My social calendar is taking this weird track right now where I'm suddenly penning down more and more LA plans at the same time that the Chicago plans are ticking off towards their final one. Life in LA is truly beginning to materialize.
We found out this week that we are going to be the new LA editors for BlackBook, which is really exciting because we were reluctant to give up our Chicago post. For the last three years we've been writing about all the new bars, restaurants and hotels that have opened and it's been a great deal of fun. Turns out our first assignment in LA is going to be covering the LA film festival and yesterday we signed up to see a bunch of documentaries, attend the gala opening of Green Lantern and go to a "Conversation with James Franco." All in our first few weeks back.
Talk about diving in, huh?
The last time I moved to LA I was twenty-four and had spent the last four years living in New York. I didn't know anything about Los Angeles but I got a job right away at a really fancy entertainment magazine and ended up being thrown right into the Hollywood scene. It was wildly fun and confusing. I feel like Greg is about to get the same kind of introduction, but with less reprimanding from his boss.
I almost think Greg should start his own blog, all about what it's like to live your whole life in the midwest and move to LA at age 32. I'd read that, wouldn't you? Eh, nevermind. It's never going to happen. I'll have to tell you all about how he's doing. Right now he's worried about what to wear to the gala. (So am I.)
We leave in less than a week and it really feels like it. I've been waking up feeling panicked, forcing myself to pack a bunch of boxes and then by midday my steam runs out and I feel overwhelmed and get nothing else done.
I'm also getting emotional. I'm going to be a wreck tomorrow when we have to say goodbye to our nanny. She's been with Vera since she was 2 months old and she's truly become a part of our family. She babysat for us last night and cried the whole time I drove her home. I keep trying to convince her to move to LA, and I think she's considering it.
In some ways it doesn't seem real. I can't imagine not living in this apartment anymore, even though it looks nothing like it once did. When I drove home last night and found myself looking for raccoons in the garbage cans as I pulled into the garage, I couldn't believe that I won't be doing that much longer. Someone else will.
But then I thought about those last days in my old apartment in Venice and how sad I was to be leaving it. In an instant though, I was able to conjure up so many things about that old apartment — the little latch at the bottom of the gate and the way it used to stick, the feel of the ocean air through the screens and the light in the kitchen, and I realized that just like everywhere else I've lived, this Chicago home will always be a part of me.