Back to Boston

Well, it's all happening. Here is a run-down of recent events that have me moving back to my favorite city, Boston:
- Four weeks ago I met with a company who I had interviewed on the phone with MONTHS prior, and given up on. It's a small book publisher that does an array of projects, the bulk of which being new age-type books. I thought they disappeared into a vortex or were trapped in a sweat lodge, hence the months-long silence. I mean, who wouldn't want to hire ME!? So, they were in New York for a convention, and I reached out to set up a time to meet for breakfast. On the subway ride to their hotel, I start choking up at the realization that I may be leaving New York. Then, I realized I was listening to Sigur Ros on my iPod, so I quickly changed the music to the Sleigh Bells record and fixed that pretty quickly. Best not to feel emotions.
- Last Friday, I was up near their offices for a meeting with another company I work with in the area. After giving a presentation, that company actually offered me a job on the spot. They said they've always enjoyed my presence and how professional I am (ahem, ahem). I told them I'd think about it, because I was actually on my way for my FOURTH interview (again, just give me the job!!) at this other place. A few hours later, I was considering two job offers to have me relocate to New England. I took this as a major sign (the new age books are already working!) and decided to relocate with the publisher. It's an amazing opportunity: better title, more challenges, etc.
- Last Saturday, I drove into Somerville (just outside Boston) to stay with my friend Chris and to see Conan O'Brien's live show with another friend. And, I had an amazing weekend! Before the show, a group of us went to the Cambridge Brewing Company for beers, and my friends Carleton and his girlfriend Sarah came out, too. I've had a girl crush on Sarah since I met her last year sometime, and it was so nice to see her and hear that she was glad to see me relocate. Honestly, that's been a sticking point with relocating. In New York, I have a ton of amazing girlfriends, and with a few (lovely) exceptions in Boston, the majority of my friends are guys (who I love). Sarah was so sweet and said she'd introduce me to her friends, and it was just such a tremendous comfort.
Then, Conan - which was so much fun. While the show wasn't AMAZING, my favorite part of the whole experience was watching how much fun he was having. He's the only celebrity I've seen on the street that actually made me feel star struck. I mean, Steve Buscemi shook my hand before - so you know, a) I'm cool and b) it didn't make me start laughing uncontrollably or start shaking like Conan did. I was a little disappointed that he didn't have any cool guests stars (the Dropkick Murphys played with him, and these goobers sitting in front of my friend and me high-fived and knew all the lyrics, oof). After the show, we met up with my friends again who had seen him the night before and were really great about not giving out any spoilers, so I thought it'd be a good idea to tell them fake guest stars that were there, just to make them jealous. So, who's cooler than Dan Akroyd and Flea from the Red Hot Chili Peppers? The answer: no one. They believed us, but the charade didn't last long.
Anyway, that night turned into one of those where you think it's a GREAT idea to sleep outside in the rain, the sun starts to come up and you hear birds, and you have the worst headache of your entire life, but it was all worth it and makes you more excited to move back. Between my friends' hilarity and seeing Conan, my cheeks hurt from laughing so much when I was driving back to New York on Sunday night.
- Cut to Monday, when I have to start telling my NY friends. I had written a text to my best ladies on Saturday asking to get lunch or drinks after work on Monday, and they smelled a rat right away. I really didn't want to tell them over text message, but it was probably for the best. The first friend I told in person was my friend Hilary. We work together, and also traveled to Costa Rica together. I walked into her office first thing and just started crying. She starts crying because she knows that I'm leaving and it's all downhill from there. I tell my boss: crying. I get a nice email from my ex-boyfriend: sobbing. I left work on Monday completely exhausted from crying so much. The whole "best not to show emotion" thing is completely out the window.

The thing is, it's going to be OK. It's not going to be easy to leave in 2 weeks or 2 years, so I'm going to try to make the best of my remaining time here and look forward to the good times ahead. Boston is not that far away from New York, so I hope to get tons of visitors and definitely be back in New York as much as possible. And, for the next few weeks, it's probably best if I delete Sigur Ros off my iPod.

