The house grew. It was not made.

Once upon a time there was a skinny arm of land wedged between a lake and a river, and upon a square of this land a man built a house. Five or so years later, after the man had died, the house passed to his oldest son's family, and so it went for some time. Children and cats in the yard, fishermen on the dock. 

(a cat long departed)

This is my family's home. Originally belonging to my grandparents, then to a set of aunt, uncle, and cousins. I spent my childhood and youth on the property, and I lived there the summer before college, after my parents sold the house I grew up in and moved north. The house had been for sale since my senior year, but with the market taking such a drastic downturn I didn't really think it could ever sell; it's a million-dollar property now, double waterfront, in an expensive area of my hometown. But it sold. Last week, in fact, to people who really only wanted the land, who plan to knock the house down and build something new. And so my grandmother packs up the remnant of strange oddities in the garage (my aunt and uncle are pack rats) and looks for a condo or a small house. It's very strange, unsettling and wrong, to think of going anywhere else on the island for a holiday dinner. It's selfish to think of myself, I suppose; it wasn't my house, didn't belong to my parents. But its sale and eventual destruction is the final tap of the hammer: now I truly can't go home. I can go to my aunts and uncles' houses, I can stay with DRSHEBLOGGO, but it's far too easy to envision a day when my town will be, finally, a tourist destination, when I will have to stay in a hotel if I want to visit old haunts. 

(Christmas 2010)

Not a nice feeling. But I am sneakily, guiltily glad that it took so long to sell. I'm glad I was able to bring my manfriend home and show off my history. I'm glad I had one last Christmas at home in 2012, with nearly all my family present. I'm glad my childhood had such firm roots, that there were treehouses and rambles and wooly damp forests for adventures. Many people don't have that and I was lucky. I am lucky. And I hope someday to be able to commit the house and its stories to print in the way that they deserve. 

Twin cities

I picked up the book Rust Belt Chic on a recent trip to the delightful Mac's Backs in Coventry, and have been enjoying it quite a bit. Not only is it a charming and smart tribute to Cleveland and other Rust Belt locales, but it's helping to elucidate what I suspect is the major reason that I have taken to Cleveland so well: namely that it's a lot like Tampa. Or rather Tampa is a lot like Cleveland, since the Cleve is a much older, larger, and more established city. On the surface they don't look much alike at all--Tampa is tropical, humid and killingly bright, famous for cigars and amusement parks, while Cleveland is possessed of Real Seasons and noted for the intensity of its loathing for LeBron James, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and an abundance of rust. But the two share some specific features that have settled them firmly in my regard. 

Industry: Tampa is the seat of heavy industry in Florida. It's home to the largest port in the state and functions as the shipping gateway to Central and South America. Evidence of this is everywhere, from the stretches of industrial ugly on Adamo Drive to the clots of semis flooding Interstates 75, I4, and 275 to the glorious view of shipyards visible from the new highrises in Channelside. Cleveland, of course, is famous or infamous for its heavy industry, chiefly steel manufacturing; seeing the ruin porn of factories and steelyards, the "unplaces" of abandoned warehouses and unfinished building projects make me feel oddly at home here. Fittingly for my Spacecoast USA pride, there's a NASA outpost in Cleveland too, the John Glenn Research Center.

Water: Both cities benefit from their locations on coasts, and the gladness in my heart when my manfriend decided that Cleveland was where his med school lived was initially due to the fact that I wouldn't be landlocked. Growing up on Florida's East Coast and then living for six years on its West Coast, with many sojourns to springs and many days spent on rivers in between, I'm not sure I would have been able to adjust to living in--say--Iowa. Lake Erie and the North Coast, as well as the Cuyahoga River (no longer flammable) and the many area creeks, are a relief to my eyes and to my sensibilities as someone requiring large quantities of water to live. A coastal elite I'll always be.

(downtown Cleveland; photo mine)

Climate/Geography: This is where you say, Diana I think you may have cracked, because yes, it snows in Ohio. In fact, it's snowing right now! (happy spring) However, the summers are just like home, and last summer the temperatures here in the Cleve rose past those in Tampa--I checked. My, it was balmy! My only other frame of reference for summers is New Hampshire, which...sometimes it snows during New Hampshire summers...so to find myself in a place with genuine summer is a blessing. Furthermore, though the geography of northeast Ohio is not at all similar to that of west Florida, the landscape of business is strangely familiar. Once outside the industrial centers of the cities, you'll find farmland and fruit groves in both Hillsborough and Cuyahoga Counties. And I like that a lot about my former and current cities: I like being able to go from the urban beauty of skyscrapers, train tracks, and warehouses to a more rural view of pastures, cows, and bounteous trees. 

