacktop, barefoot, no shirt, a phone headset plugged into each ear, and fishing pole in my hand.
“It is Austin, just remember to take a shirt with you, when you go up there.”
“Whereto if you’ll a willing ear incline,
What’s mine is yours, and what is yours is mine.”
Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure (V.i.550-1)
Laeti edimus qui nos subigant!
