Happy Anniversary, STL!

Yesterday marked the one-year anniversary of my move to STL. I've gotta say, it's been a good year, totally validating my decision to move here.

A few things I love about living in the city (because I also love to make lists):

* My friends, obviously. We've had spontaneous game nights, we've celebrated birthdays and babies, we've grown together through Bible Study, we've met up for breakfast club. We don't see each other every weekend, but it is so good to know that there's almost always someone I can call to meet me for dinner.

* THE FOOD. From Food Truck  Fridays to The Hill to tapas restaurants to the Mexican joint within walking distance from my house to amazing pizza to all the restaurants in charming old buildings to billy goat chips . . . I never tire of eating here. Which explains why I gained five pounds within a month. I'm proud to say I've mastered a balance of eating delicious food and staying healthy, though, and I've shed those five pounds plus another 17 . . .

* Which is kind of a point in itself. Living in the city, you encounter a lot more health-conscious people. It was annoying at first, because I felt like the most overweight person my age, but it quickly motivated me to actually get off my butt and quit being so complacent about my weight.

* All the old houses and the varied architecture. The gingerbread houses in South City are the best.

* The parks! Seriously, no matter where you live, you can walk to a park. Or at least bike to one. I'm pretty sure I spent the entire spring season floating on a cloud over Tower Grove Park with daisies in my hair.

* Forest Park deserves its own section, because there's the Zoo and the Science Center and the History Museum and the trails and the Boathouse and Post-Dispatch Lake where you can rent paddle boats and kayaks, and there's the World's Fair pavilion and there's even a few things I haven't done yet like SLAM and  the Muny and ice skating.

* I finally understand why people from St. Louis would complain about the Columbia Mall in college. Seriously, I've never dressed better (although not at all claiming to be fashionable).

* Cardinals games! I love being able to think, "We should go to the game," and actually do it that same day. No advance planning, no taking off work, no hotel room.

* There's something going on every single weekend. I find it impossible to be bored in this city. I've been to a  food-tasting festival in the streets of Maplewood, watched a concert under the Arch and bundled up for Christmas lights at the Zoo, just to name a few.

* City Museum, because where else is it acceptable for grown adults to climb through an obstacle course made from re-purposed building supplies?

* I've been exceptionally lucky here. Through the STL Social Media Club, I got to go to a restaurant opening, where they comped our entire meal (I'm contractually obligated to recommend everyone eat at Vida in the Galleria). A Board member's business was celebrating their anniversary with a street party, where food trucks were serving up free food. And after I dropped my business card in at Noodles & Company, they treated my entire office to a free tasting lunch. Um . . . all of those things had to do with food again. Oh well.

* And finally, no more long-distance relationship! For the first 1.5 years of dating, J and I only saw each other every-other weekend. Being able to see him almost every day has obviously strengthened our relationship and helped us move forward. Plus, now I get to see the dog every day, too.

I think it's safe to say that my love affair with this city is just beginning. And also, that St. Louis doesn't suck. 

PS, Sorry this post doesn't have photos. I tried. Blogger and Picasa are not my friends right now.

The Path of Most Resistance

Nobody said it was easy / No one ever said it would be this hard
-Coldplay

My first night in St. Louis included a 2 am wake-up call by tornado sirens. Huddled in my 5’10” basement, I watched as water seeped in and puddled on the floor. Tears welled up in my eyes. I hate tornadoes, and this was hard. Two hours later, I woke up again to the sound of hail hitting my already rattling windows.

A couple of days later, after my landlord finally installed my dryer, I was relieved to catch up on laundry. I had gotten all caught up before moving my first load to the new apartment, and after more than two weeks, I was out of everything. I ran down to pull out my towels and discovered … they hadn’t dried at all. My landlord came back and realized that the gas line wasn’t hooked up. The next time I used it, it was leaking gas. Over the next several uses, I learned that only one setting actually has heat, and it doesn’t shut off automatically. I should mention this all spanned about three weeks. To date, I haven’t gotten totally caught up. I don’t mind doing laundry, but this is hard.

When we tried to install my cabinet shelves, they didn’t all fit. The first time I used my dishwasher, it didn’t drain all the way. My antique lock broke, and I locked myself out overnight. My bathroom mirror was up so high, I could only see from my chin up. The first time I used my oven, it set off the smoke alarm. I loved the idea of a newly renovated apartment, but this was hard.

Once I learned to sleep through the rattling of my bedroom windows and the traffic on my street (which had appeared desolate when we first viewed the place), I was awakened by a whole new set of noises. Creaks, pops and groans seemed to echo through my house at random, all night. By the time I realized it was caused by the heating duct work of two apartments snaking across my basement ceiling, I had worked myself up to the point where I was lucky if I got five hours of uninterrupted sleep. Sleep had become stressful. Even knowing it was the heater, and that the noises were worst right after the heater turned off, every noise sounded like someone was in my back stairwell.

