I stayed up all night to finish the packing and when the movers came this morning at 8:30, I was ready to roll. I glanced around the apartment and had a flickering thoughts of all the good times I had here in the Boot, which then turned into “am I doing the right thing?” which was subsequently followed by “I’m doing (and did) this all by myself” which was then all subdued by my venti Starbucks coffee, which fueled me til the late morning when I was almost falling asleep.

But yes, I am doing the right thing for me and it’s not like I’m never coming back to visit, but to my surprise, there was a pang of bittersweet. I didn’t expect that.

I also didn’t expect to tear up a little at this sight:

That is everything I own. Everything. Except a few outfits and my toothbrush. I just watched as my entire life was packed on a truck. Then I went inside and was surrounded by emptiness. Emptiness that needed to be cleaned, which is worse.

So I strapped on my headphones and iPod and got busy with the vacuum.

Then I took a break to write down my feelings of today for two reasons: one, so I wouldn’t forget them (obvi) but also because I was not expecting such bittersweet feelings. I really am shocked.

That’s not to say I’m not excited about going home. I really am. I don’t even mind living at the parentals for a while. I know I’m making the right call by heading west, but I had been so excited about going home that the finality of leaving kinda caught me off guard.

I’m not sure what to make of it, but for now, I will just throw it out there while it’s all fresh in my mind, and continue cleaning my apartment before I go wheels up at 3:25pm Central time tomorrow.

I’m officially over it (packing) but only 97% done. I think I might be developing an allergy to cardboard, specifically in box-form. And packing tape too. I haven’t worn makeup in approximately four days and thankfully my hair is long enough for a ponytail to get it out of my face, except for the day when I was ready to shave my head and start over because it was bugging me so much. I opted for a hat instead, to save myself from earning Britney as a new nickname.

Everything checks out though, as the boxes piled up in my dining-area-turned-staging-area. At final count, there were three boxes from the kitchen and a couple boxes of clothes, all medium-sized boxes, among some other random boxes. And of course, a record-setting eight boxes of scrapbook supplies (three little boxes, two medium boxes, two large boxes and one Cricut box). Oh, and two large boxes of albums, so call it an even 10.

Before I packed the albums, I scanned a couple more, you know, in case my moving truck burst into flames, I have some record of my existence. I also wrote “if you smell smoke, take me first” on the album boxes, just in case the driver needed my help finding them. I’m fixing to bribe him when he comes tomorrow to assure these particular boxes’ safe arrival in Napa.

These new pages include my UCSD Baseball albums and my life as a collegian and the second semester (aka the best semester) of my senior year, and the holidays that fell within those time frames. Those can all be seen here, in their respective categories.

In other news, because I’m not ready to finishing my packing yet I will share this layout, because I’m seriously ready to watch some baseball. I have decided I’m going to retire in Arizona so I can go to Spring Training every year and just sit and watch lots of baseball games all.day.long. I’m pretty sure it will be fabulous. Whilst packing, I turned the spring training games on TV (hooray MLB Network, boo having to return my cable boxes) and I’m so excited for the season. For no particular reason other than I ♥ baseball.

I suppose I should finish this packing up. I’m at that point where, when I have to unpack (eventually), I’m going to open two or three boxes full of a random collection of items and recall this moment, where I just didn’t care anymore and just needed to throw it in a box to get it to CA and didn’t care that the the lamp shades were packed with my dresses.

• pancakes with whipped cream instead of syrup
• a solid night out
• being able to sleep in after said solid night out
• offers of moving boxes

Yes, my time as a Southerner is ending. A job opportunity came up somewhat quickly and it’s been a whirlwind ever since.

The truth of it all is that I moved out here for one job and, at the end of the day, that job was really the only reason I could justify being so far from my family. Since that job is no more, it doesn’t make sense to miss Christmas and be so far away.

I will say that the people that I have met out here (who are always welcome in Wine Country!) really did make it an awesome experience and they were definitely in the “pro-staying” column but the “pro-California” column was rather long too.

It may or may not have included Taqueria Rosita among the reasons.

I will be moving back to the west coast on March 10 and in the meantime, I have been attempting to pack and sell off items that will not be making the trek back to CA. Packing is by far the least fun part of this whole deal but after March 10 I won’t have to deal with it for a while so hooray for that!

