The month of December in brief

Heavens to Betsy! A 31 day lag. I tried to write approximately 12 Christmas posts which all sounded trite. The gist of them: give back to others during the holiday season (and all throughout the year, really). I have a lot to be grateful for, when many others are struggling and that is never more noticeable than during the holidays.

Since my last post, my sister turned 29 + 1 and that brought me back to the east coast for the first time since I left. Now, I have never lived in NYC, but lots of friends (and one sister) have, and I have been there many times. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I had chosen NYC like all the other VC grads, instead of Boston after college, but we will never know... So I have really been enjoying Cincinnati and not been too east-coast-homesick, but when I flew into NYC, it pulled at my heartstrings and I felt a pang of jealousy for all those people who got to stay on the coast. We toured NBC Studios and the page told us some tales about Dr. Oz and his talk show, including the swab he did of the bottom of a lady's purse that was germier than a NYC toilet and had 2 different strains of Hepatitis on it. Later that night/early the next morning I was strolling down the sidewalk and slipped on a laminated menu on the sidewalk. All I thought as my bum hit the sidewalk was, eww, I wonder if I am as a germy as the purse now. And then I was kind of ready to leave the big city and head back to my Midwestern semi-suburban life...

Christmas came and went, my brother and I sustained a well-deserved loss in the annual gingerbread house decorating contest. The Christmas craft project was successful, and the sweatshop was much more productive and efficient than in years prior. Keep an eye out for the link to the Etsy shop! We saw the house where The Christmas Story was filmed, on a street full of houses with leg lamps in the window. We had a snowball fight, and made a snow lady, and went for a lovely, if not freezing cold walk in the Metroparks.

And then I tore myself away from my home (the DSM-V is rumored to have adult separation anxiety as a diagnosis and I will proudly be first in line for that one), made the drive back to Cincinnati, slept for 3 hours, and made a 6 am flight to Albuquerque (which I have practiced spelling) to see a friend from grad school and celebrate the New Year.

I love green chiles. I have always loved green chiles. I should move to New Mexico because they have a lot of them there. We had breakfast at Frontier, famous for many things including their green chile hash browns. I literally could have eaten a bucket full of them but was trying not to appear to be a huge fatty, and because I knew I would eat well over the next few days. My friend and her boyfriend have an impeccably well stocked kitchen. She has traded out her Kitchen Aid mixer (over which we bonded when I stayed with her during grad school interviews) for a Cuisinart stand mixer, which I will forgive, but what I cannot forgive is the assertion that Thomas Keller's chocolate chip cookies are better than my Rolo Chocolate Chip Cookies. Thomas Keller should stick to French Bistro cooking and leave the lowly chocolate chip cookie to me. We had a spa day, visited the Albuquerque Costco, ate grilled pizza, went to Sante Fe, ate blue corn enchiladas at Maria's, stopped in the heroin capital of the US for a bathroom break, and arrived in Taos at twilight on New Year's Eve. My friend made me sleep in the garage. We woke up at 7.30 am to go skiing at Angel Fire. I had not been skiing since my very early 20s. I am not sporty. I worry about injury on a daily basis. I asked the ski technicians if they had a padded suit I could wear. I jokingly complained about skiing and head injuries and broken legs. One guy, who looked like he hadn't showered or slept in days, said, "Are you familiar with the power of the mind?" I said, "I am," and wondered what piece of stoner wisdom was coming my way, and he said, "It's really powerful." Why yes, sir, yes it is. I donned my helmet and rode the chair lift up, got off the lift, stood on the precipice, and skied down the mountain. And loved it.

And so, with the mountains of New Mexico as my inspiration, 2012 will be a year without complaints and fear. I will do the things I think I cannot do, I will learn from them, and I will confront the voice in my head that tells me it will be okay to put it off til tomorrow. The irony of the fact that I was supposed to take a Pure Barre class at 12 and it is 12.31 and I am typing this does not escape my notice. I will totally go to a class tomorrow.