C'mon Get Happy

I need a quick reminder of what makes me happy. Monday was not my best day. After I saw my car's damage, I kicked into full "woe is me" gear. I cried in front of my boss, which is so tacky (and why a woman can't be president!), but in my defense he asked me how I was doing. We all know that is the worst question to ask when you're in a sour mood.

I've snapped out of it, with a little help from running this morning to get the endorphins going. But, here are a few things that have made me happy as of late.

Veggie Corn Dogs for dinner:

Sunday's Pickle Festival (check out the creepy glove action):

Hot Guys. On Bikes. Playing Polo:

This guy's jean cargo shorts:
A ferris wheel in the middle of a downtown New York street:

Re-reading one of my favorite books:

Laundro-loathe

I hate doing laundry. And, now, even my mom hates when I do laundry.

Last year, after letting my laundry pile grow for a month I waited until the last possible day before I had to do it: the day I ran out of underpants. I changed out of my work clothes - sans underpants - laced up my shoes and headed down the steep steps of my apartment building and the rickety steps out the back of the building with a bag that must have weighed at least 50 pounds.

I had three more small steps to conquer before I could get into the communal laundry room. I'm not sure what happened but I fell and heard my ankle pop. I was still hugging my laundry bag and sprawled out over the cold, dirty concrete crying. Instead of surveying the situation, I just continued crying and having a panic attack. I thought I was going to die alone and no one was going to find me. No one in my building would come looking for me and they'd find me days later, tears frozen to my face and not wearing any underpants beneath my jeans (I don't recommend this).

After a few minutes, I realized I wasn't going to die, my ankle wasn't very swollen and I wasn't even bleeding. I crawled into my laundry room and put the clothes in the wash. After all, I didn't have any underpants. I hobbled back up to my apartment and rolled up my pant leg to reveal this:

I called a friend of mine in the neighborhood who was nice enough to take me to the hospital. I was so embarrassed because I've always been told to wear clean underpants in case I have to go to the hospital (among other reasons). And, I was really messing up that life lesson. I got an X-ray and the doctor told me it was broken. The next day my brother was nice enough to drive from Philadelphia to take me to get it casted. After another X-ray, it turns out it wasn't broken.

But, now there is nothing I dread more than doing laundry. I get a knot in my stomach; I'll delay it any way possible. I've worn bathing suit bottoms instead of underpants to delay it one more day. I've purchased new underpants. I had to do laundry today, and I survived. My mom called me to let me know she was thinking of me and to remind me to take my time going down stairs and remain calm. It looks like I'll be safe for one more month.

What I learned in Cincinnati

I flew home last week for a wedding and had a brief stopover in Cincinnati.

On the short flight from LaGuardia to Ohio, I sat next to a very friendly actor from New York who used to be in the Blue Man Group. We talked about all sorts of things: Sigur Ros, Dr. Wayne Dyer and our parents' and grandparents' relationship when it came to war.

I told him that my grandfather gave my dad a hard time for not enlisting during the Vietnam War and how he thought my dad would miss out on a great deal of camaraderie. Of course our conversation shifted to the current conflict, and if we knew anyone over there, etc. I said I felt so far removed from the war and didn't understand how it affects families whatsoever. That was, until I had a few hours before my connecting flight to Los Angeles.

I was sitting in the terminal - people-watching - as a gate was emptying. I noticed a few families with balloons and signs waiting at the gate exit, which was bizarre to see because that's not generally allowed. As passengers were filing into the terminal, they weren't rushing to their next gate or the baggage claim. They were gathering around the families with the balloons and signs to wait with them. People walking by stopped to watch, and the whole terminal was captivated by who was coming off the plane.

Then, a woman who was milling around the gate screamed at the top of her lungs, "Bobby!" She ran toward a man in an Army uniform and jumped on him, wrapping her legs around him. She couldn't stop screaming and crying, and soon tears were streaming down my face as well. I looked around self-consciously, but it didn't matter because EVERYONE was crying. The terminal erupted in applause, which made me sob more.

Later, another soldier exited to more applause. And then another.

While I still can't fully comprehend what it's like to send a child, husband or brother off to war (whether you agree with it or not); I'm glad I got to witness what it's like to see them come home.