Not quite sure why, but I've been so homesick lately. Actually, I think I know what may have instigated it...thoughts of running the Five Points of Life marathon (or what's more likely, the half) back in Gainesville next year. My mom suggested it and she's right- would make for a great trip home during what is the most miserable time in the Northeast- FEBRUARY. Blech. I looked at the race course online- it goes through all of the Gainesvegas highlights and my head spins just thinking about the Sonny's pork-on-garlic waiting after the finish line.
It made me realize that even though I've gone back home for the holidays for the past approximately 3.5 years, I really haven't spent time doing anything more than rushing around from family event to family event (and by event I of course mean meal after meal during which I challenge myself to consecutive eating contests). Because my parents are divorced, and all four of my "parents" have medium to large-sized families in the area, my trips home are a mad dash to see as many people as possible. We're talking quantity, not quality. In the past few years I have managed to do (what I would consider to be) tons of foreign and domestic traveling in addition to making it home for holidays, graduations, etc., which means my trips back to "the 'Ville" have been painfully brief. I am longing for some time in Gainesville somethin' fierce. How ironic?! I have spent most of my life trying to get out of Gainesville and see the world. Not exactly a settle-down-in-my-hometown kind of girl. In fact I have recently decided that the nation's capitol is just a little too small potatoes and am studying for NY bar exam in July to consider moving to an even bigger pond in Manhattan (ok, forget the size of the potatoes, the truth is I'm in love with an Irishman in that zip code).
I can't honestly say that I don't ever think of moving back home. The thought has crossed my mind but it is, and continues to be, the result of some fleeting nostalgic moment. Some contributory factors: the mid-Atlantic winter from hell, the tempting glitz and glam of being a big fish in a small pond, maybe running for office in Florida, and, most importantly, being closer to Susan T. Sholtes et al. But I know myself well enough to say that I would outgrow Gainesville all over again and it would take me a lot less than 25 years this time.
So for now I'll turn on the "local" news consisting of scenes from Senate hearings (instead of Paige Beck updating on a GPD bust), I'll polish the hardwood floors in my 600 square-foot condo that cost more than the average single family estate in Alachua County, I'll cheer for Georgetown's basketball team (the only thing remotely close to a college sports experience), hop on the metro to get to French class at the embassy (instead of at Cafe Gardens over a beer), and take my granny cart to Whole Foods to spend the other half of my paycheck on organic avocados and champagne (when I'd truthfully just prefer some chicken 'n dumplings and sweet tea). Not my natural habitat, but not exactly roughing it...
It made me realize that even though I've gone back home for the holidays for the past approximately 3.5 years, I really haven't spent time doing anything more than rushing around from family event to family event (and by event I of course mean meal after meal during which I challenge myself to consecutive eating contests). Because my parents are divorced, and all four of my "parents" have medium to large-sized families in the area, my trips home are a mad dash to see as many people as possible. We're talking quantity, not quality. In the past few years I have managed to do (what I would consider to be) tons of foreign and domestic traveling in addition to making it home for holidays, graduations, etc., which means my trips back to "the 'Ville" have been painfully brief. I am longing for some time in Gainesville somethin' fierce. How ironic?! I have spent most of my life trying to get out of Gainesville and see the world. Not exactly a settle-down-in-my-hometown kind of girl. In fact I have recently decided that the nation's capitol is just a little too small potatoes and am studying for NY bar exam in July to consider moving to an even bigger pond in Manhattan (ok, forget the size of the potatoes, the truth is I'm in love with an Irishman in that zip code).
I can't honestly say that I don't ever think of moving back home. The thought has crossed my mind but it is, and continues to be, the result of some fleeting nostalgic moment. Some contributory factors: the mid-Atlantic winter from hell, the tempting glitz and glam of being a big fish in a small pond, maybe running for office in Florida, and, most importantly, being closer to Susan T. Sholtes et al. But I know myself well enough to say that I would outgrow Gainesville all over again and it would take me a lot less than 25 years this time.
So for now I'll turn on the "local" news consisting of scenes from Senate hearings (instead of Paige Beck updating on a GPD bust), I'll polish the hardwood floors in my 600 square-foot condo that cost more than the average single family estate in Alachua County, I'll cheer for Georgetown's basketball team (the only thing remotely close to a college sports experience), hop on the metro to get to French class at the embassy (instead of at Cafe Gardens over a beer), and take my granny cart to Whole Foods to spend the other half of my paycheck on organic avocados and champagne (when I'd truthfully just prefer some chicken 'n dumplings and sweet tea). Not my natural habitat, but not exactly roughing it...
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