Moving to a new city causes one to ruminate, percolate, and marinate on deep issues such as what makes one place feel like home and another place make you want to hit the Eject Button.
Matt and I love to to fantasize about where we'd like to live when we grow up. We stroll through neighborhoods pointing out features that resonate, like old houses, cheap breakfast joints, and community gardens. And, inevitably, we talk about the aspects of a place that we don't want to take with us into retirement, most notably smog, excessive retail, and snow.
We travel a lot, too, which further stimulates all this percolating and marinating. Why, we ask ourselves, is Springfield, Illinois so irristibly entertaining, yet certainly a place we'd never settle?" (I suspect it's the corn and cows on both counts.) Why has Shanghai soaked into Matt's soul, but God would have to poke him in the middle of the chest before he'd move me there? (No NFL.) Why do we both like Colorado in theory, but not in practice? (It meets all of our criteria for activity, but none for diversity or spirituality.)
McKinney, Texas is all kinds of cute, Santa Monica oozes lifestyle, and Winter Park gets a double-nod for charm. People we love and trust tell us that Austin and Tucson would knock our socks off. (Of course, people we love and trust also tell us to get our butts home to Orlando. Or at least the eastern time zone.)
I don't know where all this leaves us, except for these two things: L.A. is not likely our forever home. And as long as we get to hold hands at the end of the day, any place is just fine.
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