Even further off-piste (seriously)

I should have known when, during the massive Gulf oil spill last spring, I declared to Eric, in no uncertain terms, that I would never, ever, ever, in my life, no matter how long I live, swim in the Gulf of Mexico again*.

We are now moving to Tampa, Florida. In August.

Further proof that the word "never" in fact means "guaranteed to happen." I may have to eat my words.

Eric has accepted a job at the University of Tampa as an Assistant Professor and is really, really excited. I am really excited, and I feel like I will only have one ‘really’ until we get there and it isn't horrible.

I think this move is going to be great for our family and for me personally. It will mean I will actually have feeling in my extremities all year round (San Francisco’s constant chill keeps my hands and feet at a temperature that I think technically counts as cryogenically frozen) and we will be able to sit outside in the evening and drink a beer without wearing parkas, which is an important criteria in my definition of “the good life.”*

And if nothing else, it will force me to give up my big city San Francisco snobbery and my belief that living in a not-so-urban setting is the equivalent of soul death. That sounds like character building to me!

And so, I careen further off-piste toward, um, Florida. To say that this was not remotely on my radar would be a severe understatement and yet I am upbeat about this big change to come and am excited to embrace this wild, sweaty, alligatory new life that awaits.


*I am reasonably sure I have swum in it at least once but don't ask me exactly when that was.
**I have a feeling I might have to add an insect caveat to this at some point.