So much has happened...
As it does...
Where do you start... when ample time has passed?
In the last few weeks I've... bought a wedding dress, made latkes, gone to mass, hot-tubbed, read many books, had meetings with editors, hugged my sister, noshed on good bagels, chatted with old old old family friends until 2 am, slept on couches, ridden subways, looked at "home" with new (always new) eyes, bought too many presents, run out of money, lit candles, gotten my hair cut by Tomo (who spoke no English), eaten Dominican, Mexican, Thai, Indian and French, researched Freak Shows, let my email sit for days on end (which NEVER happens), seen good bands in Brooklyn, signed onto my Dad's safe deposit box, taken my mom to the airport, taken Chris to the airport, fought, prayed, worn big hoop earrings for the first time in ten years, watched three movies in theaters and about 10 on video, made new friends, drunk wine, drunk beer, drunk whiskey, drunk juice, drunk tea, drunk coffee, slept a ton, been jealous, felt fat, lost my temper, controlled my temper, done the dishes, apologized, listened to my mother, etc. etc. etc.
Been a good vacation, but now, home for the holidays, I'm missing my other home. I'm missing Dave and Hassle and my own messy house and yard in Iowa.
Chris was here for a few days, and at some point we were passing Herring Run Park (near my Dad's house) and the resevoir, and I said, "If we ever live in Baltimore I'd like to live in one of THOSE rowhouses on the res."
And Chris laughed.
I said "What?"
He laughed again and snickered, "You are totally delusional about the rowhouses!"
I harumphed.
Later, when we got home, I curled up next to him and said, "I guess I AM a little delusional about the rowhouses, but I don't care. It's Baltimore."
And he nodded.
He said, "Yeah, it's okay. I'm the same way about Coralville."
Which he is.
The Coralville where Chris grew up... was a small town near Iowa City. There were fields there, and creeks and parks and houses.
But then they built a mall, and now it's a hugely congested strip of muffler shops and TGIFridays and car washes and Dunkin Donuts. Parking lots. And new developments.
Which is the opposite of my home.
Baltimore is a place where all the businesses are dying and the houses are being left. Increasingly so, unless you're in one of the gentrifying areas my generation is adopting and restoring(Hampden, Charles Village, Canton, etc.) It's getting emptier, more LEFT.
An interesting idea.... how I refuse to see the emptiness of my home, and how Chris can't really see the infestation of his own.
Or we both see it, but prefer our memories.
But with Chris here, I could suddenly see the boarded up houses along North Avenue. I could see so many places I've shopped and eaten and walked... for the ugly abandoned buildings they've become. It was sad and honest, and it didn't change my love for this city, but I could see what outsiders see, when they aren't at the Harbor, or Cafe Hon, or the Senator, or Thames Street.
I could see a lot of trash.
But then we went to the Lex for lunch, and there was a jazz band, and we got sandwiches from Mary Mervis, and watched all the people, and Dad told us about how the West Market dates back to the Jim Crow days.
And Chris said, "I like Lexington Market."
Which made me feel all warm and good, especially since I was full of corned beef. Even though I know, as we make our Vegas plans, that he'll never want to live in my row house.
So we're still looking for someplace in the middle. Someplace full of people, but not bursting with them. Someplace where the stores aren't boarded up, but they also aren't corporate malls.
Someplace where plenty is more than enough.
Where do you start... when ample time has passed?
In the last few weeks I've... bought a wedding dress, made latkes, gone to mass, hot-tubbed, read many books, had meetings with editors, hugged my sister, noshed on good bagels, chatted with old old old family friends until 2 am, slept on couches, ridden subways, looked at "home" with new (always new) eyes, bought too many presents, run out of money, lit candles, gotten my hair cut by Tomo (who spoke no English), eaten Dominican, Mexican, Thai, Indian and French, researched Freak Shows, let my email sit for days on end (which NEVER happens), seen good bands in Brooklyn, signed onto my Dad's safe deposit box, taken my mom to the airport, taken Chris to the airport, fought, prayed, worn big hoop earrings for the first time in ten years, watched three movies in theaters and about 10 on video, made new friends, drunk wine, drunk beer, drunk whiskey, drunk juice, drunk tea, drunk coffee, slept a ton, been jealous, felt fat, lost my temper, controlled my temper, done the dishes, apologized, listened to my mother, etc. etc. etc.
Been a good vacation, but now, home for the holidays, I'm missing my other home. I'm missing Dave and Hassle and my own messy house and yard in Iowa.
Chris was here for a few days, and at some point we were passing Herring Run Park (near my Dad's house) and the resevoir, and I said, "If we ever live in Baltimore I'd like to live in one of THOSE rowhouses on the res."
And Chris laughed.
I said "What?"
He laughed again and snickered, "You are totally delusional about the rowhouses!"
I harumphed.
Later, when we got home, I curled up next to him and said, "I guess I AM a little delusional about the rowhouses, but I don't care. It's Baltimore."
And he nodded.
He said, "Yeah, it's okay. I'm the same way about Coralville."
Which he is.
The Coralville where Chris grew up... was a small town near Iowa City. There were fields there, and creeks and parks and houses.
But then they built a mall, and now it's a hugely congested strip of muffler shops and TGIFridays and car washes and Dunkin Donuts. Parking lots. And new developments.
Which is the opposite of my home.
Baltimore is a place where all the businesses are dying and the houses are being left. Increasingly so, unless you're in one of the gentrifying areas my generation is adopting and restoring(Hampden, Charles Village, Canton, etc.) It's getting emptier, more LEFT.
An interesting idea.... how I refuse to see the emptiness of my home, and how Chris can't really see the infestation of his own.
Or we both see it, but prefer our memories.
But with Chris here, I could suddenly see the boarded up houses along North Avenue. I could see so many places I've shopped and eaten and walked... for the ugly abandoned buildings they've become. It was sad and honest, and it didn't change my love for this city, but I could see what outsiders see, when they aren't at the Harbor, or Cafe Hon, or the Senator, or Thames Street.
I could see a lot of trash.
But then we went to the Lex for lunch, and there was a jazz band, and we got sandwiches from Mary Mervis, and watched all the people, and Dad told us about how the West Market dates back to the Jim Crow days.
And Chris said, "I like Lexington Market."
Which made me feel all warm and good, especially since I was full of corned beef. Even though I know, as we make our Vegas plans, that he'll never want to live in my row house.
So we're still looking for someplace in the middle. Someplace full of people, but not bursting with them. Someplace where the stores aren't boarded up, but they also aren't corporate malls.
Someplace where plenty is more than enough.
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