Someone asked me if I thought it was a big waste to leave NYC and move to Minnesota just to turn around and go back...
And although I do imagine the apartment I'd be living in now had I stayed in New York, I wouldn't give up the friends I've made and the experiences I've had over the past six years. Not a waste at all.
Seriously. I'm a crumbly pile of tears when I think about leaving.
Still, Minnesota, see ya; hate to be ya!
I have 2.5 weeks to finish my MN bucket list, which sadly is just a bunch of restaurants I want to visit before we leave. The relocation company is packing our stuff, so I just sort of sit around waiting to leave with nothing productive to do. At least I have time to be super focused on my anxiety, so that's nice. Henry begged me to tell his teacher that his last day of class is a day later than it actually is. He can't bear the thought of having to say goodbye and would rather just be gone.
We survived our East Coast tour only to return home and have a huge, four-family garage sale for three-days that almost killed me. Sitting in a dirty garage selling junk to your neighbors might sound like a fantastic time, but it's a lot of hard work. I'm at the level of exhaustion where you can't really sleep, because you're too wound up from all the caffeine you had to drink in order to stay awake. I won't complain too much though, because I made some cash money at the sale and I had a fabulous vacation.
Like the President and Vice President, Nick and I took separate flights and trains on our trip, because he had to actually work in New York and Henry and I could afford to travel more leisurely. Ever the experienced flyer, Henry surprised me, as I was fumbling for my clear bag of 3oz liquids, by taking off his own shoes, placing them in the bin and sending them, along with Smelly Cow, through the x-ray machine. He's quite grown up and a total pleasure to travel with on my own. He understands that he can't turn on his DVD player until cruising altitude and wouldn't dream of kicking the seat in front of him. I can't help but brag about my little tourist.
And he finally understands that New York is a city, not a hotel. A city where you fold your pizza.
So after I taught Henry the proper way to eat a slice, buy a metrocard and hail a taxi, we found out that we won't be moving back to New York this summer after all. Had I mentioned that we might? I think I hinted at it, but it looks like we get to stay in Minneapolis for a bit longer or maybe even forever. I just don't know.
Henry begged to stay home from school today and after being away from him it sounded like a good idea, but I sent him off anyway, knowing that I had a long day of detox from a long, wonderful weekend of rich food and fine wine.
It was hard not to post a picture of the second house I wouldn't live in. I totally wanted to show you. I was so sure it would be ours, but I didn't want to jinx myself again.
I promised myself that this time I would not be devastated if our offer was not accepted, but I went ahead and mentally folded my towels and placed them in the custom built-in cabinets and took a bath in the claw foot tub. I was SO sure. And just to make super sure, went ahead and bid over the asking price. Not enough, apparently.
Last time this happened, I thought that every other house was stupid and ugly. That, obviously, turned out not to be true, but now it's true again.
I'm not sentimental. I have some issues with letting go and glamorizing the past, so I try to keep looking forward instead of dwelling on what has already happened. Even if I do remember that it's the anniversary of the first time I ever saw you, I won't say it out loud.
However, it is important to acknowledge the passage of time.
Henry and I moved to Minnesota one year ago today.
Did you know that not getting the house that you want feels almost exactly like being dumped by a boy? The numb, sick feeling of rejection.
I knew I should not have posted that picture. Someone else wanted it more than I did, I guess.
At least now I understand a little more how the game is played. I think we'll take a little break from house hunting, until the pain subsides. Every other house is stupid and ugly, anyway.
"Remember that we have good cheese and there is a bottle of decent white wine in the fridge that you should drink". "It's french, you'll like it", Nick whispered this morning, as he was leaving for the airport.
I wanted to tell him that I was going on a raw foods diet while he was gone, but I was too tired. It really is a shame to let things go to waste.
Henry is home sick today. He has a fever. Kids are always cuddly and sweet when they don't feel well. Henry is no exception.
I see lots of Dora in our future.
So, we made an offer on a house. That's real estate talk for "Here's ALL of our money, please, please take it and let us have your home."
Do you want to see the house? I bet it would be really bad luck to show you. or maybe not.
This is where I would have lived if I'd not posted this picture.
Dear New York, We broke up some time ago, but I never really let you go. I'm writing you this letter because it's time for me to move on. We've already been through the whole "it's not you, it's me" bit and I'm pretty sure the crying and the begging part is done now too, right? That was embarrassing, but breaking up is hard to do. Gosh, I was so young when we met. Remember that awful haircut I had? It's amazing that you even wanted me. That's the thing about you though. You give everyone a chance. You were so intimidating to me and even though I thought I was totally cool, you were all, "you have GOT to stop saying excuse me on the subway" and I toughened up and we fell in love.
