I've been mulling around a not so secret semi-fantasy of leaving this fair town and heading west. A return to my roots, perhaps, being an Oakland girl by birth and a Pacific Northwesterner by heritage, but a New Yorker at first by circumstance (as of 1980) and then by choice (these last eleven years).
I mentioned this to Nick a couple weeks back, this idea of cashing it in and heading to Portland or Bellingham or Ershig Road (overlooking the Skagit Valley floodplains not far from Chuckanut Drive, and my boy's not so secret fantasy). To which he looked a bit skeptical and said, "Well you better come back for my wedding..." To which I replied, "Of course I'll come back for your wedding, dumbass... especially if I get to be your best man..." To which he replied, "Well, would you be willing to wear a tux?" To which I of course replied that I would absolutely love to wear a tux, while feeling a certain relief that the conversation had so quickly shifted from a not remotely comfortable topic to Nick and Sarah's eventual wedding, which is just plain awesome. Even if I don't get to be the best man and wear a tux. This was, after all, well into a second round of particularly potent margaritas and not entirely binding (or possibly even remembered).
Last week, in the midst of a delicious CSA-filled vegan dinner with Dan, I mentioned this idea of westward migration and he just kind of scoffed good-naturedly and said, "Of all the unlikely things in the world, you leaving New York is one of the unlikeliest I can imagine."
So there you have it. Rumblings. Can you imagine me buying a piece of land and building a house here?
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Well it certainly is pretty. And a pretty far cry from NYC. Personally, I like the city but couldn't live there. I love the country, but the jury's still out on the question of my possible someday habitation.
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