Three-year old applesauce

I was rummaging through my pantry last night when I came across four or 5 containers of cinnamon flavored applesauce, two unused containers of squeeze cheese and a Campbell's Supper Bakes box that I swear I've had since I was 19. I couldn't help but get a little nostalgic. Again. I swear, moving has turned me into a sap.

My grandmother started sending me care packages the second I went away to college. In them there were always the same items: clothes detergent, herbal essence shampoo, deodorant, cinnamon applesauce, a can of squeeze cheese, a box of wheat thins and a ferrero rochere chocolates. Over time, my taste for processed cheese expired and I no longer ate the little containers of applesauce, but I couldn't throw them away, either. When I moved last year, I had a whole pantry of applesauce and squeeze cheese. I threw away the expired ones (for some reason, apple sauce can last for two to three years, I've discovered.) and moved the five containers of good ones.

Last night, as I once again packed my pantry, I threw it all away... All the applesauce, the Supper Bake that I meant to make but never did, the Angel Food Cake mix that I got to make a cake for my roommate's 21st birthday two years ago but forgot about it and the half-empty margarhita mix I used for a going away party last spring. I never cook, and so going through my refridgerator was a bit like going through a photo album. Even though it's a little gross, it's a snapshot of what I was doing (and what I was eating) at certain times in my life. But it's time to make a fresh start, in so many ways.

Besides, toting along flavored applesauce through two or three moves is kind of wierd. And gross. At least I know that I'll have more coming in Grandma's next care package. Even if I haven't eaten the stuff since 1999.

the moving memoirs

It's strange how empty a house can seem when you take down your picture frames and a couple of paintings. My roommate CJ moved out yesterday to go to a new job in another part of the state, and it's a little depressing really. It made me realize that I too am having to pack up my stuff and move out of a house that I love.

Ok, so maybe I don't love it as much as my old house, just five blocks up the street, but I am having remorse over the thought that I'm losing my neighborhood. I'm moving 15 minutes outside of town to a new, cookie-cutter garden home duplex which is nice, but not home. Here, the restaurant owner across the street knows me by name and brought CJ soup when she was sick. Here, I can walk my cocker spaniel down the street and run into other dog owners who have known Lilly since she was a puppy. Here, I can walk to the post office and know the postmaster, and his wife, who live a few blocks in the other direction. You just don't get that in a cookie-cutter subdivision or apartment complex.

And I guess I'm a little nostalgic for everything that has happened to me since I moved into this house only a year ago. I've grown up a lot. When I moved out of my 13th Street apartment last year, it was a door closing on my college and grad school years. I said goodbye to those memories- memories entangled with living nextdoor to my now ex-boyfriend, memories of staying up all night watching girly movies with my bestfriend Britt and drunken walks home from the strip. But I said goodbye to all that, and moving into this house was my fresh start.

I became an adult the day I moved into this house. The heating wasn't working, (there was a carbon monoxide leak), both toilets were broken and I didn't have cable for two weeks. I never did get a phone line hooked up, although it was on my to-do list. But I remember rummaging around in the cold house by myself, at first excited, then later crying over my boxes of packed belongings. I never wanted to stay in Tuscaloosa past college, and yet there I was. I had accepted a job that I was sure I was going to hate and was feeling severely left behind. Britt had left, and now Mr. 6 years- the ex, had finally moved out of town. I felt alone and unsure.

But God does have plans. I can't believe how much has happened while I've lived in this house. I first moved in thinking I could live alone, then quickly discovered that having a job isn't that much money after all. Kelly, an intern from CA moved in, then CJ, who was only supposed to stay a month but ended up staying 7. Then, there were the short-timers, my sister, who stayed a couple weeks in August and a photographer from work who stayed in my extra bedroom these past few weeks until her apartment opened up. And there were the pets.. first just Lilly, then CJ's cat Emma, then the adopted cat Oscar, then the extended-stay dog Tessa, and finally the photographer's curious cat Ruben. But now, it's back to just me and Lilly.

Other things have happened too in the past year. I discovered that reporting is a passion of mine and I don't remotely hate my job. I also finally ended things with the pilot and said goodbye to him for good, and I fell in love- twice, the second time to a guy who I want to spend my life with. So, now I'm at another cross roads.

