I'm a windbag

The reason I decided to move here in early November with no job, as opposed to maybe the dead of winter with one, is because I wanted to get to know the city, the weather, the people before I began working full time in a city where the weather is more prominent than the people. People go into hiding, from what I'm told, as soon as it starts getting ridiculously, miserably, bitterly cold.

In my last entry, I patted myself on the back for enduring the cold with such little effort. It is now not such an effortless task. On Thursday, I left the house wearing two pairs of (long) thick socks, a tank top underneath a long-sleeved shirt underneath a UCLA zip-up underneath my new 3/4 length down jacket, some heavy gloves, ear warmers, and some jeans. The second I hit the pavement, a chill set in that went straight to my bones and stood there, perfectly content to find a new (unsuspecting) home. It was only 23 degrees out, a temperature I had been out in before. But now the days have with them the chill that will last until spring. Whenever it got windy in Los Angeles, I wanted to run outside with my arms open, hair flying, feet dancing because they were the hot winds that made me feel so alive (and crazy). They made my blood rush; they sizzled my skin. They made me "feel." These Chicago winds definitely remind me that I am a sentient being. Pain is a feeling that comes to mind. And nothing reminds us more effectively of the fact that we are alive than pain. Oh yes, I am alive. I am alive. And cold. And chapped. And red-cheeked. Especially after my first fall, straight on my ass, from the icy ground. But this is all par for the course. I did say I wanted something different, right? Well I got it.

Covering things up.....

I've been a bad writer. A neglectful one, a conflicted one, and also an anxious one.  I've also been sick and my computer took a crap on me, so there, for you, are just a few reasons (excuses for some) why I haven't written in a month. 

Sunday, the 7th, marked my one month anniversary with Chicago. We're still going strong. On Sunday, November 30th, we had our first snow. During the days leading up, there were flurries, quiet and modest storms in practice; but the flakes melted as soon as they touched a surface. So I wasn't expecting that Sunday to wake up to everything concealed under white white white. Sad to say it, but at my old age, this was my first snowfall. It's not like I haven't been in snow before. I've gone skiing, sliding, snowball fighting.  But this SoCal girl had never seen snow fall from the sky to have it melt on my tongue and scratch my eyeballs until that day. I even have video of it--me taking my first steps in wintry terrain with my very sexy snow boots that make me look like your average behemoth. That video, however, is stuck on the hard drive that went all wonky on me. Errrr. Also that morning, I added to my library of audibles. I heard a very strange scratchy, scraping noise all around. I didn't have to look far to see what it was that I had already expected: people at their cars and on the sidewalks with tools, vigorously clearing the snow out of the way so they could start their day. Oh so glad I don't have a car! 

Today, it's raining. The temperature is a lovely 39 degrees, and the snow is melting, leaving the ground in patches of snow, dirt, leaves, and whatever green that is still alive. I'm quite surprised and proud of myself for how quickly I've acclimated to the weather. I've thicker skin than I thought. Literally and figuratively. (More on that later....).

I'm a flip flop girl in a snow boot world.

Today marks the first week that I am a Chicago resident.  I'm used to taking trips, weekend trips, week-long trips, trips where I'm gone for two months, so I guess I can say I am still on trip mode. But I'm on trip mode with a good amount of my belongings in boxes, not suitcases. So I'm thinking that maybe, two months from now, it'll settle in: I have moved. (!!!!)

I didn't think I'd ever want to leave sunny California. It's where all my family is; where the produce is fresh and abundant; where I can always find Guerrero tortillas, sometimes in the 30 pack. But I found myself wanting more than what LA has to offer, or at least wanting something different. 

This is different all right--just the weather alone reminds me that I'm not in SoCal anymore. While you guys are having a heat wave in the middle of November, I'm piling clothes on top of the winter coat I already put on in California (subconscious acts on my part to eat my way to warmth). The leaves are falling off the trees, but not before they turn those colors you see on TV, or on the fake wreaths you can buy for autumnal affectation. And it rains a lot. And the weather channels keep threatening us with snow. 

I did, however, have a mini oh-the-gods!-i-am-now-living-in-Chicago-moment last night as I was looking at all my short-sleeved shirts wondering if really thick thermals would look good underneath them. It was a brief one. A little spike on my (ever active) emotional Richter scale.

Boxes, bags, and boogers

Don't know how it happened, but I'm at the end of Wednesday. 

Sunday was wonderfully spent with my family. (Thank you very much momma).

Monday was lunch with the parents, business being take care of, and dinner with a friend. Tuesday, voted (of course!), and Disneyland with family.