Microculture: New Yorkers, Los Angelenos, and Seattlites may scoff all they want at midwestern bulwark Cleveland and southeastern ant-hill Tampa, but you'll have a good time in either city. Both contain fucking awesome breweries (Great Lakes, Market Garden, Indigo Imp, and others in the greater Cleveland area, and Cigar City and Florida Avenue in Tampa--perhaps more that I'm not aware of), a reasonable variety of food, museums and gardens, and theme parks if that's what you need. Perhaps they don't have the 24-hour-a-day beat of NYC, the historical patina of Boston, or the Hollywood glamour of LA, but--as Rust Belt Chic points out--a city should not strive to be like other cities; it should strive to be like itself. You can be a foodie in Tampa, a skate punk in Cleveland, a highbrow film nerd in either, and you can roll around in the local history of Eliot Ness (the dude who took down Al Capone) and Santo Trafficante, Jr. (of the Tampa mob family) or take in strange plants at the respective botanical gardens, both located near the cities' major universities.

(downtown Tampa; via tampashit)

Now it's possible that all cities are like this, that if I had moved to Des Moines I would feel the same way, or Portland, or Phoenix. But I'm not sure; I remain obsessed with London and Vancouver, but for very different reasons. I think there's some quality that Tampa and Cleveland have, some self-deprecation or carelessness, some stubborn local pride in our casinos and stadiums and suburban sprawl and most of all in what lies beneath that veneer: pierogi and Cubanos, old bricks pushing through concrete in Ybor City and historic settlers buried under a movie theater parking lot in Middleburg Heights.

SNOWPOCALYPSE

Hai guys. SO. As you've probably heard, there is currently snow in 49 of the 50 U.S. states.

Can you guess which state remains snow-free? THAT'S RIGHT, YOU'RE JEALOUS. It's Florida. Ah, Florida. Even Hawaii can't match your warmth. Of course, by "warmth" I mean "highs of 54 and lows of 30". So not really WARM. But warm...er. Apologies for those people who like to think of these things in terms of "has it ever been done before?", because Florida is making it hard to create a real record. We like to make things difficult (voting, for instance, and paying teachers what they are worth).

I think this is an opportune time for me to write a love letter to Florida. Even though it is mostly a horrible place I am very fond of my home state. Occasionally I feel like I'm the only person here who likes being here--many of the people I meet at my university are from out-of-state and they seem to loathe fair Florida. I can't blame them for missing or preferring their homes, though; I am a big, big, big fan of Dune, but in one respect (ok, in many, although it is far less dated than, say, Heinlein), Herbert gets it totes wrong: when he has Duncan Idaho say something along the lines of, Parting from friends is sadness. A place is just a place. Not so, Duncan! A place is way more than that. Personally I find that leaving a place that I love is often harder than leaving people. You can communicate with people and visit them, but when you don't live in a place anymore, you...don't, and there is no going back, not really.

So here's to you, Florida--land of citrus groves and cold springs and sinkholes and hurricanes, land of Jody Baxter and Clinton Tyree, land of immigrants and rich white northerners, land of Mickey Rat, land of terrible roads and speed traps. There is no place quite like you, and when I leave sometime this summer I'll miss you awfully, your humidity and your mosquitoes too and your way of doing theme parks which is still unmatched. Who else could produce the Holy Land Experience and Celebration? Jimmy and I raise a margarita to you, Florida. Stay sunny.

Another year

There's this superstition that, on New Year's Day, you should do all the things that you want to keep doing or be able to do in the upcoming year. The day is supposed to set the tone for the year. I like this superstition, almost as much as I like my mom's superstition of buying new shoes on New Year's Day to "get off on the right foot" (though thus far in 2011, I have failed to find new shoes), and looking back over today, I am pleased with the things that I did, both in their basic things-I-did-today state and their more meta this-is-what-I-will-do-this-year state.

It seems to be a nicer way of creating resolutions, without having to actually say the word "resolution" or make a list or whatnot. Your actions create the resolutions themselves. More fulfilling, infinitely simpler, less guilt. So here is what I did today:

+Cleaned: bad juju and dustballs, away! Cleaning is a New Year's trend that pretty much everyone I know engages in. I vaccuumed, cleaned the kitchen counters and sink, the bathroom mirror, sink, and toilet, and put away holiday ornamentations. Laundry of various kinds was also done. For the year: it's good to keep a clean living space; it shows respect to the house and its inhabitants, and is healthy.

+Shopped: ok, I like shopping generally, but errands needed to be done! A shopping bag full of paper towels, cotton balls, thank-you cards, and an iPod case later, we are set for a while. For the year: having the money to buy necessary AND unnecessary items is a privilege and a blessing. Let's hope my cash flow remains reasonably steady.

+Cooked: Boyfriend and I made and ate dinner together. This does not happen nearly as often as I would like, mainly because I often work nights, but I do like to cook--it's fun, usually, and cheaper and healthier than eating at a restaurant. For the year: I hope that more time can be spent cooking and eating with my beloved, and that this will help us to become closer AND healthier!

