After finishing up the packing (whew!) and officially saying goodbye to my downtown St. Paul abode, my friend Krista and I (along with Blackjack, Will and I’s trusty black Toyota Highlander and Gretta, Krista’s bossy but oh-so-helpful GPS) made the sizable trek to the place where everything’s supposedly bigger and there’s mouthwatering salsa and guacamole around every corner.
And thanks to our 16-hour journey down I-35, I crossed off two more destinations from my list of “States I’ve Never Been To” (Kansas and Oklahoma, for the record) and enjoyed a steady diet of classic rock (given how many times I heard Boston’s “More Than a Feeling,” you’d think it was a current pop song) and really bad country music where the lovelorn mourn the loss of their dog, their wives, their sanity etc. etc.
When I wasn’t tracking down the next totally bad song for Krista and I to listen to on our severely limited selection of stations, the people-watching and regular truck stop visits kept us plenty entertained for the duration. Truth be told, for such a long trip, the miles totally whizzed by, and before I knew it, we were finally in my new hometown.
In addition to taking a super fun road-trip with a fabulous friend, I FINALLY got to see Will after nearly a month…a reunion we celebrated with a downright fabulous meal at Mi Cocina (try the cheese enchiladas there, and they will change your life, I promise) and a late-night showing of Eclipse, the guiltiest of guilty pleasures, I know.
Since we’re still waiting for our stuff from the movers, (don’t even get me started on that), I still sort of feel like I’m on some sort of bizarro vacation when I wake up every morning. Dallas doesn’t really feel like home yet, but I hope as I start getting our house in order (by the way, I love saying “house” instead of “apartment,” I feel all grown up now), it will, y’all.
In the meantime, Will and I are thankful to have a place to stay while we wait (something I’m not very good at). When we moved to St. Paul four years ago, we slept on the floor for a good two weeks. So needless to say, a comfy bed in a lovely air-conditioned abode is definitely a blessing. Well, that and a huge supply of anti-frizz cream for my hair. Since it’s humid and about a thousand degrees, my hair definitely looks worse for the wear without a little help from my friends at Aveda.
Lemme just go on the record and say I’m thankful for them, too. And I’m sure anyone who’s forced to hang with me would agree.