*An Incomplete List of Things I Can't Take With Me, Not Including Friends (Whom, of Course, I Will Miss)

"The Drafthouse"
Last Monday night, I went to the Alamo Drafthouse. It was dollar movie night, and the place was packed. "I love this place," said a cute college thing, bouncing as she walked. "This is my favorite theatre in the world." During the previews - an in-house commercial discouraging talking during the movie with a string of movie clips in which characters bark, "Shut the fuck up!" - the dorky guy behind me snorted, "Dude, I told you -- this place RULES!" It's not surprising that people in Austin think this; it's surprising that they even need to SAY it. Who among us does not know the glory that is the Alamo Drafthouse? Are they out-of-towners? Everyone knows that the Alamo is the best place to see movies in Austin (and I'll say it: maybe even in the country). The seats are not plush. The lobby is smoky and too often crammed with people. But they serve beer, food, and their programming is brilliant. It is the opposite of a multiplex and its perfect antidote.

"Me and Sadie"
I spend my afternoons here at Julie's house with her dog Sadie. I type on the laptop; Sadie curls up on the bed. I type on the laptop; Sadie barks at the postman. I type on the laptop; Sadie eats my underwear. We're a nice pair, me and Sadie. I'm a hard-nosed reporter, and she's a dog that's impossible not to love - blond and soft, with what appears to be a permanent smile. We amuse ourselves with all sorts of antics during our workday. Have you ever played "Hide the Bone, Dig Up the Bone, Hide the Bone, Dig Up the Bone?" Oh, that is a great game. And what about "Lick the Eyeball" or "Hump the Shoulder" or "Jump for Julie"? Those are fun games too. And what about Bacon Cheesers? That is not a game, but those are delicious. Sadie and me, we're good pals. Sometimes I even talk to her. "Sadie, what do you think of this life we have here?"
Sadie thinks about it. "Ruff!"
Sarcasm - I taught her that.

"These Ten Pounds"
Every time I come back to Austin, I gain 10 pounds. I'm not kidding: This has happened three times. It's an homage, really, an homage to the fine and affordable food in this city. Anywhere else (besides maybe New York), I can stay home, eat yogurt and fruit from the fridge, and not feel like I'm missing something. Here, it's like food is a zero sum game - there's only so much to go around, and I better chow! Here is a list of my favorite affordable Austin restaurants. Thanks for everything, guys; now my pants don't fit right.
Azul (sandwiches), Bouldin Creek Coffee Shop (vegan), Hoover's (soul food, hamburgers), Hut's (hamburgers), Juan in a Million (breakfast tacos), Madam Mam's (Thai/Vietnamese), Manuel's (interior Mexican), Mother's (vegetarian), Tamale House (migas, breakfast tacos), Trudy's (margaritas), West Lynn (vegetarian)

"Keep Austin Weird"
People in Austin are friendlier. They just are. The video clerk, the record store employee, even the asshole who cut you off in traffic - they wave, they smile, they engage you in conversation. This is how people operate in San Francisco, in Portland, in certain parts of New York, places where people feel that magic thing - a "sense of community" - where they go the extra mile to see that you enjoy this small shared experience. I've noticed a marked difference in Dallas, far more straight-laced than Austin, where people behind the counter at stores and coffeeshops just seem more skeptical of strangers, less curious, or maybe just less accepting of a shitty low-wage job. But I think it's also because people in Dallas don't see the effect that a smile - not a stiff, corporate smile, but a genuine smile - can have on a place, on a day, on the people around you. Does this sound corny? I don't mean to sound corny. I love the strange and quirky conversations I have with strangers in this city. It's been a great cure for my shyness.

There's more, I'm sure. Green space. Breakfast tacos. Congress Avenue. The Capitol. The Continental Club, Donn's Depot, Ego's, the Chronicle, the Ladybird Johnson Wildflower Center, Common Interest Karaoke Bar. I could go on. The good news for me is that even though I'm leaving, Austin isn't going anywhere.