Flee to the Cleve

As it turns out, it's hard to update a blog while on a whirlwind tour of the Southeast. After a weekend of packing and goodbyes in Baltimore, John and I headed South to see our families before celebrating Sarah and David's engagement in West Palm Beach. We’ve spent a lot of time recently in cars, on planes, and in the back of a bright yellow Penske truck, but we’ve had a great time.

We got to visit both sides of the family, move my little brother into college in The Other Cleveland (Tennessee), say goodbye to John's Cobb Symphony friends in Atlanta, go vintage thrifting with Grace in Athens, have brunch with my oldest friend Brittaney, take a walk around Converse, visit favorite professors and the unbelievably grown-up Tally Vaneman, and spend a night in the never-disappointing Asheville with my sweet and fun-loving Aunt.

Being forced to find an apartment relying solely on Craigslist made me nervous, especially after three years immersed in the apartment shopping horrors of Baltimore. I’m happy to report, though, that we really like our new place. It’s big and adorable, with a little front porch that recalls the house in Oklahoma where we met. The bathroom is tiny but comical, and the lack of closet space will be creative exercise for us for sure. It’s the kitchen that we love, though. It’s big and spacious and inviting. There are windows and tall, old cabinets that will force even me to the top of a stepstool.

We live in the middle of Little Italy, which turns out to be a very welcoming neighborhood. Every restaurant offers outdoor seating to compliment the breezy summer nights; our next-door-neighbor who surely walked off the set of a sitcom already looks out for us; and there's a 100-year-old bakery with tantalizing made-from-scratch donuts. If you visit me, I'll take you. And if I really like you, I might even take you to see the giant sequined white-glove and purple guitar meant to memorialize MJ at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.