Welcome home

I've been in Jersey less than 48 hours and my mom has poison ivy (confluent on her arms) and my dad has had one panic attack. A. saw her first deer and her eyes grew huge. My dad wouldn't "allow" me to walk her in the neighborhood alone at night and we had words. Plus, A. was a ball of anxiety the entire flight from PDX here. That is putting it mildly. She also got into a terrible dog fight at her own going away party at Tabor, which included a visit to Dove Lewis.

Welcome home.

I also suffered a mild wave of panic while walking down the block - what had I done? What was my plan? I spied the corner where there used to be a huge, magnificent tree, of course chopped down, what had I done? We loved our neighborhood and our routine. But somehow I knew that nothing would ever changed if I stayed there. Things might not become "bad" but they'd not become joyous either.

Back here, this is the neighborhood I grew up in, the house i lived in since 3. On a walk with A. my dad pointed out the houses where people had yelled at him about our old family dog. They didn't want him walked near their lawns. Why? I don't get it. My mom pointed out a different neighbor, right next door, she told me they don't say hello and neither does she or the husband. Does this mean I'm supposed to act like I don't see them too? Are my own parents haters?

In Portland we knew almost all our neighbors and they knew us. I may not have been inside most of their houses but everyone was chatty, friendly, smiley, pleasant. Our last couple of days were spent in a neighbor's house while she was at the coast - she offered her place to A. and I. The adorable neighbor children came by to say goodbye to me, but mostly A. It was a very sweet day and one child even burst into tears.

A bit different here on the East Coast.

Thank god for my cyberfiance in LA. Every girl should have one. We have yet to meet but already I'm wondering about how I might get back there. To live? To visit? To...I don't know what. I made the mistake of telling my parents about him and they are convinced he doesn't have a job. Don't worry, I instructed them on how they should react in the future. I told my mom:

Be enthusiastic. Be supportive. Then, stop speaking.

Since then she's played the part. God help her for taking instruction well. MLAM/Some Guy does have a job, fyi but the hours are flexible. We talked on the phone for 8 hours yesterday. That's EIGHT. Not one, not two. But four plus four, four times two, seven plus one. That's crazy. That's ridiculous. That's effed up. That's awesome.

I thrill myself. And how do I spend my days? Perusing jetblue's website.