My first cowboy

As I've mentioned before, despite what everyone may think, there actually aren't too many real life cowboys in Dallas. I think they prefer the country country. In fact, I've been in Dallas for a little over a month, and hadn't seen a single person wearing either a cowboy hat or cowboy boots. 

Until this weekend! 

For you enjoyment below, I bring you my first encounter with the elusive Hat/Boots combo. Considering it was in a mall, in front of Zara, and there were no spurs, I was rather disappointed. The hunt for a real cowboy in Dallas continues!

A little of both

Leaving Los Angeles was hard. And getting to Dallas--harder. I was so afraid of what would be waiting for me, what was lying out there in the unknown waiting to envelop me. Turns out it wasn't nearly as nefarious as I'd imagined. 

Yes, Dallas is different. Texas is not California, and Texans won't hesitate to tell you that. But that's not all bad. The longer I'm here, the more I realize that my life doesn't have to be the complete rejection of one culture for the absolute acceptance of the other. It's okay to have bits of both. Don't get me wrong, no amount of time in Texas is going to make me a Glenn Beck girl, but I might be open to new music or foods. 

The tile pictured above is now hanging in our kitchen. (The top portion says Shalom, for the non-Hebrew speakers). It's serving as a reminder that it's okay to accept that there might be some things I like about Dallas--and that that's okay. That embracing aspects of a life here doesn't mean I don't miss or want a life back in LA. That it's okay to say Shalom, and follow it with y'all. 

The first time back

Last week I took my first trip back to LA since the move. And it was.............................nice. I hate to admit it, but it felt really good to be home. I didn't need to look at a map every time I left the house, I already knew which restaurants I wanted to go to, and I got to see family and friends. It was great. So great, in fact, that it made it hard to leave again to head back.

Oddly enough though, when I got back it wasn't so bad. I got to sleep in my own bed again (which is always nice), the weather wasn't that bad (at least that night), and Drew was waiting for me with plans with friends. As much as I miss LA, Dallas is slowly starting to feel a bit more familiar. Coming back wasn't so bad. Maybe distance really does make the heart grow fonder....

Duckies!!!

I love anything in miniature form. They're just so much cuter than full grown things. It's one of the reasons why I love puppies and babies so much. So you can imagine how much I might love baby duckies....

Our apartment complex has a little park area with a stream, where ducks tends to hang out. Very serene. And when we moved in to the apartment there was a duck right outside our windowsill. A few days later we noticed she was sitting on some eggs. 12 to be exact. So each morning we'd peek out the window to see how she was doing, and when those baby ducks were coming.  

On Saturday morning we went for our regular check in, and saw that they had hatched! 

So adorable! They just huddled together and tried to keep warm, and participated in generally adorable behavior. 

By Sunday they were gone, but one little guy was left behind. He was all alone, shaking and basically crying out for love. Broke my heart. So we called Animal Control to find out what we should do. Maybe there was a way to get the mother to come back? Maybe we should put on gloves and take him down to the park area so his mom could see him?

Animal control told us that if he was alone now, it was because his mom had abandoned him. So no amount of gloved transport was going to help. We were told to take him in to the Animal Control office so they could properly take care of him. So we did. Drew picked him up, we placed him a warm blanket in a box, cranked the heat in the car, and drove him to the office. 

By the time we got there, I was completely in love. The little guy was chirping away, and all I could think was how much I did not want to hand him over. But.....I did. When I picked him up for the first time he was almost imperceptible. It felt like he didn't weigh anything at all. He was just one little soft fuzzball of cuteness. This is how tiny he was

We handed him off and drove home. Remind me again why I can't keep a baby duck? :( 

First Impressions

I've been here for longer than a week now, and am slowly getting adjusted. We've done quite a bit of work on the apartment, so there are really only 3 more boxes to unpack. And since we're waiting to get a shelf from Ikea delivered to us in order to do it, they may stay closed for just a while longer.

Mom came into town just a few days after I got here and worked her magic with closets and bathroom spaces and limited storage. She's amazing, thanks mama!

First impressions are often....well wrong. So I'm curious how much of what I've noted up until now I'll still come to believe in 6 months or so....but for now, here are my first impressions of Dallas.

1. It's hot! And there's this retarded thing called humidity here. Ugh, not fun. Today it's 88 degrees, humid and grey. Fun times in May!

2. No one wears cowboy hats or cowboy boots. Seriously. I have yet to see a single person. I think that trend tends to stay in the more rural parts of the state. But I'll keep an eye out!

3. Tollways suck. In what will likely become a topic of much further discussion, Los Angeles tends to spoil people in many ways. The weather (see #1), and the freeways being two of those ways. "But what?!" you say.  "Surely you can't mean the Los Angeles freeways have anything positive about them!" To which I will answer, "Aha, but they do! They are, after all, free. So when getting acquainted with the city, and needing to make constant recalculations to your route much to your GPS' chagrin, it will not cost you $8 to go 3 miles."  Also, you are spared the rather obvious annoyance of the tollbooth person and persistent honking of the cars behind you when you do not have the exact change required to Pass Go and Collect $200.

4. Hello cheaper living! Not only is our rent waaaaaaaaaaaay less than it was in L.A., our new car insurance is exactly half of what it used to be. That's right, HALF. Not too shabby! In what will surely become a topic of  much further discussion, Los Angeles spectacularly distorts people's notions of what's an acceptable amount to pay for....well, anything. I knew this of course, but I clearly didn't know it, know it. Lesson learned!