Today? More lovely, wonderful, generous family around to help.

We filled up not only boxes, but bags. Bags of things that should probably have been recycled.

I will say a full rosary for my penance (and theirs). 

I'm feeling numb, and I have a cold. But that is what happens when stress reverberates like the thud thud from a super woofer, so much so that the neighbors feel it. 

I've got all this work I have to do (eyes and throat begin to itch)

I'm going to (cough) miss "....", (cough cough).

I'm really (sneeze) going to miss ".....", sneeze sneeze cough, eyes burn.

So when I'm saying my farewells, my eyes will be red and swollen, my nose red and chapped, my voice on the scary tranny side, and my hands filled with gooey tissues.

But my arms will still be wide open expecting your hug and my cheek ready for your kiss. 

Don't disappoint!

I am so, so much looking forward to spending the weekend in Chicago after our Tuesday. 

The city will be buzzing with pride and excitement. I'll tell you all about it.

Clearance--Everything Must Go!!!

Early last week, I went through my apartment and started piling things in the living room for a yard sale.  Considering I've been living in this apartment for 13 years, there was quite a bit stashed away, like little nuts or rusty cans in a b-shelter, just waiting. Goodbye blood-red platform shoes! So long sweater that I haven't used since 1999! Fare-thee-well heating pad from the 1960's!

It is such a liberating feeling to rid oneself of earthly goods. Okay fine. Not earthly goods, but crap.  I feel so cleansed--like I had a high colonic or something. 

My mommabear spent the night on Friday.  Saturday morning we had an early start. Twice we were rained on. But the day was super sunny, cloudy, sunny, cloudy, chilly, hot, beautiful.

I had high hopes that as soon as I started laying out all the goods (crap) I wanted to get rid of, the sounds of screeching tires, doors slamming, and footsteps hurriedly walking my way would preface "ooooh I want that, how much?" That is not quite how it happened. But I did manage to make a hundy and some change, thanks to all the paisa's that were walking by. 

I was completely done-exhausted that is-by the end. Not just because I started my day so early or because of all the physical work involved, but also because the reason I was selling things: I'm moving on. I'm moving physically, emotionally, mentally. And most definitely yes, it is exciting. But the sadness that seeps in, i.e. the mourning of one phase of life, should be acknowledged. Even if it is with my favorite blanky and deep sleep.

Filling up bags, but not with candy....

Halloween is one of my favorite things in this world. So much so, that I usually look forward to the next as soon as the last one finishes. Last year, I celebrated it with some friends and family at the Dia de los Muertos gala at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery. If you live in the LA area, I strongly recommend that you go, it's magical! And the food is damn good, but there ain't nothing good or magical about the parking.

This Halloween, I have had my butt parked on my couch for the past few hours as I systematically separate paperwork into shred or recycle piles. I'm not wearing a costume, my outside lights are off, and there is no candy in the house, but things still seem a bit scary. The fact that I have managed to keep all this fucking paperwork,  alphabetized and in chronological order, stashed in various places around my small two-bedroom apartment means that I've got more issues than I thought! Scary, no? Scary that I found paperwork from Mount Saint Mary's College that were filled out BY HAND. Meaning...no forms filled out on secure websites because there were no secure websites for the general public back then. Good lord....I remember carbon copies! Now that shit is scary.

What is not scary, to me anyways, is that the reason I am going through all my paperwork is because I am making room for a new roommate (great girl) to take over the place while I am gone.  For some, a move like the one I'm going to make may seem like it's filled with more tricks than treats. But call me selfish if you like...I'm gonna take the whole damn bowl.

Eight days left of flip-flops and tank tops.

On November 7th, at 10:53 in the morning, I'm leaving for Chicago. Not to visit, or for bidness, but to live.  Yes live. You heard me (read me) correctly. Live. 

This diehard LA native is moving to the midwest! 

I perhaps could have picked a better time of year to move east, my feet alone are going to freak. After 33 years of exposed toes, they and the rest of my feet will be feeling claustro-freakin-phobic in waterproofed, highly-insulated clunkers that will most likely be lacking in style.

So, I've decided to document the week leading up to my departure, knowing that I'll have much to say, cry, whine, appreciate, laugh, and bitch about the whole experience. And then, I figured, I'll continue recording my thoughts as I observe and become accustomed to the strange habits and rituals of the local natives.  And why not share? So--I blog. Here is my blog. Blog. Blogettyblogblogblog.

Tomorrow I begin the departure breakdown (interpret that as you will), because tomorrow begins the week countdown---OH MY GOD!!! A WEEK FROM NOW, I'M GONE!!!!