When all the leaves are brown

I had started a Thanksgiving post last Monday, but, at 9:59 PM, I wasn't loving it, and put it on hold to watch The Bachelor. At 10:59 PM, I discovered I'd much rather write about that, so pardon me for not wishing anyone a happy Thanksgiving. Sometimes I can be such a turkey. Har.

I went home to Boston for the holiday, taking a red eye Tuesday night that delivered me into the 35 degree cold Wednesday morning. With the help of a Lunesta, I'd slept soundly on the plane, so when I saw the Dunkin Donuts by baggage claim, I decided to try and stay awake for the day, to hopefully acclimate to Eastern Standard Time. I don't even like Dunkin Donuts - my Starbucks addiction ensures that virtually anything else tastes like dirty bath water - but the smell of coffee at 6:30 AM was powerful enough to get me in line. I arrived at my mom's house by 7:30 , and by 8:30, I was passed out cold on the couch. I stayed that way til about 1. So much for acclimating.

It was a very low key and relaxing and enjoyable weekend. I saw a high school friend, some old family friends, and, naturally, my own family. Of course, any relaxing I got to do was promptly erased the minute I arrived back at Logan for the start of my six hour flight back to LA, but overall, it was great to see everyone and just have five days in a row in which I did not have to think about work. For that, I am very thankful.

For the last few years, my mom has been talking about moving away from the northeast. It's just too darn cold. Her joints ache more in the winter; the expansive skylight which, in a springtime showing promised a sun-drenched living space, in the winter simply lets in a constant draft that, even when the thermostat reads 70, keeps us both huddled in layers under blankets. And at 57, my mom has spent more than enough winters shoveling driveways, scraping ice off the car, and exerting herself in ways that no single woman of that age should.

A year ago she was looking at Florida and Myrtle Beach. I had suggested Southern California of course, as it would give me great relief to have her closer to me; but, even a year ago, it made me nervous. What if I got sick of it here? What if I wanted to move back? Or somewhere else? Essentially, moving my mom here was a guarantee that I would stick around, and I wasn't ready to make that kind of commitment. A year later, though, I am ready to pack up her house and drive her out here myself.

Why the change? I guess I just realized, I really love it here. And I really don't ever see myself back in Boston. Unlike when I lived in New York, and couldn't imagine where I'd go in a post-single life (New Jersey, Long Island, no thank you), I can quite easily imagine myself in many different areas out here. And I don't just mean the west side! San Diego, Orange County, even further east, I think I'd fit in almost anywhere.

I started looking at condos a few months ago, and that has solidified the fact that, barring any major catastrophes, I am committing to stay. Having my mom out here, too, would only make me feel better about it. But then there is the cost. Her two bedroom house in Massachusetts won't get her much in LA, so she'll probably look further south, closer to San Diego, or maybe up north, in the valley or Santa Barbara. As long as she's within 2-3 hours of me, we'll both be happy. If anyone has any suggestions for neighborhoods we should consider - for an active, sun-loving, adorable little mom - please, please, please let me know. For that I will be most thankful.