Lemons or Lemonade: A Blog in two Parts

Part One:

I'm grouchy today. 

Missouri is so nice, and people here are so nice. It's all so...NICE. 

Where's the grit? Where's the texture? Where's the edge? 

Oh, that's right. It's Missouri. It's not gritty or textured or edgy. It's nice.

Photo by smalltowngirl

Thank God for blogging, FB, and Twitter...And thanks to my NY friends who are following my blogs, photos, and tweets, caring about this journey I'm taking now, back in Missouri after so many years away.

I had hoped that social media would help me feel close to some of what (and who) I love about New York, and though some days I'm not sure it's working, other days it's the thread that keeps me connected, and by extension, keeps me sane.

So thank you, if you're following, emailing, and commenting.  And if you're following but not commenting, it would be so good to hear from you. 

NY=1; MO=0

***

Part Two:

For all the missing New York I'm doing now, I missed small town MO very much over the last 10+ years, too. Sometimes I longed for the quiet, humble, nice Midwest

While I can't walk down the street to grab the Times from a bodega or newstand in my small town, I can read it online from the coffee shop, where the barista visits with me for ten minutes at a time, and I can buy a large latte for less than a small coffee in  NYC.

And while French Press coffee and omelets with hungover 20- and 30-somes isn't quite the same as drip coffee in the pot at home, it's really kind of nice to wake up sober, to family and a little white dog.

So I'm trying here - I really am - to seek out the best Missouri has to offer. 

I want to love life here, or anywhere that I am, for that matter. I want to be one of those people who can find beauty and happiness anywhere.

I've started a community calendar here. I hope that this can become a space for locals to seek out hip, healthy, and interesting events in the area. 

I'm independent, so I can publish any event (unlike other, corporate events calendars I've found in MO). If you have events you'd like published, tweet me, Facebook me, email, or leave a comment.

In the meantime, I'll leave you with a few good local things I've discovered this afternoon:

The Tour of Missouri 2009

Go! St. Louis

Trailnet: Promoting Active Living

The Soulard Art Market

Eyes burning, but snug at home with my hot tea and fuzzy pjs, I feel good about moving back to Missouri.

I've spent two days this week working in various parts of St. Louis; driving in city traffic, eating in city restaurants, and talking to city people. 

I've spent the other days in small town Missouri; taking my Class E driving test at the highway patrol office, getting my new license at the DMV (I can drive company cars now, woot!), jogging on trails in the woods, and appreciating the mornings' sunrises.

I'll leave you tonight with the promise of a horseback trail ride and campout blog on Sunday, and with this photo, taken out of the sunroof of my car in downtown St. Louis on Monday. I love being a tourist in my own city:

Good night, all!

Grantsville, PA

Dad pulled in to Brooklyn just before 2 p.m., and after finding a parking space and exchanging a bear hug, we headed to La Bagel Delight for a sandwich.

Bellies full, and drizzly rainy grossness falling from the sky, we opted out of staying the night in New York, and opted in to packing the van to get the hell out of dodge.

Photo by smalltowngirl

Several trips down my four flights of stairs later, my room stood empty, the moving van sat full, and Dad and I prepared to sit in traffic on our way out of the city.

Two of my roommates, Bill and Suzanne, got home just before Dad and I were leaving. We spent a few minutes saying our "goodbye for now"s, we gave each other hugs, and they stood on the stoop to watch as Dad and I drove away.

South Oxford Street Gang

Photo by PapaG

As we made our way uptown toward the Lincoln Tunnel, Dad got a quick peek at Macy's, and I convinced him to make a minor detour so that he could say he'd seen Times Square.

At about the same time this afternoon, my mom looked out the window to see eleven deer in the backyard. She snapped several pictures, and blogged about it, saying "NY = 0; MO = 1".

Wrapping our way back down 9th Avenue and over on 39th street, we entered the Lincoln Tunnel.

When we exited the tunnel, New York City was behind us, and once it was, I didn't look back.

Twenty Four Hours

I gripped the rungs of the ladder, excited. Kids laughed and hollared and water splashed in the pool beneath me as I placed my foot on the first cool, metal rung.

Quickly, I ascended, afraid to look down. The top of the ladder came quickly, and as my eyes became level with the diving board, I realized for the first time exactly how high in the air I was.

What would happen if, at the top, you froze and couldn't get yourself down? Would they call in the fire department like the do when a cat gets stuck in a tree?

All of time stood still for a moment. Butterfiles rose up in my stomach, and fear trickled slowly from my core, into my arms and legs, and on to my fingers and toes. 

It was quiet from the top. A place of relative solitude. The kids down below looked small, and even the lifeguards - in their towers of authority - were beneath me. 

I was on my own, and while I wanted to feel the rush of the dive, I was terrified to actually jump from the diving board now that I was standing on it. 

Whether it was fear of humiliation, the uncertainty of what would happen if I simply sat on the diving board and refused to come down, or my innate sense of courage and adventure, I'm not sure. 

I walked to the edge though. I took a deep breath, and I jumped, a scream of terror and delight escaping my lips as my body hung in the air and began plummeting down. 

When I crashed into the water and made my way back up for air, I couldn't imagine not having had the courage to make that leap.

***

"How are you feeling about the move?" 

With twenty-four hours left, maybe this helps answer that question.

***