The new position will also be in the wine business, though this time I will be combining lots of various skills into one position that basically translates to running the hospitality department of the winery. I will be handling event and event sales, along with wine club/direct marketing responsibilities and of course, web/social media work.

I’m very excited about the opportunity and also very glad to be back in the pacific time zone.

So. That’s my big news. If it seems like I’m flying under the radar in the next week or so, it’s probably because I fell into a box while packing.

To my New Orleans friends, we will most definitely be planning some sort of evening out prior to my departure and to my CA friends and family, get the butter and garlic tri-tip ready, I’ll be home shortly!

• Listening to the Napa High Girls Hoops first-round playoff victory online
• Hanging in the kitchen, cooking dinner with friends
• Eating the aforementioned dinner that also included Olympic hockey (and Julie “The Cat” Gaffney references), college hoops and general hilarity
• IMDB.com

*I realize that some of you have already heard this one, but it’s pretty hilarious (IMHO) and deserves to be told again. Especially because KA is considering a side ponytail.*

My grandma happens to be the youngest of five daughters. She actually was a twin, but my great-aunt Jean beat her into the world by what I assume would have been minutes. The oldest sister of the quintet was my great Aunt June. I didn’t really know Aunt June all that well, mostly because she lived in Nebraska and also because she scared the holy bejesus out of me. I remember her as very stern, in a loving sort of way, but when you’re six, it’s the stern-ness you remember. She was also extremely religious. However, I do have one memory of her that stands out and it happens to involve a Star Stage Microphone so it’s definitely worth telling.

I don’t know if anyone remembers what exactly a Star Stage Microphone was, but it was the vehicle which pretty much allowed me to be Debbie Gibson at the tender age of six. It was a microphone on a stand that swiveled around and had a pedal on either side so I could make my voice echo (left pedal) or carry the note that I was belting out (right pedal), should I deem it necessary during my performance.

At one particular family reunion (the only one we’ve ever had of substantial size and caliber–we rented out a whole resort!), I was about six, and I insisted on bringing my Star Stage Microphone so I could compete in the talent competition. When you have a family the size of a small infantry, you can do these kinds of things. So the night of the talent competition rolled around and I had one of the women in my family put my hair in a side ponytail that was secured with a neon scrunchie (because really, that was the only way to wear your hair) and I marched to the front of the room (there wasn’t really a stage) with my cassette tape, my boombox and my Star Stage Microphone in hand, very self-impressed with my “professional setup”.

Wanting to surprise everyone, I hadn’t told my mom what it was that I wanted to sing for the talent show.

I can assure you that she, and everyone else, including my dear, so-very-religious Aunt June, were aghast that my song of choice was late 80s Madonna, “Like a Virgin”.

Oh yes. Yes I did. I belted out every word to that tune, not having the slightest clue what the lyrics meant or the fact that a 6-year-old singing something about being touched for the very first time might be inappropriate. Just maybe.

I think I probably gave Auntie June a heart attack. My mother probably wasn’t far behind her. But man did I rock that night.

So KA, you rock that side ponytail, but I will support you in fighting the urge to sing that particular Madonna song in public while doing so.

Also, if you’re listening Pixar, I’m available for voiceover work and I probably work way cheaper than Hilary Duff or Mylie Cyrus. Just throw me a couple videos from the Disney vault and I’m good to go.

• The jumbo box of Kleenex
• Grape juice
• My bed

He took a red-eye flight Wednesday night/Thursday morning, so I picked him up before work, gave him the grand tour of my place, handed him a pile of blankets and a pillow and told him there was lunch meat in the fridge and that I would be back later.

After work, we went to a local bar and snacked on some food while the Budweiser Girls asked if we wanted airbrush tattoos of a fleur-de-lis with the BudLite logo underneath. We passed, but Joe did manage to get some Mardi Gras beads with the BudLite logo on them for Bubba. We met up with B² since I have not seen her in ages. We kept it low-key since I had to work the next day.

Joe got rested up on Friday before we headed downtown to meet up with John-John and his Marine buddies. We met them on Bourbon and headed to one of my accounts for a quick pizza before going to the balcony party on Bourbon.

