ready, set

It is snowing, snowing, snowing, snowing and snowing some more, in Utah. E. sends me pictures of the Porter puppy frolicking, and he is buried up to his belly. Porter is a big dog. That is a lot of snow. Today, my boots came—they have been called, by some parties, “Star Trek boots.” By other parties, they have been accused of being moon boots. By everyone at work they were called super cute! And also, really cute for being, like, snow boots. And it hit me that I am moving to a place with snow. A lot of it. All of it in the world.

Here’s the good thing—while I would like to go work in cafes and coffee shops, all writerly-like and practically Parisian except not Parisian in any way, shape or form, I do not have to. This job I am going to be doing, it can be done at home. It can be done at home, in my underpants. It can be done sans pants entirely. I can be stark raving naked and typing away! For all you will know, I will produce the next hundred posts completely naked except for a hat! I’m very sorry about that. But my point is—and I do have a point, and it is so pointy!—that I do not have to go out into weather. I will be able to stay cozy at home, naked or not, and weather is practically not even an issue.

Except now I own snow boots. And fancy, high-tech, super-wicking long
underwear and an insanely adorable down plaid coat rated for minus 10
degrees is winging its way toward me. And I made it a point, the other
day, to dig through my tub of miscellaneous accessories—caps and bags
and flip flops and shoes and mice and meat and egg timers and skis and
peace treaties (must clean)—to make sure I actually own things like
hats and scarves and gloves. Luckily, I went to Chicago, once, and in
celebration, bought me a pink hat with a bobble on top (see photo—with
bonus mo pie!—above). The mittens, they are
matching. I have got pink mittens! I am so entirely ready for a Utah
winter! It seems like I am getting ready for a Utah winter.

That makes me happy. I mean, part of it is pretty much as if I am
rotely fulfilling a requirement for state residency, right? You move to
a cold place, you get yourself some cold  weather gear. Duh. But the
psychology behind it—and you know how much I love the totally made-up
psychology—seems to me to be a positive thing. I am looking forward to
going, I’m preparing myself, I’m getting ready, I’m looking ahead, I
am excited to be there and excited to immerse myself in my new
environment! Or I’m just really, really scared of freezing my fucking
ass off. That, too, is a possibility.

But I think it’s a good sign. When I moved to California, lo those so
many years ago, I gave away all my winter gear. All of it. I donated
hats and gloves and scarves and boots and long underwear and most of my
blankets and every single one of my coats. All of them. Everything that you needed to live on the East coast and
not die horribly in a snow drift (note to people moving to San Francisco: do not do that). At one point, I recognized that
impulse—I was full of glee, moving to the sunshine state, state with
all the sunshine in it. I was so excited not just to have warm weather,
but to be in this whole new place, and I wanted to get ready; I
wanted to be prepared, to have no extra baggage, to be set to play
volleyball in a bikini on the beach without having to look for
somewhere to hang my parka and hat.

I am full of glee, to be moving to Utah. Possibly, a weirder sentence
has never been written. But in the middle of all my panic and
preparations and taking care of everything around me, I am also taking
care of myself. I am getting ready. Next stop is Set, and then, so quickly, we’ll be
at Go. Sometimes—and it’s always so lovely when it happens—it can’t
come soon enough.

2 Replies to “ready, set”

  1. I see what went wrong here: the Sunshine State is Florida. We are the Golden State! With all the bling!

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