June 20, 2012

And so, I live in San Francisco now.

After a perfect, StyleMePretty worthy wedding in a friend’s backyard in a Philadelphia suburb that just exuded happiness (Congrats Zac and Sara!), some fried chicken from Federal Donuts (oh my), some very hard and teary goodbyes, one day of frantic unpacking at our new apartment followed by a quick trip to Los Angeles in which we bought a car (!), partied it up in Malibu for a friend’s birthday, and spent time with my family, we are here.

I know I owe you a house tour, and once we get all of the boxes really put away and all the pictures up on the walls I will post photos. In the meantime, I have to admit that it’s been a trickier transition than I imagined. San Francisco is staggeringly beautiful. The sun has been bright nearly every day we’ve been here (people tell me that’s unusual, I’m not sure I buy it). Scott had asked me how I would feel leaving a place that I know so intimately as New York (and I realize only now that I’m gone how true that really is–every restaurant, street corner, turn to make when emerging from the subway) and I excitedly responded that I was so excited to learn a new place, that I was eager for the adventure, and tired of knowing where the cracks in the sidewalk are in the only city I’ve ever really, truly lived in.

It is completely true that I’m excited to learn a new place, but yet, I was not prepared. The Comcast guy came last week to set up our cable and internet and we discovered that we had lost our airport express in the move. “No big deal, I’ll just run to the Apple store and get a new one,” I nonchalantly told Scott. I went downstairs to our garage, got into the car (for the first time by myself), pulled into the street, and realized I had no idea where I was going or how to get there. Thank goodness for iPhones, right? And so I made my way there, only foiled by a few one-way streets and no-left-turns, and I realized that I had to park somewhere. As someone who is used to walking or subway-ing to anywhere in my city that I need to go, having a car is at once liberating and terrifying. I eventually found a garage, got what I needed and returned home. Oh, and along the way I got pulled over by a cop on a vespa who wanted me to know that I had 2011 tags on the car and it was now 2012.

But that story is so last week. I’m getting more used to being here, less shaken and more delighted by what I don’t know. My life is an adventure, I keep telling myself. While my first few runs were unbelievably steep, I now have some vague idea where the hills are. We found a bodega a couple of blocks away that’s open until midnight. It’s still a revelation that our kitchen has drawers and all of our things can be put away. I have been cooking a lot (I’ll post more of these pictures, too). We have had some great days, and top notch exploring (look for those stories in the next couple of posts). So, I’ll tell myself again, my life is an adventure, as I feel anxious trying to figure out what my next professional step is, it’s all an adventure.


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