Well, I finally did it — I moved from Austin.
It took two years to line up the pieces to make it happen, but it’s done. I live in Seattle now, close enough to Hawai´i to make traveling less arduous but far enough to keep me away from the orbit of familial crazy.
I live in a bona fide gay neighborhood now. I can walk or take public transportation, which actually is preferable since city planning in Seattle seems to be an oxymoron. (Take one wrong turn, and you’ll find yourself on the other side of town.)
Seafood and Asian cuisine options are abundant, but of course, that means surrendering Papalote and Azul Tequila. But hey — I can find plate lunches here. They won’t give Grace’s Inn any sleepless nights, but if I crave something from the islands, I don’t have to make it myself.
Cedar season had to kick me in the nuts before I left Austin — compounded by the fact the allergies really masked a stress-induced cold — but I like the fact I’m spending my January free from the death grip of allergies.
My apartment has a balcony with the Space Needle squarely in view. I keep the vertical blinds open as much as possible because I love the view. I can see the Sound, the mountains, the downtown skyline. Back in Austin, I kept my vertical blinds closed because all I had look at was a swimming pool.