The streets were crowded, but manageable as we made our way to the Royal Sonesta Hotel. After a quick stop at a daiquiri shop, where I turned down an offer from a daiquiri girl to take a shot from a test tube, we made it to the hotel. We flashed VIP passes to get in the door, because you know, that’s how we roll, and up to the balcony we went, where we all got to throw beads to the party-goers below and met up with a couple of my friends from work. We also took the time to snap a couple of pictures for the scrapbook, of course.

That is the daiquiri girl who was selling shots but clearly Joe was already good in the drink department

JJ and John-John in their bead glory

Me and Kristen on the balcony

Joe and me on the balcony

John-John and Joe tossing beads

Somehow during the course of the night, Joe and I got separated, as he and the guys went off exploring. I met back up with him later and we headed home. We did, however, get to see just how the city deals with the ahem remnants of Mardi Gras. They literally bring in bulldozers to scoop up the garbage. No joke. We were driving down Canal at the intersection of Bourbon and it may or may not have been in the wee hours of the morning and we saw multiple bulldozers scooping up trash and dumping it into the garbage truck. Then we also got the pleasure of seeing them powerwash the streets with a horrific perfume-scented spray that proceeded to make me sneeze incessantly.

I was never so excited to go home. Plus, we needed to rest up for Saturday, which started off with a trip to a po’ boy shop for Linner (around 4pm). After Linner, we went back to my place to get cleaned up for Saturday festivities.

I would like to take a moment to describe the weather conditions as of late. In a word, freezing. Yet somehow, I thought it was necessary to wear cute going-out clothes and heels on Friday. That, I learned, was an epic fail. I quickly rectified that on Saturday when I wore my (f)UGGS and a long-sleeved t-shirt layered on top of another long-sleeved t-shirt and a coat over that. And one glove, thanks to Brooke, for my drinking hand. Hey, adult beverages over ice are cold! That was a much smarter route.

Saturday was also Endymion. That is the parade that was going on and we happened to arrive right as it was ending. That translates to hoards of people. We were all crowding onto Bourbon and it was the most atrocious experience of my life. Joe and I were ready to tun around and go home. My dad would have moo-ed like he was in a herd of cattle multiple times. It was THAT bad. We finally met up with John-John and the first words out of his mouth were in frustration. I believe it went something like “I have wanted to punch about 10 people in the last 10 minutes.”

We agreed. I personally had wanted to punch about 20 people, including the pint-size hooligan who thought howling at me would endear me to him. Really, he was the inspiration for the Pants on the Ground song, so odds weren’t in his favor.

As we headed back to the balcony party, I saw someone I worked with and we all rolled in together. I had never been so grateful to be above the madness. John-John ended up retiring for the evening early, but Joe and I lived it up on the balcony with all my work friends. Saturday was definitely a solid night.

In fact, (L-Boogie this is for you) Saturday was a top night….*top* night! (Side note, if you haven’t seen The Wedding Date, you totally should.)

John-John and Joe on Night 2

Joe and me on Night 2

I think this girl's name was Zeta or something. During Mardi Gras a friend of a friend of a friend becomes your friend.

Some of my work crew

Beads beads and more beads

Joe and one of my work friends tossing beads

More of my work crew

Proof of our time on Bourbon Street

That is a huge pile of beads just on the street waiting for the bulldozer

Saturday was capped off with Joe winning big at the casino, which prompted him to ask if his feet were evening touching the ground he was so pleased. I can’t blame the kid. It was a solid night all around.

Sunday was spent primarily on the couch, since we were exhausted from the night(s) before. We ordered a pizza, watched tv then had a late dinner at Acme Oyster House where we dined on chargrilled oysters, seafood gumbo and friend shrimp. After returning home we rented a movie and watched it before getting up before dawn to get Joe to the airport.

For our first Mardi Gras, I have to say it was a pretty decent one. Though we’re both unsure as to how people do this for a week straight. Not to mention the extra few days thrown in for the Saints Superbowl victory and parade. They clearly have livers of steel.

Cheers to Mardi Gras 2010!

• VIP balcony passes to the parties on Bourbon
• Getting to attend the above party with my brother
• Mardi Gras!!!!