Just because it's reggae music doesn't mean it's warm outside

Yesterday, I went to the Reggae Run, which is a popular 5K here in Cincinnati. Make no mistake, since moving to Cincinnati, I have not begun running 5Ks. I must maintain some semblance of my old life. You can buy a ticket just to the party, without having to put forth the effort of running uphill through Ault Park. So with your admission to the party, you get access to all the food and drink booths, as well as a freezing cold night of reggae music. All without running the race. I should state though, that we parked really far away and had to walk forever so it was kind of like I did the race. That was what I told myself as I enjoyed fried pickles, avoided goetta, and tasted the other bounties of fair-food that were offered. I was talking to some people who were asking when I moved, where I moved from, etc. and at some point it came up that I had lived in Ohio before. Typically, when people ask where I'm from, I flub around a bit. At this point it is easiest to say Cleveland given my current geographical location. So if you tell someone you're from Cleveland, they ask what part, because most people don't actually live in downtown Cleveland. So then I say Chagrin Falls, but I say it in this way of, oh you've probably never heard of it. The thing is, here, people have heard of it. So here I am in this huge group of people bopping along to reggae music, spilling beer everywhere, and 99% of them are wearing Ohio State sweatshirts, or Cavs hats, or Browns t-shirts and there's a tiny mental shift that occurs where I realize I live in Ohio. Again. And so far, that's not such a bad thing. They have fried pickles here!

On the grid

Ohio driving law written test? Passed for the second time in my life. Drivers license with a photo twelve shades of orange? Check. Registration? Check. Title transfer? Check. Bucolic farm scene license plates? Check. Mildly frustrating day dealing with state government and driving all over the place to get these things accomplished? Check! I rewarded myself with an afternoon nap (delicious), a sweaty power yoga class, and a taste test of Cincinnati ice creams: Will Graeter's or United Dairy Farmers win the Mint Chocolate Chip Challenge? Only time will tell. I can't eat and type at the same time.

I am moved

I drove on Thursday. It's a boring drive. Lots of cornfields. It rained a lot.

The movers arrived on Friday morning. I have never seen such a flagrant waste of paper in my life.

My parents arrived on Friday afternoon. I have been kept busy all weekend with shopping, cleaning, decorating, eating lobster, and trips to Costco, Ikea, and Jungle Jim's.

My parents just left and now as I sit in the absolute quiet with only the tapping of my keyboard on stolen wireless (because the cable installation specialist hasn't arrived yet), all of the FEELINGS that have been kept at bay since March or last week or some time in between are finding their way out. There's most definitely excitement. But there's also a hefty dash of oh-my-god-what-did-i-just-do causing flip flops in my stomach. Although I suppose that could also be easily attributable to the Skyline chili for lunch. It's an interesting thing to start a life somewhere. There's a lot of activity involved. All those foundational things like finding a place to live and moving into it, and then the next layer of stocking it and decorating it and making it feel like a home, and then the next layer of finding your favorite grocery and local coffeeshop and take out sushi. Incidentally, there are three sushi restaurants within spitting distance which makes me think I did an excellent job of choosing this condo/apartment. I found a book club to join, which I'm excited about. The first meeting is in about 2 weeks or so and the organizer welcomed me even if I didn't finish the book in time. I refrained from telling her my dance card was not quite full yet and I had plenty of time to read. I shouldn't say that - I have some exciting plans this week so far: lunch with my friend who lives here, a pre-employment meeting, and hold onto your hats... a trip to the DMV! There's a rumor I have to re-take the Ohio driving exam. Let's hope I can pass it on the first try this time.

Tomorrow

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The Move Part 1

I feel like I should be live blogging my move. Here is what has happened so far:
I woke up. My friend the headache woke up with me. I don't have any Advil. I cried because I couldn't find my old Vassar t-shirt that is soft and comforting and I wanted to wear. I found the t-shirt. I went to CVS and spent $110.10 on contact solution so as to empty my FSA account, which had $110 in it. I forgot Advil. The movers arrived. My building yelled at me because I'd reserved the elevator from 1 to 4 and it was 9 am. I gently explained they would be packing first and we would not try to use the elevator when we were not allowed to. I found out the guy that did the estimate wrote me down for having two king sized beds. I made the movers cinnamon rolls. I convinced them that they could in fact put the hip hop channel on for their listening pleasure because yes I did like hip hop. I provided Chamillionaire's anthem Ridin' Dirty as proof. I decided to blog. Everyone's all caught up.

Heartbreak City

Today was the first day of moving-related tears, unrelated to a reaction to dust rising from the unbelievable amount of crap I have accumulated over three years in Philly. Just regular old heartbreak tears, as I stood in the middle of a boutique home goods store in Midtown Village staring at coasters of Philly scenes. As excited as I am for my move, I am so so so sad to leave this city. So there we go. No funny posts today, or baking posts (Pantry Baking #3 was oatmeal chocolate chip coconut cookies in case you're curious), or photo posts (those went directly to Craigslist), or ridiculous things that happened to me posts. Just a sad and bittersweet post. I got some wine at Tria with my friend who found Tria in the first place, and some gelato at Capogiro to make myself feel better.