5. People are....exactly the same as in LA. Before I got here I heard one of two things about the people in Texas: They're all conservative hicks that will shoot anything that moves, and They're the sweetest people ever! Well, turns out neither of those are true. People are people--here, there and everywhere. So while no one has yet to lecture me on the many accomplishments of the venerable George W. Bush, no one has brought a Welcome to the Neighborhood fruit basket to my door either. Maybe I've just got to give both some time....

For Rent

Today I drove up to my apartment door to find the Westside Rentals "For Rent" sign had been put up by our landlord. Which, of course, makes sense. I'm leaving at the end of the month, and despite all my pleading none of our friends volunteered to take the apartment. So Landlord has to find new tenants. All perfectly logical.

But logic is hardly what I felt when I saw it. Inexplicable surprise and sadness swept over me instead. Of course I knew this apartment would go to someone else, I just always pictured that happening after I'd already gone. Then I could imagine it was still there, empty, waiting for us to come back and claim it. But this....well this was not in the plans.

While Landlord has not yet called to tell me that prospective tenants are coming to look at the place, the possibility hangs over me, elbowing in on my last days. Can't I just pretend a bit longer?

It's sort of like ending a relationship. Yes, I was the one who called it quits, and yes, you have a right to go on to find someone else. But do I really need to hear about it?

The In-Between

Drew has been gone for a little over 2 weeks, and in that time quite a bit has happened. He started his job, found us a new apartment and met half of Dallas. I packed up half the house, met with florists, cake designers and videographers, and worked my regular 9 to 5 gig. Busy weeks with lots of action. And we're not even halfway there. There's still plenty to do on both ends, and lots of time to miss each other.

While Drew is starting his new life in Dallas, he's unable to make it all the way. He's found a new apartment and will be moving in soon, but will have to make do with an inflatable mattress and paper plates until I (and our furniture) get there. And while I have physical custody of the remaining kitchen wares, most of those have been packed in boxes and are outside of my reach. So we're neither here nor there. We're in the In-Between.

As much as I am going into this move kicking and screaming, I was surprised to hear myself this morning tell someone I wished I was already there. Not because I'm anxious to leave my life here in Los Angeles, but because I feel like I want to start the new one already. The being here, the waiting, the packing in stages, the having separate lives.....it's not nearly as easily manageable in practice as it seemed in theory. And I'm impatient for the moment when I can unpack the things my mom and I have so gingerly placed in bubble wrap and newspaper. When I can have access to more than one pair of sheets. When I can cook in my kitchen again. When I---WE--can start this life we've been talking about and preparing for for what seems like so long.

I'm sick of the In-Between.

First to Go

Drew leaves tomorrow morning. In less than 10 hours actually. He is busy checking and rechecking and packing and repacking. And I am here. Watching as he checks and packs, occasionally offering suggestions, trying not to interrupt his groove. If he'd let me I'd pack every bag and go down the list and check and recheck. But this is his move and he has to do it. And so I sit.

Drew leaves tomorrow morning. With him, he'll take any illusions I had about some miraculous ending in which a Los Angeles studio calls and offers him a job on the spot, and we don't have to move after all. He'll take some of his things, his clothes, his toothbrush, and the other presence in a home that (much to my surprise) will turn out to be too quiet without the sound of Call of Duty in the living room.

Drew leaves tomorrow morning, and he says I'll hardly notice. That I'll be too busy with work and packing and wedding planning to miss him, and I'll be in Dallas before I know it and we'll be together again. He's right in that the next few weeks will fly by. But I will notice. In the morning, when there is no one to be quiet for as I slink around the room in the dark trying not to wake him as I dress for work. In the afternoon when I get home to find that the dishes are where I left them and there are no clothes on the floor. And at night, when I turn off the lights and curl up with....myself.

Drew leaves tomorrow morning. I'm going to go enjoy the last few hours we have together.

The First Wave

Drew is days away from his departure, and his impending trip has brought with it the first wave of goodbyes.

Friday night we had a fantastic get together with some friends at one of the old haunts. It was great to see all those faces. I tried my best to enjoy each moment with every single person, rather than slink into a corner to think about how much I want to stay behind and ensure this is not our last hurrah. And I did. I caught up, discussed, hugged, and photographed all our friends and lost track of time until last call. And despite our move being one of the evening's main topic of conversation I don't think I felt the familiar pang at its mention. At least not until we walked into the house and were immediately confronted by the sight of piled up boxes.

Sunday my family came over for lunch. As we fended off questions about cowboy hats and gun control, it occurred to me how much everyone's perceptions of Texas were based on the same stereotypes I'd based mine on. And how terrible they sounded coming out of someone else's mouth. (Note to self: rethink stance on Southerners. And East Coasters. And....well everyone.)

So the first round of goodbyes is over. And it was....tough. Although mine are still weeks away, I can't help but think how hard it will be when these meetings mean goodbye for me.

The Country

As a girl who's lived in big cities my whole life, I have to admit the notion of living in "the country" never occurred to me. I never bothered to define "the country." It was enough just to say that it was not for me, that I could not live there.

I lumped everything from the Carolinas to the "Deep South" together, picturing nothing but cows, fields, and illiterate cowboys. Not fair, I know. Deeply stereotypical and unjust, also true. But there it was, The South According to Sol.

You can imagine then, that I never in my wildest dreams pictured a world in which I lived "in the country." But alas, that's exactly what I'm going to be doing. About 6 weeks from now.

Drew has taken a job in Dallas, Texas, (thank you recession!) and since I've pretty much promised to love, cherish and follow him around the country, I'm going with. It's going to be quite the journey leaving my friends, family and home. And while it's not something I ever would have picked for myself, I'm going to go with this and see where it takes me. And despite myself, I'm even looking forward to this new adventure and all it brings with it.

This city girl is going country, and you're invited along for the ride.