2007-01-18 - 10:12 p.m.

What? I have a diary on the Internets? The Internets, that series of tubes? Excellent.

We are moving. And soon. Two weeks. To a crooked little hobbit hole in Silverlake. I have completely mixed emotions about the whole thing. Today I was driving down 2nd Street (aka Belmont Shore), and I started bawling. We�ve lived here for six years. Six years! We find ourselves on 2nd Street almost every day, and I�m so attached. So, so attached. Everyone knows our names there. Our pals at Fingerprints, our pals at Peet�s. The crazy ladies at the post office. The crepe place people. My Rite Aid pharmacists. My dapper gay-tastic Banana Republic-working friend who calls me Neve Campbell (I guess that doesn�t count as knowing my name, as that�s not my name, but still). The checkers at Vons (not on 2nd Street, but pretty much). I will really miss living here so much.

And don�t get me started about living farther away from my most favorite people on Earth. Please don�t.

I should mention Silverlake is only about 25 miles away from Long Beach. It�s not like we�re moving to another state. Honestly, I don�t know how people can do that. Not when their friends and family are all in the same general sprawled-out area. To those who have done it (and I understand it is actually a common practice), I salute you.

For January, Erik and I were supposed to be vegetarians. We thought it seemed right. I was a vegetarian many moons ago. I lasted several years, and then I ate a bag of beef jerky, and I continued to backslide from there. Anyway, we weren�t making any Swearing-Off-Meat-Forever goals or anything. We just planned to eat no meat in January and see what happened. Here�s what happened: On January 3rd, I went to visit my 94-year-old grandma in her Green Pastures Elderly Persons Living Community. She was tuckered from a morning of having her hair re-coiffed, so we had the good employees of Green Pastures bring us our lunches to us in styrofoam containers (rather than taking the long walk to the dining hall, where the incredibly aggressive old biddies line up 45 minutes before lunchtime and begin jockeying for position, taking each other out with their walkers). We had a nice long talk, and Grammix actually told me a few stories I hadn�t heard before. One of them was about how in high school my mom fell in love with a Norwegian exchange student named Holgram who asked my mom to marry him. Hours later as I was driving home, I suddenly realized that the lunch I'd eaten from the styrofoam box was, in fact, a ham-and-cheese sandwich. And ham is meat.

And so, we move.

�

---

<< Previous - Next >>