The deep dark shelves of my pantry

I cleaned out my pantry in an attempt to gain some control over this whole moving thing because I'm starting to fray around the edges a bit. I realized last weekend's visit to the beach was the LAST. Anyway, I am donating the canned goods and other sealed items. I threw away most of the half open bottles of vinegar (I have many varieties), and poured five jars of expired Indian or Thai flavored simmer sauces down the drain. I clearly need to be better about keeping simmerable proteins around. I have issued myself a challenge to bake with all of the rest of the stuff I found in the pantry. I'm not allowed to buy any more of any of the ingredients, except semisweet chocolate chips because I don't have any and they are important. It's sort of like reverse Iron Chef; instead of one ingredient, I have many.

Read 'em and weep:
2 packages Biscoff cookies
20.75 oz bittersweet chocolate
10 chewy werthers
1 bag marshmallows
1.5 cups mini marshmallows
12 oreos
1 bag heath bars
1.5 bags rolos
8 oz unsweetened chocolate pieces
1 bag milk chocolate chips
1 bag mint chocolate chips
1 bag mint m &ms
1/4 cup unsweeted cocoa powder
1 lb pecans
1 c coconut
1 can condensed milk
1 can dulce de leche
1 box somoas
1 box thin mints
a lot of oatmeal
1/4 cup butterscotch chips
1/2 cup mini chips

Please feel free to submit suggestions. I'll put them in my excel spreadsheet and take them under consideration.

A funny fitting sweater

I just spent two weeks on vacation, which was completely delicious. The vacation post will arrive when the jet lag has settled and I can put my thoughts and photos together. For now, it feels so strange to be back for two reasons. The first, obviously, is that I am no longer on vacation. The second, is that in less than two months, I am moving. I am at that weird point in a transition where I feel unsettled and that I don't really belong in Philly anymore. I'm going to ponder over that for a while. However, it is also possible that I feel this way because this was not my view when I awoke this morning:

Who wants to make me a Continental breakfast buffet and provide me with a towel and a beach chair?

The Beginning

When people ask me where I'm from, I never know what to say. Baltimore until I was 12 1/2, Cleveland-ish until college, lovely Poughkeepsie for college, Boston post-college, Miami for grad school, and Philadelphia most recently. My dirty little secret is that I gauge my audience and use whatever city fits in best. I like the east coast- I don't mind visiting other time zones, but I feel unbalanced. I need east coastedness to feel settled and whole.

Maybe it is because that move to Cleveland-ish was a tad bit on the traumatic side. I still remember the terror of getting dropped off on my first day of 8th grade, including what I was wearing (a sweet polka dot tee dress). I think the only reason I'm not in a mental institution at this point is due to a quick thinking 4th period math teacher. Anyway, I swore that as soon as I could, I would move back to the east coast. Which I did. And stayed. And I never ever wanted to leave. 98% because I love it here in Philadelphia, but 2% because I HATE MOVING. I hate packing and unpacking and arranging and decorating. I'm not good at it. I really do not like finding a new place to live. I hate having to get adjusted to a new oven. I don't mind meeting new people or starting a new job or discovering a new city, but the whole moving thing really stresses me out a lot.

But now, due to an odd and perplexing twist of kismet, I am moving back westward, to Cincinnati (a city I find absurdly hard to spell), to a state I thought I would never live in again. Some may say I was being unreasonably stubborn by avoiding it. I'm sure I've offended my Ohioan loved ones with my refusal to even consider moving back, but I like what I like. I like liberalism and ethnic food, concrete, tall crowded buildings, loud streets and being near the ocean. I like being able to drive to NYC or DC or other cities ending in Cs. I even like the Lincoln Tunnel. I like that on a silly Saturday I could drive to DSW in NJ, Costco in DE (hello tax free shopping!), and then come home to PA with new shoes, a ginormous bag of chocolate chips and 12 pounds of salmon. I adore and love and am slightly stalkerishly obsessed with the restaurant scene in Philadelphia. I like walking to places. Or taking the occasional train. Don't get me wrong, I logically have nothing against Ohio. It has a lot going for it, with the stark exception of sports championships and the whole ocean thing.

So this blog will be my goodbye and I will love you forever letter to Philly and my life here, and my attempt at chronicling this new adventure to Ohio and handling it with what I hope will be more grace than I did 20 years ago. There will be no polka dots this time which will probably help.