Getting Rid of Those Blues

So, remember that trip to New Orleans I'd passed up? I've decided to do it, mostly because of a deal my husband and I made. The deal was that if we lived in Buffalo, where I have tons of family and friends (and an awesome hair stylist and mechanic), we would travel. We made this deal because David, who spent ten years in California, simply cannot stand many of Buffalo's less lovable traits. For example, one of the first winters that he was here, he was chipping at the ice shield on his Jeep's window one fine, January morning, when something cracked. Actually, more than one thing cracked. He started laughing kind of hysterically, not sure whether it was the glass or the ice that had given.

It was after that that he started telling me legends of this far off land, where "there are no weathermen because it's always 70; nothing changes". Or "the ocean is on one side of the road, and the mountains on the other" (that would be Route 1, I believe).

Being a sturdy, sensible Buffalo girl, I pointed out to him how in that same land, the American dollar does not go nearly as far as it does in Buffalo. If we were to land a job in this far off land, our housing costs in Santa Cruz (for example) would be pretty much triple what they are in Buffalo, for about half the house. Balmy weather does not offset empty pantries and no car. Even a plane ticket there would be more than our current monthly mortgage bill.  

So, even despite his printing up page after page from Santa Cruz' own homepage, I stuck to my guns, and we struck a deal. We would stay here if we could TRAVEL. And so, in virtue of a deal that I am very glad I made (and very glad I'm honoring ), we are off to New Orleans in the dead of winter. And we'll have a house we can afford to come back to...plus icy windshields.