Can I make that house payment in Euros?

I had an enlightening conversation today that made me wonder if I should rename this blog: City Girl Takes on Yet Another Adventure.

I miss my friends from The Beach. I miss them all the time. Almost every single day. I haven't been able to put my finger on it. Until today. I had been thinking this lately: Do I still miss them, because they're so much cooler than most other people? Or maybe it's because I just haven't found the perfect set of friends up here just yet. Or is it because I just simply miss them?

The answer is: not quite. I miss them, because they are the rowdiest bunch of adventure seekers I've ever met. There's no doubt in my mind that my motley crew of friends have an insatiable desire to constantly chase adventures the world over. That's our meeting point. The one thing everyone has in common. And everybody's adventure schemes always look different, but it's still the same underlying excitement of seeing new places, meeting new people and trying new things.

Jumping into bodies of water buck-naked? Check!


Anyway, the enlightening conversation went a little something like this:

E: "A friend of mine told me the other day, 'I can't wait for you to have your own house that you can decorate and settle down in.' Not one ounce of me has ever wanted to do that."
CG: "Me either! I had someone tell me the other day how I would stop traveling when I have kids. No I won't!"
E: "Yeah, I don't think I'll ever settle down like that."
CG: "I just always figured that when I finally do have kids I'll just buy another hammock. A baby hammock...for the treehouse we'll live in. Ha!"

The reason this conversation lit up my face and entire day was because while I want to buy a house, I've been sort of dragging my feet about the whole thing and feeling somewhat bummed about the idea. Almost like I was being pressured into living in a big house all alone. I couldn't figure out why. Why wouldn't I want to take the next grown up step? What's the big deal about buying a house? (A cheap house at that!) And it hit me....I never had plans to actually live in it. Everyone else around these parts buys a house to live in it. Raise a family in it. Have dogs running around the yard. I want to buy a house so I can rent it out to weekenders from The City. I have next to no plans of actually spending day after day in between those four walls, working from home and watching daytime TV. I want a house for completely different reasons than the average bear. I want something that pays me to go on adventures.

Can I get an amen!

Love bites.

I recently got half-eaten alive the other night by a surly spider. I woke up with one shoulder much larger and redder than the other which left me horrified and forced to wear nothing but sleeved shirts. Sleeved shirts during the summer in this neck of the woods is like wearing a bikini in Alaska during the winter. It sucks. And so I learned (once again) that living in the country requires you to buddy up with the skin-so-soft bug lotion. The bugs are literally everywhere! It's like nature is constantly in my face!

Yuck.

And then I was bitten by another bug the other day. The real estate bug. The inherent need to buy a house type of bug. I hadn't planned to revisit this idea again so soon, but I just couldn't help myself. I started looking again when I accidentally saw a decent sized house for sale for under $100,000. That's right. Multiple rooms. With a yard. In town. UNDER $100,000!

My city days were sweet. We're talking rent control sweet. The amount I paid each month for rent was unbelievable. Coveted. The apartment wasn't anything over-the-top special, but it was in the heart of the city, had running water, was in a safe neighborhood, and had the most easy-going landlord a girl could ask for. And in the seven years I lived there the rent went up a whole twenty five dollars. It was the very definition of an urban legend.

I can't say that I had plans to actually buy a house the first time around. I was thinking about it. And at one point I took those thoughts seriously. For almost a full 24 hours. But I never envisioned myself owning a house alone. I'm that girl. I've always had the same few thoughts circling my brain since I was five years old. I will get married, move into that house (you know, that house we just so happen to magically own when we say some vows?) and then we'll have kids. It's perfect, really. Although, I have yet to meet anyone that has actually played this exact scenario out. It's usually messier than this. More complicated. And so now I've resigned to the fact that life will probably never go as I planned. In fact, it may be the one thing I can consistently count on!

And I'm OK with this. In fact, I'm more than OK with this. I'm really looking forward to buying a house. To becoming a home owner. A home owner who could possibly end up paying less than six digits for prime real estate.

It's practically an urban legend.

The Ugly Truth

If there's one thing I learned while living in the city it's that everyone wants what everyone else has. You get up early in the morning to get the worm, so to speak, so you can have that "other" thing. The thing that everyone else seems to have that you don't. And you strive and you stress just to get it. (Whatever "it" is.)

I had drinks with an old friend the other night. We were discussing the finer points of life in the country versus the ins and outs of city living. Since I last saw her she has birthed a couple kids and a nice little mortgage. Meanwhile, I traveled the world, partied my brains out and started a business. Our lives couldn't be more opposite.

Then we got down to details: I told her how I've learned that according to the country folk, a girl my age hasn't lived life yet until she's gotten married. (As if that's the only thing she can do!) And she told me how she runs off to the city for a few days, sans the kids, every chance she gets. I was starting to think that I had it all wrong: I had partied and traveled my marrying days away. And here she was telling me that she wished she had more chances to live the single life.

Maybe it's time to cut that greener grass?

In any case, I will still be getting asked by everyone and their cousin why I'm not married yet. And she will still be grasping at her chances to live the single life again. It's the ugly truth. And it followed me from the big city to the back roads of the country. Everyone wants what everyone else has. Even in the sticks.

Zen in Oh Ten

A few years ago I had some roommates that claimed things would be great in '08. And they were right! After having a crappy go-around with 2007, the roommates decided to take the outcome for '08 by the horns and staked their claim that things would turn around. And wouldn't you know it, these feisty girls were right! Life took a turn for the better in 2008. And so we continued with this habit of rhyming an upbeat word with the following year. And as predicted, things were indeed fine in '09.

