Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Goodbye Florida (but for real this time)

Dealing with last week's goodbye's wasn't as hard as I made it seem.  I mean, when you take a step back and look at my week, it was really more a parade of a bit more sushi and a lot more laundry than anything.  I still went to bed in West Palm.  Still got up and ate my daily bowl of oatmeal.  Still put on my pants and fiddled with a bit of chemistry.

But yesterday was the real deal.  The day started off like all my other faux-goodbye's: a few slightly emotional hours that were mostly overshadowed by really good food


And even better company


But then I found myself at the airport.  It wasn't until I was halfway through my ritualistic grande Starbuck's hot tea that it hit me - it's over.  I'm really not coming back.


Dealing with unexpected surges of emotion isn't exactly my forte.  I ran through the list of normal responses to this situation, dismissing them one by one: play an instrument in a dimly lit room.  Note to self: invest in guitar.  Vent in my diary.  Add diary to hypothetical mope-ery list.  Eat fistfuls of butter by the judgmental light of the refrigerator door.  Well, that's actually not reasonable at all.

So I dealt with my confusing emotional burden by excessively chatting with the lady next to me (which really isn't any more reasonable than fistfuls of butter).

Turns out, though, that the unfortunate victim of my misguided emotional confusion was not only quite interesting, but extremely welcome to a good chat.  We had almost a West Palm to Baltimore length conversation that spanned from my upcoming move to Chicago to her nephew, Zach Streif.  In case you don't know who Zach Streif is, he's this guy:


an offensive tackle for the Saints.  Turns out, this lady gets to see her nephew pretty regularly - from places like the end-zone of Super Bowl games - and has been known to attend a few after-parties with her ol' chum, Drew - aka Super Bowl XLIV MVP quarterback, Drew Brees.  Maybe I should do a bit more excessive chatting; you never know when you're going to run in to the blood-relative of a friend of an NFL super star.

Somehow, learning some inappropriate details of this guy's personal life calmed me enough to continue with my impending life upheaval.  So here I am, one day into my two day mini-vacation at home before running head first into my brand new life.  And what a grand day it has been.

It started with a bit of meandering around the house with my sleepy friend, Jazz:


A lovely construed-by-the-gods  lunch (i.e. a salad of mixed greens topped with chicken, roasted pine nuts, strawberries, and goat cheese), compliments of my mom:


And wrapped up with two of the greatest things known to man, sushi and Sam Clarke:


We finished dinner with the usual fortune-cookies, gifts given to ease the pain of receiving the check.  On that note, I'm not totally convinced that there isn't some Asian cookie-maker conspiracy to subliminally tell me that I'm lazy. I added tonight's fortune to the collection I keep in my wallet from past sushi dinners.  I think of this collection as my personal little Japanese life-coach hiding among my loose change.


I'm looking forward to what the rest of the week will bring for me and my fictitious little Asian friend.  :)


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