I sat on my bed and had Jeremie open and close both the front and the back door so I’d know what it sounded like. It sounded nothing like the noises at night. I slept about three hours that night. After waking up every hour the next night, I called Jeremie at 3:45 am, desperate for any distraction. He remarkably woke up, even though he’s the heaviest sleeper I know. Fifteen minutes into our phone call, someone tried to break into his house. I’m not even kidding. He heard two loud bangs on his front door, his dog went crazy, and he called the cops. Nothing else happened, but the next day we saw two muddy kick marks on his door.

I’ve wanted – so badly – for YEARS – to live in St. Louis. But man, this is freaking hard.

I finally said out loud what I’d been embarrassed to admit. When I lie in bed and hear those noises, even though I know it’s just the heater, my tired mind goes to ridiculous places. Here’s some example dialogue: I wonder why the last lady moved out of this apartment after 20 years. Maybe she died. Maybe she died in this apartment. Maybe she was murdered. Maybe that’s why my landlord renovated. Maybe she doesn’t like that I’m living here.

In case you’ve ever had thoughts like that, try telling them to someone else. Their reaction will help you realize how preposterous you sound. Those thoughts out of my head, my parents came to visit. They had several suggestions and ultimately loaned me a noisy fan. Finally, I’ve slept through a couple of nights now and I’m hoping I’m over it.

They say it’s not worth having if it’s easy. They say good things come to those who wait.

I could have chosen not to get a divorce. Say what you will about whether it was the right decision or not, but I definitely chose the hard way.

I could have skipped DivorceCare, but I wouldn’t have learned anything from my mistakes. I could have rushed into marriage with the first viable candidate and been past all of this a long time ago, but I would have ended up exactly where I started.

I could have stayed in Jeff City, but my life would have been stagnant. I could have looked at apartments in the suburbs, but that would have been giving in to fear. I could have moved in with Jeremie, sacrificing everything I’ve been trying to build within myself for the past two years. I chose the hard way.  

I believe that when you push yourself, you grow. When you choose the hard way, you learn more about yourself. When you deal with difficulty, you become more confident in your abilities.

When I started considering changing my life, I remember thinking that just thinking about it was hard. I had no idea what was ahead of me. I know I am changing. I am growing, and I am a different person than I was. I’m choosing to do things on my own. I’m making the life I want. Not because it is easy, but because it is hard.

Goodbye, JCMO!

With as much as I've complained about Jeff City, I've found myself pretty nostalgic the past couple of weeks. I've lived/worked here more than half of my life. I still think I'm meant for a bigger city, but there are a lot of things I'll miss. Yes, they're mostly food-related. So I like food. There are worse things.

- Arris' Pizza and now Arris' Bistro (on my brain because my parents treated me tonight)
- The chocolate chip cookies at Brick House Deli
- Katy Trail
- My parents
- The spiral-cut homemade chips at Lutz's BBQ
- Chim's Thai Kitchen (seriously the best Thai I've ever had)
- All the Cubies in Cubeland
- My three-minute commute to work
- Having a dishwasher at work
- El Jimador and marg nights with Katie Lynn
- Pizza and wine nights and long talks with Johanna
- Chipotle lunches with Rob
- Walks on the greenway
- My apartment: the ridiculously low rent, garage and 40 square-foot walk-in closet especially
- Being able to walk to Barnes & Noble, Old Navy and Pier 1
- My parents. Did I already mention that?
- Having only a "rush minute"
- The sunsets
- The tiny sailboats on Binder Lake
- Schaefer House
- The enthusiasm of Jays sports fans
- 4th of July
- Summit Lake Winery

I think Jeff City will always be the place where I grew the most. It's where I struggled to make friends and eventually evolved into a confident, happy teenager. It's where I rebelled and probably scared the crap out of my parents a few times. It's where I got my first job and my first REAL job. It's where I had my first date and my first kiss. It's where I first fell in love and first felt real heartbreak. It's where I learned to drive. It's where I danced in the Capitol fountains the night before moving away to college. It's where I got married. It's where I first lived alone. It's where I struggled to pull myself out of depression after the divorce. It's where I have felt safe. It's where I have felt at home.

In less than a week, my only possessions that reside in Jeff City will be a drawer full of Babysitters Club books and a few boxes of old schoolwork. And years and years worth of memories.

Goodbye, Jeff City. Thank you for loving me even when I didn't love you back.