Since then we all went our separate ways. One by one we all moved out of the Big Yellow House we shared together for years. Some went on to other cities in this fine state while others went to cities in other countries. (And we all know what happened to me!) Talking to my old roomies in the past few months, we have the same thing to say: We're all trying to find the zen in '10.

Or Oh '10, as I like to call it. Ha!

As the world seems to be diminishing around everyone these days, people are striving to make something out of nothing. Life has given us lemons and everyone is doing their darnedest to make some stinkin' lemonade! In fact, I had a little chat with my mom about this very thing this morning. And the question she spit out in an exasperated tone was, "Man, everything is falling apart. When are things going to be fun again?!" To which I thought to myself, "Well, sometimes things are just going to suck. For awhile. But it's all going to be OK." I don't know how I came to this conclusion. I certainly have no hard evidence for this, but I have been making a point lately to take stock of the good things that have happened this year and am looking forward with hope that life will be good again for everyone.

So, my question for you, faithful readers (and lurkers), is how are you finding a little zen in Oh Ten?

We are family.

There's nothing quite like family. They might be the only people you'll ever know who will be there for you when you need them. And they will for sure be some of the few people in your life that you'll ever truly be honest with, vulnerable to, mean to, happy with, sad with, joyous with, grievous with, loving to, and otherwise crazy all around. I forgot all of this in the past few years.

The last five years I've managed to squeeze in a few trips home. A couple of trips here or there. But typically no more than 3 per year. This is not enough. In my mind it was the perfect amount. And all the trips were long enough to catch up, but not have to get too close or overly personal. I have shared many a moment with a roommate or good friend that could have (and sometimes probably should have) been shared with family.

Moving back up here amidst the crazy and dramatic that is my family, I realized today that I've needed them all along. Maybe I didn't want to be this close and maybe I didn't want to have to share my seemingly perfect and wonderful world with them, but deep down I always knew I needed them. I needed them close by. And as it turns out, they've needed me.

This horsey needs room to gallup!

Today I was determined to find fun things to do at The Lake. So far, I'm still a little stumped. I did find fun things to do for a few girls nights out.

Fondue anyone? 

And I did find a couple of cool tours that involve kayaks and wine tastings. I'm sure there's probably some clause about these two things being separate.

Some people just don't know how to have a good time!

But other than that, I've found nothing that's an every week/weekend sort of thing. So, now I'm revisiting an idea I had awhile ago: join the local co-ed softball team.

Little known fact about me: I love sports. In fact, there was a phase in my life where all I would watch was Sports Center and Sex and The City. I know. It's practically a split personality. And for anyone who really knows me and is reading this, you probably feel like I just threw you a real curve ball! (No pun intended.)

My days in SB weren't always spent shopping, going to parties and sleeping in. (Well, maybe the sleeping in part.) There were 3 to 4 solid years spent chasing waves with my surfboard, boogie board or anything that could float and let me ride on the crest of curled salt water. Then there were the years spent doing yoga. Although, I can't remember a time when I haven't kept that practice up. And then there were the last couple of years where I was the captain of an adult kickball team. That's right. I said kickball.

When I'm not on the road, I've spent almost every single day at the gym. It's not my first place to go to for fun, but it's been something to do. And now it's taken me 30 days to become completely restless to the point of going out on a field and hoping someone throws a piece of sports equipment at me. There's just something about running around outside and yelling and screaming in an umpire's face that just makes a girl feel alive!

Brace yourselves. My inner sports nut just might emerge once again.

Thoughts on being nice.

I recently found a bunch of old stuff. The kind of stuff you don't realize you still have until you move. Now for the people who move their futon and toothbrush to a new place every few months, they probably have no idea what I'm talking about. But for the rest of the free world that only moves when they absolutely have to (because they understand the total hassle of packing up and resettling) this stuff has probably surfaced for them at some point, too.

My stuff consisted of a letter I wrote to myself about ten years ago (which turned out to not be as interesting as it sounds), a few scrapbooks and the belongings of an old boyfriend. When it comes to old boyfriends I tend to throw out everything and anything that reminds me of them the day we call it quits. But this guy was a different story. He was my high school sweetheart. He asked me to marry him when we were just kids. (I consider most 20 year olds to be kids. Babies, really.) I told him I wasn't ready and with that we slowly drifted apart. Mostly I pushed us apart, because where else can you go from that point? But anyway, I found a box of his stuff when I moved. I couldn't believe I still had all those love letters and things from almost ten years ago. I also couldn't remember why I had kept them with me when I had first moved away from home. But c'est la vie!

Since we called it quits there were only a couple times that I heard from him through email and letters, but I still wasn't ready to be his friend again. So, I just let it lie. Essentially, I ignored him until he left me alone. So, it's no surprise to me that when I emailed him and asked if he'd like some of his stuff back I didn't hear back from him...except we're adults now. He's about to turn 30 this year, we're friends on FB, he just got a new girlfriend and I figured that he would have the politeness to just give me a yes or no. Apparently, I was wrong. I half want to be upset, but my other half understands. And it's not like I'm trying to send him a bunch of mix tapes. I have legitimate stuff! Things he earned! AWARDS, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!

All this to say, this move didn't just force me to take a look at myself, but all the things that come with being me. Old me. New me. The me I'm working on today.

Moving is a messier undertaking than I had originally thought...