|from Bowne & Co Stationers, nyc|
i've lived on the block, up the block and actually above cocktail bars, clubs and saloons for the last 20 or so years. I'm used to the sound of people walking by screaming drunk, the sound of people slamming their car doors, repeatedly, or parking truly obnoxious trucks blocking my doorway. i've lived one floor up, 3 floors up and on the ground seperated from the people by mere feet. there was a time i thought my nyc apartment was fabulously high: i was on equal footing with a classic big apple new york double decker bus.
then i thought, looking over half a city and over a bay into the oncoming headlights heading over the oakland bridge...i thought that was high.
both of them were much, much higher above street level than we are now. and it's...weird. we live in los angeles, a place most people have an opinion about. they would either never live her or they'd love to live here. though i'd grown up in la county, i left when i was 18 and i was in the camp of 'never' land.
yet, the benefits of what comes with finally living on the ground again are creating these beyond-fantastic moments in my every - days.
the days that i wake up, walk outside with stella and sit in the sun while i have my coffee. i watch her sniff her heart out then lay down in the grass.
the double-down days: the days that RK and i have the same time off, and we all 3 do that together. it feels like a vacation feels.
that heat on your skin at 8am,
the birds chirping,
the grass between your toes,
stella so happily living it up in her very own yard, it's awesome.
i think it's my cities that have gotten softer and softer but for me, feel harder and harder to take. there's days i catch myself saying, 'ugh, there's no sun out yet, it's too gray'. i could never survive in san francisco now. before sf, i thought i'd live in the big apple forever. i didn't ever long for a yard, a place to run around, 'nice' weather. i took what nyc offered and i accepted it: lock, stock and barrel. when i return to that city, i still get weak in the knees. i think i want to be back in nyc again, i say outloud that that's how i want to live, in that grand old city!
but then i open that front door to the front yard, our yard, and i breath in the warm air and i think
'i want more of this.'
thing is, i'm not really sure what that means.
does it mean less people?
i think i'd go crazy in a small place.
unless we're the only people, and our dogs.
does it mean wider spread land?
LA is as wide-spread as it gets, but my neighbors are still so close i hear them setting the table as i write this.
i think it's the land to house spread ratio, that's more where we're headed
is it a suburb?
gads, i don't think so, ...unless we redefine suburb...
i'm pretty sure it's a home in the country. oh my gosh: it's THAT dream. more land, more dogs, more space to breath, more quiet. basically the opposite idea of what i'd ever expected to want.
sheesh, give a girl a quarter yard....