Sunday, May 25

Edgy

In Miami, I don't sleep. I don't know why, but I just end up staying up later and getting up earlier. And even though I am still getting up on average three times a night because Brown Brown is perched on my bladder, I don't feel exhausted. I did take a short nap today, but I'm more awake here. In Boston, I'd be a zombie. This always happens in Miami. It also happens in New Orleans too. I don't think it's just a vacation thing, because when I went back to Seattle I was beat (although there is the time difference and I was just finishing up my first trimester; this actually is the first trip I've taken since I was living in Seattle and Adam was in L.A. where I didn't have to change time zones--it makes for a much smoother trip).

We haven't done much while we've been here--seen family, caught up with high school friends, gone through family photos. Yet, Miami is a more exciting city than other cities (although my father would disagree--he hates it here and has been trying to get my mother to move north for as long as I can remember, which is pretty much when we moved back here in 1983). There are cities that have an edge to them and cities that don't. I like towns with an edge to them. New Orleans has edge. Seattle doesn't (although I still very much like Seattle; just in a different way. In an "I just want to be friends" way). New York has edge. Boston doesn't. Miami has edge. Edge is that undefinable quality, that feeling that anything could happen. I'm not saying it has to be something good. Whenever you hear of some nutjob or some wacked out thing happening, the odds are good it's happening in Florida. Carl Hiaasen may take things to an extreme, but really he's not so far off base. Not just Florida, but Dade County specifically (and what is up with Dade County changing its name to Miami-Dade County? I call bull on that). Of course, what can you expect from a state that elected Jeb its governor, a man who appointed "an Orlando judge to appoint a guardian for the fetus of a severely disabled 22-year-old woman who also became pregnant following a rape." Don't get me started.

Hmm, reading this over, it seems as if I'm writing against Miami. Not at all. Cities with edge are simply more exciting. I also thrive in heat. Tropical heat makes me want to write. Of course, it also makes me want to drink, which Brown Brown has effectively put a stop to, but I've always envisioned myself with a small house that opens up onto a beach and sitting in the airy living room cum office with the French patio doors wide open, a breeze flowing through, a glass of cold white wine next to my computer as I work on my novels. I'm not sure that house even exists (maybe in Key West or on one of the other Keys?). But it occurs to me that I'd need to revise that picture to be within commuting distance of a private equity firm where Adam could work and the house couldn't be that small because if I'm writing at the computer with drink in hand then there's going to have to be a nanny around to watch Brown Brown and she's going to need her own room and.... Well, let's just say that I need to update my plan.

Some of the edginess in Miami is simply my family. You never know who's going to be exploding at whom. (And by family I mean family as a whole. In my immediate family, this doesn't happen. In my immediate family, you know exactly who is going to be exploding at whom.) Today my grandmother uttered some of her classic lines, including one to me at a brunch buffet after I said, "Hmmm, I can't decide if I want to go get a second dessert," she responded with, "Well, you're already fat." Um, I think everyone else simply refers to that as "pregnant." I got the second dessert (and it was a wise decision on my part--chocolate cake. Mmmmm).

I love the flat terrain (I hate walking to Arlington Heights Center because of the massive hill I need to climb back up to go home). I love the heat. I love being near water (someday maybe in Massachusetts we'll move closer to the shore). But I hate the way this city takes humidity to an extreme. I hate the horrible drivers (dare I say, worse than Boston drivers?). I hate the skinny young tourists who have taken over the city. So, no fears about our moving south any time soon. Although if the next winter is as bad as the last ones, don't quote me on that.

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