I can't help but feel a little sad as I once again pack up my things and move them into three locations- the room rented outside of town, into a storage facility and to Mr. Goatee's apartment. Am I excited about the future? As always, absolutely. But I guess right now I feel a little immobile. I have to move, because I can't afford this place on my own and I want to move forward on something more permanent with Mr. Goatee. But, I also have to be patient, and let things happen as they come. In the meantime, however, I'll be missing my oak lined sidewalks and a neighborhood where people know my name.

my cat reincarnated

When my sister was born in 1985, I guess I was a little jealous. So my parents got me a cabbage patch doll, which I named Andrew. But that didn't work for long. And then, about 6 months later, they decided to get a kitten. Well.. dad decided to bring home a kitten that had been hanging out the construction site all week. Mom didn't really want another cat. For a while she thought my sister was allergic. But she wasn't, and the kitten stayed.

And he became mine. At 4, I didn't care about naming a male cat a feminine name. He was to be called Madison, after the main character... a mermaid... in my favorite movie at the time, "Splash". Over the years, Madison would follow me around everywhere. He slept on my bed at the bend of my legs. He would run up to the driveway when I got dropped off after school. He would purr at my legs whenever he heard the sound of a can opener. And he didn't mind being dressed up in doll clothes. When I left for college, he was 14.... and he slept in my bed, mourning my absense for a month.

The day after christmas two years ago we lost Madison. He was 18, and couldn't eat or walk. His liver was giving out on him and the vet told us it was only a matter of days. As we took him to the vet to be put down, I held him and he purred. He hadn't eaten in days and yet he still was purring because I was holding him. I loved him like no other pet, at least, until my cocker spaniel Lilly came along. Even then, she is different because she is a dog.

I always said I would never get another cat, because Madison was special. Then, yesterday, I met Ruben, a cat that I swear looks like it could be Madison reincarnated. He belongs to Michelle, a photographer I work with who is staying at my house for a while. And he loves to be held in a little ball and be lugged around. And he has that same fluffy tail. Maybe getting another cat wouldn't be such a bad idea afterall. But, then again, the man I plan on spending my future with, Mr. Goatee, is allergic. Perhaps Madison will have to be my only cat afterall.

The house bug

Maybe it's because I'll be moving out of my rental house one month from now. Maybe it's because I'm in a bit of a nesting mode. Maybe it's because I love decorating and I want a new project. Either way, I've been bitten by the house bug.

I spent most of the afternoon yesterday driving around Tuscaloosa looking at homes for sale. I am sick of throwing away money on rent. I want a more permanent home that I can work on and truly make my own. There are three major problems standing in my way, however:

1. Real estate in Tuscaloosa is grossly overpriced compared with the rest of the state. If I were to buy a home in my home town in Northern Alabama, I could afford the 4-bedroom ranch style house that I grew up in. But, with the same amount of money in Tuscaloosa, I'd be lucky to find a clapboard shack on the bad side of town. Now, if I were to eventually buy a home on two incomes, it would be a little easier to be on the better side of town, but not much. Which, leads me to point #2.

2. I guess it's because I've lived around campus for six years, but I don't want to move away. The thought of moving temporarily out to Cottondale pains me. If I bought a house it would HAVE to be within walking distance to both downtown and campus. I also love sidewalks and historic districts, and detest cookie cutter ranch style homes in commuter communities. I want history, I want craftmanship. I want a home with a story that I can add to. (Ok, this is my idealistic side shining brightly.) But, as I quickly found out after driving around, I have expensive tastes. And even the homes in cute little neighborhoods that aren't overridden by students are at least $200,000, which is out of my price range, even with two incomes.

3. My last point, is that I don't know how long I want to stay in Tuscaloosa. But, the longer i'm here, the more I'm thinking that this isn't such a bad place to get married and settle down. No, I don't want to be here forever, but I can always commute to Birmingham, and if I do decide to go to law school the state's only two law schools and within an hour radius. Plus, I won't be throwing money down the drain on rent.

What am I going to do? Wait. and live in Cottondale. In a new cookie-cutter garden home community with no sidewalks and a 15 minute drive from downtown. (INSERT GAGGING SOUND HERE.) Hopefully it will push me to the point where there's no going back and I'll take the home buying thing more seriously. Or, at least find a better home to rent downtown.