So Moving

It appears that one of my only non-celebrity stalking successes has come to an end, which means that I'm pretty sure I'm officially single now. At least that's what my Facebook status (the most accurate social barometer, obviously) says.

As a result, here are the most important things I must now do:

• Unsubscribe from 111-steuben-st-owners@googlegroups.com
• Find someone to help my migrate this Typepad blog to WordPress (and my ancient site that's embarrassingly still on Tripod now Lycos).
• Figure out how to get the giant tub of Costco mixed nuts, bag of frozen chicken thighs and packets of dried seaweed snacks that I've grown accustomed to, without having to schlep them on public transportation.
• Also, how to maintain Post-Millennium Chain Restaurants of Middlesex, New Jersey with no access to a car. (Zip Cars are $100 a day, which is a high price to pay for inter-state novelty.)
• Get over my fear of solo dining at upscale restaurants.
• Buy a real knife and immersion blender. Get back my full blender. I don't really care about the ice cream maker–they're more hassle than they're worth.
• Sulk because Memorial Day was spent clam pie-free and I may never get to Sally's in New Haven before it shutters.

Ok, so apparently cars are very important to me as if I'm a teenager in the '50s. I'll admit I was impressed when I got driven around on our first date Labor Day 1999, in Manhattan no less. I am capable of using my legs and feet, however.

In retrospect, Hope Street was a horrible name for a one-and-a-half year stop gap (the signs and marketing material used for the weekend open houses employs the tagline "You've Found Hope") and integrating all non-cookbooks together was a pretty stupid move that will be time-consuming to sort out. When considering paint colors for the guest bathroom in the condo, I wavered between Benjamin Moore tear drop and passion blue, both so full of emotion. I don't even recall which shade I ended up using and I'm not going to ask.

I hate-read a blog by a woman my age that’s embarrassing in its teenage open wound style. Being that person is one of my greatest fears. It's all so very "old internet." And yes, I do miss it.

So, let's never speak of this matter here again.

In other news, I think I might have just impulse-bought a co-op, a process I only started four days ago. Maybe I'll just turn this into a nice, safe home renovation blog.