We've been through a lot, you and me and boy, did we have some good times. We fought a lot in the beginning, but you were so different from everything I knew. You introduced me to so many amazing people. Many who have become my best friends. At times it's hard to see those people, because they remind me so much of you.
My mother never wanted us to be together, but thank you for always being so nice to her and showing her a good time when she came to visit. Sometimes I think she wished that she'd met someone like you when she was young. I know I complained and nagged too much and for that, I'm sorry. I'm also sorry that I left you after that awful day in September. I was scared. When I came back home I really felt close to you and even though you were hurting, you helped me be brave.
I'm sorry that I took you for granted. It's awful how I never fully appreciated your diversity, your ability to party all night and how you always let me read a book on my way to work. You didn't even care if I drank before noon. We were good together and I swear, I never cheated on you with San Francisco.
Things were not perfect though. You were incredibly impatient, smelled bad and it was so annoying how you always needed money. I couldn't leave the house without spending $20. My future is somewhere else now and so this is goodbye. Thank you for the memories. I know you were probably just trying to get with my sister anyway.
I complained about living in Dumbo almost every day, but my ultra-hip, Dumbo mommy friends were a life-line that got me through some dark post-partum days. Here's a funny article especially for you.
Live There? You'd have to be a Dumbo! A Park Slope mom does Dumbo.
Nick came to visit me in Minneapolis. I think he was impressed with the unpacking and the domesticating of the apartment. He pointed out a few things I need to do in order to truly establish myself in Minn.
1. Change time zone on computer. (Can't. I need to know what time it is for Beth and Angie) 2. Accept the itty bitty 2-section Saturday New York Times. (See exhibit A.) 3. Give up my 917 cell phone number (No way Jose; not in a million years) 4. Change watch to CST. (Again, that is not the real time)
Exhibit A.
There are many things I love about Mpls. The friendly store clerks who bring your groceries to your car and $35 haircuts.
Oh, totally hate the Euro hot plate stove top thingie. I need to see flames when I cook my macaroni and cheese.
Also I hate that you're not hereand i'm not there and you're so far away.
This is where I live now. Henry and I camped out here for two days with just a mattress and some frozen pizzas. The movers (finally) arrived this morning and now i'm adrift in a sea of boxes and tears.
You know that full body ache you get when you're waiting and waiting for the one you love to call you? The sick feeling that overcomes you when you check your phone and there are no missed calls? That's how I feel waiting for the moving company to ring me. I sleep with my phone and I never let it out of my sight hoping that it will vibrate with the news that my stuff has arrived in Minneapolis.
I won't drink more than 2 glasses of wine, because i'm liable to drunk dial Moishe's Moving company. That would be a low point, even for me.
Last week my friend Humphrey gave me the often quoted "you can never go home again" line. He said i'd be surprised at the culture shock i would experience once I was back in Minn. I laughed at his silliness in not seeing me for the small-town girl I truly am and had total confidence that I would, of course, fit right in once I was settled. I mean, really... culture shock? Certainly I felt it when I moved to NYC. In fact, I cried for the first 3 months I lived there, but Minn is my roots. It's not like I moved to France. Sure it may take some time to get used to certain things and I may always feel like i'm an hour behind -CST is super lame, but i'll adapt just like I did on the east coast.
In all fairness I am stuck in exurbia right now, but here are a few things I noticed on my excursions: Everyone is white. Everyone. People write personal checks to pay for things. The grocery stores are enormous and folks put their produce in individual plastic bags. Camouflage is always in fashion, as are deer heads. Everything is XLarge. Bags of chips, plates of food -super sized.
One of my greatest wishes for Henry, apart from being a plastic surgeon, is that he moves back to New York when he grows up. Certainly for my own selfish reasons of wanting to visit him here, but mostly because it's the greatest city in the whole wide world and I hope it will teach and give him all the wonderful things it did me. I told my mom this morning that I'm only sad about leaving my friends and that I couldn't wait to get out of this place. That was a lie. I'm going to miss her too. NYC. The subway I hate riding, the parks and museums I never go to, the restaurants I can't afford, the clubs I'm too tired to dance at, the bands i'm too old to know about and the crazy energy that's been coursing through my body since the moment I arrived.
I'm a big wimp in life and one of the things I'm most proud of is the courage I had to move here with $300 and a vague idea of where it was on the map.
Now let's put some money on the table. How long will I tell people "I just moved here from Brooklyn"? A year, i'll bet. I can be annoying like that. Me in Minn: "Oh yeah, i totally just moved here from New York", "I'm getting used to it, it's really different though", "No, Angie isn't moving back", "blah, blah, blah, blah..."
I Live in Brooklyn by Mari Takabayashi avab at Amazon.com
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