nomad life

I'm 90 percent sure the woman who has printed all of my return address labels during the last year thinks I am running from the law.

And this weekend, I'm about to push any reasonable doubt out of her mind, as I prepare to move again.

Yessiree. Four homes in 10 months.

Officially fugitive status.

As Sally heads back to Mississippi, Melissa, Katie and I are merging our two two-bedrooms in Midtown into a three-bedroom in the Highlands.

As excited as I am, I'm sad to say goodbye to our Charles Allen home. It's been a happy, happy place, where so much has happened. I've been in love with the Highlands ever since I interned in Atlanta in 2008, so I know it's going to be a wonderful place to live, but I think we'd all agree that it's bittersweet - bitter to say goodbye to our backyard, Piedmont Park, as well as our friend Sally. But very sweet to begin another adventure in a happy three-bedroom.

I packed everything up last weekend (clearly) and am excited to take the plunge. Here's to hoping for a smooth move.

See ya on the flip side!

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no monsters in these closets

Yesterday in a meeting, my boss was driving a point home and said: Have you seen Monsters Inc.? It's just like in that movie, where every time you open a door there is a new world to discover.

First of all, this is why I love my job. Because he sold us on his point with Monsters Inc.

Second of all, I've been thinking about this idea ever since he said it. Lately, I feel like I've been stumbling into new parts of Atlanta, or seeing old areas with fresh eyes, and if I were allow myself to do so, I could have a mini-identity crisis every time. I'm having these moments of: Wait. I love Candler Park. Why don't I spend more time over here?

I spent an entire summer interning in Inman Park. I was required to take an hour lunch every day, during which time I would walk around the neighborhood exploring. And yet, this weekend I was in Inman Park and felt anxious that we didn't consider moving here before signing our lease.

Was I not paying attention the first time around? Or have I changed just enough that these areas are more appealing to me now?

I don't know.

I've never prescribed to FOMO, so I refuse to believe it's that the grass is always greener. Because, the grass has been pretty darn green in Midtown for us, and I'm feeling confident we're about to true love on our new place in the Highlands, too.

So what is it?

The optimist in me would like to say that I have just fallen for Atlanta and it continues to please me with every new inch I explore.

On the other hand, the realist (that is only kind of in me) is thinking this might just be part of this crazy season that is 23-28 (*note that this should not be construed as a promise to have things figured out by 28).

We're transitioning and changing, and maybe three years ago Buckhead was perfect for me. And maybe right now the Highlands are just right. And maybe in a few years, it'll be Inman Park, or possibly even another city (or - an even wilder thought - OTP). I really can't say. If you'd told me while I was interning that I'd soon be yearning for a cute little bungalow in Inman Park, I would have told you you'd lost your marbles.

And that's the beautiful thing about this movie of life we're living. We just have to work hard and do our thing, and then to sit back, relax and enjoy the show. You never know what will happen next.

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the chicken or the egg?

In recent years I've discovered that my best friend, Katie, has never had a headache. Ever. She asked me if I could describe it to her, and wondered if it was similar to a brain freeze.

Unreal!

And today, I want to talk about heads hurting. Not in the sense of headaches, but instead about things that actually make my brain hurt.

The first and most obvious is outer space. It just goes on - forever?!

The second is the idea of the chicken and the egg. I know it's an overused metaphor. But seriously. Which came first?

And even though it boggles my brain, I like to apply the fundamental elsewhere from time to time. When I come across a situation that begs the question, I like to just drop in a quick, "the chicken or the egg?" with a head shake.

I think it gets the point across nicely.

And [stay with me. I promise this has a point], that is just the way I feel about juicing these days.

A few months ago, in a matter of 48 hours, I went from someone telling me I should try juicing, to which I said: what is that? To having multiple people talk about it, Shape magazine writing a cover article on it, and helping my sorority sister, Ellen, start a juice truck in Boston via Kick Starter.

So what happened? Did juicing all of the sudden blow up in one weekend? Or was it there all along, and I just started noticing it?

The chicken or the egg, nahmean?

OK. It's a loose metaphor. But either way. I don't know when juicing got so hot, but this weekend I got big with Whole Foods' Green Lemonade - celery, kale, spinach, apple, lemon + a shot of ginger. It was no chocolate milk, but it was a pretty solid way to get my kale intake up.

I asked for a juicer for my birthday, so I'm hoping I'll be making my own concoctions soon. I also hope my relationship with the juicer, if acquired, won't be similar to mine with my food dehydrator, which I never used and donated to Good Will when we moved. I think it probably has a happy home, now, but I'd like to avoid the situation altogether. 

::hello goodbye::

This is how far apart Sally and I live right now.

And this is how far apart we will live next week.

If I were a bettin girl, I'd choose option A.

Wouldn't you?

She's headed home to Mississippi next weekend, and I felt it was my civic duty to ensure her last weekend in Atlanta was rilly great.

I went to a birthday party for Abby Friday night, after which Sally met up with us to get the weekend started.

It included a small adventure on Marta, lunch at Cafe Jonah (finalllly tried it), a little bit of thrifting, an evening in Midtown with Ben, Maggie and some other fine Hoosiers, Yeah! Burger, Piedmont Park Arts Fest and, of course, the King of Pops. If that's not making the most of our 48, I really don't know what is.

We'll miss you, Sally neighbs!

PS: Telephone cups? They work!