Transplanted

So this site is for people who have left the comfort of their longtime (sometimes lifetime) communities for new opportunities elsewhere. I suppose my story is a little interesting because I had only lived in one state since the age of 12–add a couple decades and you know why this has been an adjustment. But, I was surprised by how “easy” the first few months were in Atlanta. Sure I was a little freaked out, but all in all, I was patient with the change and thrilled by new experiences. Now that we’re nearing the one-year mark I’m sort of thinking I should be over it by now, but I’m not.

My Mom came for a visit last week and it was great to have her here, but I figured that when she left I’d happily go about trying to find some freelance work and a new place to live. Instead I find myself thinking about all the people I know who are so, so SO far away. And then I thought “are they?”

A friend called from Salt Lake and it made me tear up. But you know I didn’t see that person in Salt Lake more than once a year. In fact, isn’t it true that most of us are so busy with our lives that seeing friends “regularly” means once every couple of months–unless you work with them or live close by? Even my Mom and I would often go weeks without seeing each other. So what is it about putting 2,000 miles in between these people that should make a difference? I decided it was time for a reality check. 

Utah distance reminder:

By Plane: 4 hours

By Car: 3 days

By bicycle: A few months

Conclusion: Utah isn’t the moon, although on your first visit from some place like New York it just might feel like it, and Atlanta isn’t a galaxy far, far away.

So I’ve experienced every season in The ATL. The leaves have changed (sorta) and the temperatures have dipped (a little). Tornado warnings have come and gone (and so have a few of my neighbors’ homes) and our one-year lease is nearly up and we’re asking ourselves the big questions: How do we like it here? Are we glad we made the move? How much longer do we want to call this place home?

Well, the answers aren’t that earth shattering. The ATL is a fine city; it has great food, lots to do and really nice weather. But it also lacks character, a distinction that once you smell the air here you know it’s Atlanta. So, we’re giving The ATL a B-.

Are we glad we moved? Yes. It has been a great opportunity for Brandon and I’m still figuring mine out.

Is this home? Not yet, but some people say it took them a long time to really get into Atlanta. Maybe that will be the case for us, too. In the mean time, I’m going to enjoy this nice spring weather before the “hot” that gives this city it’s only true distinction hits.

So I may have mentioned in a “quickie” that Facebook has been a great way for me to be able to stay connected with people “back home.”  Through their status updates and picture posted I know when it’s snowing or raining–and sometimes when it’s sunny, too. When a political scandal breaks, I’m one of the first outsiders to know. But the best part is just reading what my sister or my friends or my cousins or my ex-coworker are thinking and doing.  It makes not knowing very many people here a little easier. But I’m also realizing that there is such as thing as too much Facebook (gasp!) and here are some examples:

1. I feel a little lonely but rather than talk to my very much alive and in person husband, I’m checking status updates.

2. Since I work from home I have a lot of time to myself. On days when it’s slow I sometimes catch myself thinking in status updates like: “Kristy is getting into the shower that desperately needs a cleaning” and “Kristy is going to jog outside to get the mail” and “Kristy wishes her cat would start talking already!” A hundred or so of those in my head and I will go nuts!

3. I friend too many people, folks I didn’t really “get on” with even when I really knew them. In one particular case, a rather acerbic “friend” tweets non-stop with often negative commentary. It might come down to an unfriendly situation.

4. I’m tempted to change my photo nearly every day. I don’t, of course, because only really vain people do that, right? I’m not making those sort of announcements. I have my pride, after all.

5.  Facebook simply distracts from getting outside, out into the great unknown world that is The ATL.

So, maybe it’s time for a break…or at least a little less time spent on it every day.

So I moved to Atlanta from Salt Lake City nearly 10 months ago and I’m finding that the transition period continues. Recently my job status changed from staff to freelance writer and the change has left me a little unsettled. I suppose part of the reason has to do with being in a new place without having a network of people to support my endeavors. Plus, it just seems that new things in a new place feel extra new and perhaps lengthen that transition thing. Which, ultimately, is just fine.

