chillow

Four weeks ago Adam and I rented a yellow Penske truck and hauled the entire contents of our Hell's Kitchen apartment across the country. Three weeks ago we landed in our up-and-coming (a.k.a. very slightly skethcy but mostly fantastic) neighborhood in Oakland. Two weeks ago I turned in my first bitty piece for the alt weekly newspaper I'm now working for and breathed a huge sigh of relief that I could, in fact, still crank out a story on deadline. One week ago it sunk in that we're really LIVING here. That we're not on some extended work-play holiday, but actually staying here. For good. (Until I get a job as a foreign correpondent for a major media org in, say, Turkey.) Bye-bye semi-truly glamorous magazine editor job in the big city (my colleagues at Marie Claire moved into what critics are calling the best new building to hit the Manhattan skyline in decades just days after I left), hello hard news reporter gig in a one-story building in another big city that seems much, much smaller. Yet full of opportunties. My fingers are crossed! (Makes typing hard...)