Day 66

I am not one to wax poetic on the virtues of Vermont, particularly in February. In fact, two weeks ago, I literally told Jon, "I will have lived here for 10 years come June, and if I'm lucky to live a long 80 or 90 years that's way too much of my life spent in Vermont." Harsh but I meant it.

I still miss New York. It's loud and in your face, like me. In the city, you're constantly meeting quirky people who, like me, don't feel 100 percent (or let's face it 17 percent) comfortable on skis or mountain bikes. And here's what I really miss: Walking to work really early in the morning (that's about 8 a.m. if you're in publishing) and passing by the deli guys who are rolling up gates, hosing off sidewalks and putting out fresh flowers while the scents of coffee and egg sandwiches waft out from inside. Lately, I've even been fantasizing about Pittsburgh. It's close to my fam. People don't all look alike. It's a city. I like cities.

But, today, well, today was a great Vermont day. I think it helps that I really like my new job. (Oh and the fact that it's been almost 40 degrees). And on my way to work, I was sort of sad that while our office move to Shelburne in two weeks will save me 5 minutes of my 40-minute commute it will also eliminate the best part of my drive (aside from the part where Jules, and now Kai, say "Hi, Mr. Buddha!" with such great enthusiasm): that turn in Charlotte.  If you drive south on 7 you know the one, the one where--BOOM!--suddenly it's all lake and mountains and gorgeousness. And if you look to the right you'll see a golden hay bale–studded field where, if it's the right season, you might see wild turkeys roaming. And then there's more lake, more trees, more mountains. I dig cities, remember? But this vista gets me every time.

And then there are the "new" friends (whom I saw tonight) who aren't new any more: I've attended their bridal and baby showers, danced with them on stages, and with them shared much wine and many vegan desserts. We've swapped clothes and baby gear, crazy stories of adventures past and our pithy (or apathetic) impressions of books. Yes, a decade spent in Vermont means 10 years of not living somewhere else. But it also means a lot of awesomeness. And for that, I am grateful.