Well, my apologies to anyone who has been reading this blog–I haven’t posted anything in a few weeks. I’ll blame it on being busy or out of town in addition to some apathy about continuing this blog.

Originally I thought the idea of having a blog that featured my move to another state would be helpful to other people, and, I admit, to me as I made the transition. And it was, helpful to me that is. But I haven’t gotten the transplant response I was hoping for.

Sure it takes some time for people to discover a blog, but what do I post in the mean time? How interesting is my recent trip to Vegas (I won $200 on Florida in the BCS game, but mainly worked in the hotel room), for example? And I suppose if I was single and less worried about offending people I’d be able to post things that might be more amusing, but I’m not (see, my life directly affects another person’s and that makes it harder to write about things like dildos and neurotic tendencies).

But I’m not quite ready to throw in the towel, yet. So you’ll like see more posts, at least from time to time, and I promise to try to make them at least a little more interesting.  

Man, it’s amazing how much you can appreciate your family during the Holidays if you recently moved to another state (not that I didn’t appreciate them before). It also may have been the lack of snow in Atlanta and the near blizzard conditions, but I caught a heavy dose of the Christmas spirit when I was in Salt Lake.

My very sweet mother put us up for a few days:

And decorated her house in perfect Paula fashion:

And although I had to work while I was there, we got to see lots of our friends, too. In fact, we were going pretty much non-stop from the 22nd to the 27th when we flew back to Atlanta, but it was well worth it. We’re lucky to have such great friends.

Here are a few more highlights from Christmas Eve:

 (Me and my sister.)

 (My cousin Brittany, her husband and little boy, Finn.)

 (My nephew and niece opening their presents.)

 (The adults watching patiently?)

It was a great Christmas. Here’s hoping the New Year is, too.

About a year ago I was watching TV an hour or so before bed when I caught the faint smell of mint. Too engrossed in the show to get up and investigate, I blew it off. Then I turned off the TV and went into our bedroom. That was my first mistake. When I hit the entryway a tidal wave of menthol blasted my senses, nearly knocking me to the ground (okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but bear with me). Seems Brandon had some sore muscles and decided to treat them with Tiger Balm. I was new to the product, so, after regaining my footing, I climbed into bed and figured I’d get used to it. Wrong.

The smell was so strong it kept me awake and after an hour or so I ended up sleeping on our downstairs couch, not at all happy about it either. Brandon felt so badly about the incident he vowed to never use Tiger Balm again in my presence–especially at night. Fast forward six months.

We’re in Atlanta. Brandon’s gone to bed. I’m reading in the living room when a familiar minty smell hits my nostrils. Too engrossed in my book to investigate, I keep reading. When I hit the entryway of our bedroom…yeah, he did it again. This time he decided that he’d put a turtle neck over it as though that would trap in the stench–listen, there’s a reason they call it Tiger Balm! I’m not sure a steel cage would be enough to trap it. The next morning after finding me sleeping in our guest room I got the same apology, and the same promises.

Fast forward two months to tonight. I’m enjoying my dinner. Brandon’s bouncing a basketball on the hardwood floors of our rental. I catch the mild smell of, yeah, Tiger Balm! This time he figured it wouldn’t be such a big deal because he was leaving to go play basketball. Well, guess what? The smell of The Tiger still lingers a half an hour after he left.

And here’s what I don’t get: Each time he used The Tiger he opted not to tell me he was putting it on. I try to imagine him rubbing the pungent salve on his neck or arms or whatever thinking, “Hmm, pretty sure this stuff stinks and I seem to recall Kristy wasn’t so wild about it. Should I say something? Nah. I’ll just put on a turtle neck. Yeah, that’ll work.” So I’ve decided it’s enough of the promises and the “I’ll never do it agains.” I’m going to go find that Tiger Balm and hide it. Three strikes and you’re out, Mr. Griggs.