If you wondered why no posts, here’s the lowdown:

Wednesday morning I catch some type of 24-hour puke bug.

Thursday morning my wife puts me on a plane to Austin, Texas that she Pricelined only hours earlier. It’s a last-minute attempt to figure out the grad school situation. We eat barbeque at Stubb’s, shop on South Congress, swim in the Sheraton pool, take a look at the architecture department at the University of Texas, hang out on Sixth Street, and watch the bats fly on the South Congress Bridge.

Friday afternoon we’re back in Cleveland.

Not sure there’s anyway to process that kind of whirlwind madness. Couple of thoughts: It feels incredibly dorky to be named Austin in a city called Austin. This dorkiness is somewhat offset by the supreme coolness of the city and the warmness of the weather. Airport security is a joke. Quite literally, in this case.

Got back to Cleveland, and even though we were exhausted, we went out with Meg’s parents to see writer Rick Cleveland (West Wing, Six Feet Under, Cleveland native) do his one-man show, “My Buddy Bill,” at the Coventry Unitarian church. It was hysterical, and it’s gonna be a filmed special for Comedy Central real soon. Here’s a clip on Youtube.

My father-in-law did a great writeup of Rick in the PD yesterday.

So anyways, there you have it. More to come.