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

My wreck, in my momma's words

For my Momma's take on my accident, check our her blog:

http://cherisheachpreciousday.blogspot.com/2009/03/proud-momma.html

The Final Seventy-Two

I'm counting my time in Brooklyn down by the hours now. 

 

At T-Minus 72 Hours...

I was touched by my coworker Kate's toast to me during the office farewell party. We sipped Yellow Tail Shiraz and Merlot, and I was given more hugs, compliments, thanks, and well-wishes than I can count or than I deserve. 

I moved the last of my files onto the shared servers, double-checked that I hadn't left anything

behind in desk drawers, and send a farewell email to our staff. 

I switched off my overhead light, handed in my key, and walked out of my office at the Garden into the cold winter air for the last time.

At T-Minus 67 Hours...

I walked up Flatbush Avenue towards Flatbush Farm, where I was meeting friends for more send-off celebrations. 

Flatbush Farm was the bar of choice in part for its low-key and spacious interior, but also for the play on words. I'm leaving Brooklyn for Farmington, MO, after all.

Imbibement and celebration carried us into the 65th hour...

At which time we migrated to Union Hall, Park Slope's hipster bar. 

Johanna, Melissa and Meghan en route to Union Hall, 2/20/09

Photo by Big Mike

 

Union Hall's warm lighting, leather chairs, and bookshelf-lined walls welcomed us. We had a few drinks and made our way to the downstairs music venue where someone was celebrating their birthday with karaoke. 

At T-Minus 62 Hours...

The 'Staches closed the joint down, and headed for the deli for some late night sustenance.

The 'Staches, 2/20/2009

Photo by the Barkeep

And speaking of 'Staches, check out his mustache!

The Bartender, 2/20/2009

Photo by Big Mike

T-Minus 61 Hours...

Found us at the apartment of three of our teammates, eating and talking until the sun came up.

T-Minus 58 Hours...

(i.e. 8:30 a.m.) Found me walking home under a sunshine-filled Saturday morning sky, most of my teammates asleep on either beds, couches, or floor space at the apartment. Goodbyes are so much easier when I can slip out the front door without many people noticing.

T-Minus 48 Hours...

I'm still awake, and have been now for somehwere around thrity-six hours. My apartment is mostly packed...

I've said goodbye to almost everyone I need to say goodbye to, and I'm going to go have tea with my coworker and Friend, Kat, before coming back home to go to bed.

My Dad will arrive tomorrow at around noon with the moving fan and a bear hug. Stay tuned for the my story of our father-daughter cross-country trek. 

LTC 2009

I took the Amtrak from NYC to Syracuse this weekend to see Jesse and his wonder Golden Doodle, Oscar. Having spent this weekend with Jesse and last weekend with my friend Tim, I've found myself thinking a lot about the moment when once-new friends become old ones.

Jesse and I have seen each other through a lot. He calms my soul, and even though I’m not sure what value I bring to the friendship, I must bring something, because he continues to be there for me.

Visits with him help ease me into my transitions, and this weekend was no exception. After two good weekends in a row with old friends, I'm reminded that it’s the connections we make, not where we make them, that matter in this life.

NY = 0; MO = 0; Friends = ad infinitum

The Target Demographic

It was my first workout at the Y. For several days prior, I’d felt a little lost; a little far from home; like maybe the move to New York had become real, and I was sensing the distance (emotional, maybe more so than physical) from my friends and family.

My workout was done, and with it, any makeup I’d been wearing earlier in the day was also ‘done’ – long since wiped away along with my sweat, onto the YMCA institutional towel with the faded blue stripe down the center.

Looking around a few minutes before, as I neared the end of my thirty minutes on the elliptical machine, I realized that I was the target demographic. I was surrounded by fifty or sixty other mid-twenty- and early-thiry-somes who were probably living far from their own homes, chasing one dream or another. For maybe the first time in my life, I was almost precisely the median; more alike than unalike the people surrounding me.

Standing in the locker room post-workout though, hair freshly blow-dried and no makeup on, I caught my own eye in the mirror and it was as if I’d caught my brother John’s eye. The hazel center of my baby blues was unmistakably a mark of my father, and for a moment I was not only 100% New York dreamer and career chaser, I was also 100% connected to who I really am and where I really come from; my family.

What can I do?

When you thank me for my friendship, what can I do but tear up a bit and try to hide my feelings behind my tomboyish pride? I want to reach out to you, hug you, hold you (like you did me when I needed you) as you climb this hill in your life.

I know that your soul was deeply invested in this, and I hurt with you even though you try to hide your hurt by asking me about my freelancing work and by telling me about school.

I'm proud of you for where you are and where you're going. I'm proud to call you my friend. It's people like you that I want at the dinner party in my dreams, where my most interesting and compassionate friends come together to celebrate life in all its grandiosity and tragedy.

When you thank me for my friendship, what can I do but tear up and try to hide my emotions beneath the layers of skirts that I wear over my heart like the women used to wear over their hips when women still wore skirts.

It makes me want to die streaks my hair and express the most personal and individualistic pieces of my self when I have conversations like this one.

But what can I do but store the inspiration away for a rainy day, and be glad that no one was there as I hung up the phone to see the sparkle in my eye when I realized that after all we've been through, you hold me as close to your heart as I do you to mine?