+Watched movies: this could be extrapolated to going out to movies, watching TV, and playing games, again with my dearest. We like movies and we like watching them together. Relaxation, entertainment, and togetherness in one simple, cheap package. For the year: here's to hoping for plenty of time spent with my boyfriend in the pursuit of fun.

+Wrote thank-you cards: cards were written out to the people who were so generous to me this holiday. Practicing being grateful is definitely something to be worked on every day, and I have so much to be grateful for. For the year: be thankful! Appreciative! Look around and be aware of everything that you have!

+Interviewed: my boyfriend, that is! I asked him some interview questions which might come up when he goes off to visit medical schools this month. For the year: helping and supporting my partner when I can is incredibly important, as is the furthering of both of our educations and careers.

+Flossed my teeth: hee. I am pretty bad at flossing my teeth, but I did just now and it is, as Martha would say, a good thing. I honor my body by taking care of it. For the year: as with cooking food at home, flossing and going to the gym and etc. are ways to be healthier and appreciate and honor my able body.

+Got jiggy: not that you really want to hear this, but yes, pants did come off and so forth. Sex is important for people in a romantic relationship, it's fun and good for your health (if you're doing it right)--it is great overall. For the year: undiplomatically put, spend as much time as possible horizontal.

And that was my first day of 2011. Here's to an excellent year, dear readers! Did anyone do anything wild and crazy last night? We got scolded by an apartment complex rent-a-cop for shooting off fireworks and learned to Dougie. Ah, friends.

In which our heroine falls in love

Usually my ladyboners are reserved for things like Robert Downey, Jr.'s abs and each new piece of Tron: Legacy footage that emerges. However, this one is occurring due to something a bit closer to home. You see, my dear manfriend is applying to various medical schools and presumably this time next year we will be somewhere that is not Trampa, Florida. If you've ever been to Tampa, you know why I'm so happy; though I will miss my friends and warm weather dearly, this is just really not where I want to spend my primo years.

So that's part of the titillation--leaving the Bay behind. Another part is where we might be going. His, and now my, top two schools are located in Des Moines, Iowa, and Cleveland, Ohio. Oh Diana! you say. The Midwest? The HEARTLAND? You're a coastal elite! How will you survive without mass quantities of water around you at all times? How will you survive the...snow??! As for water, yes, Des Moines has little to offer; Cleveland, however, is located on Lake Erie! Snow, well, from my mother's experience and what I've read, acclimation only takes a few months. I'll get over it.

And you know why I'll get over it? Know why I suddenly have a hard-on for the Midwest? Cleveland is consistently ranked one of the most livable cities in the country and Des Moines is getting there. Both have higher average salary rates and lower costs of living than anywhere in Florida. Cleveland's public transit system was ranked the best in the country in 2007 (and you all know how I feel about public transit). Des Moines has a great ape trust AND was ranked "Best Place for Businesses and Careers" by Forbes in 2010! Both are far bluer than even the bluest area of Florida (Miami)! Cleveland has Drew Carey!

(If you can't dazzle, wear 'em down)

Ok, that's it. You've outed me. Despite its many, many flaws, I love The Drew Carey Show. And that is why it's now my new dream to make Cleveland, Ohio, my intermediate step on the road north of the border, with Des Moines being an extremely close second. Heartland here we come!

Heaven is a sort of library

I am an assistant librarian currently. In a year (give or take a few months) I will have a Master's Degree in library and information science. Hopefully soon after that I will be working in a public library in youth services.

I love libraries. Always have. One of my earliest memories is of my hometown children's librarian singing "Wombat Stew" during a story time. I volunteered in that library throughout middle and high school and spent 80% of my waking hours throughout undergrad holed up in USF's main library. I have been in most of the locations in my county's library system--today I was in a new one, and it was awesome!--and I have some strictish ideas about how public libraries should be laid out.

1. Clearly demarcated areas. This is for the good of everyone involved. The youth deserve and need their own space; so do the children, and so do the adults. The computers ideally are NOT located in the same space as the reference materials and study tables. The circulation desk ideally greets the patrons as they come through the front door.

2. Natural light. Windows, windows, windows. High ceilings and sky lights. As little dependance on fluorescent bulbs as possible. I find this makes for a far more peaceful atmosphere (which a library needs, depending on how many children it serves).

3. Art and plants. I love a library with interesting art, especially if it is local. The location I was at this morning had a cool display of quilts made by the Brandon Piecemakers (teehee); another library in the system has a mural in the lobby made by local kids. And plants, like natural light, provide a calming sense as well as freshening the air inside (again, see children).

4. Every book its reader. Ranganathan was right, peeps--for every book there is someone who wants, and every reader should have access to books he wants to read. This is still one of the core principles of libraries. Broaden your horizons; listen to what your community wants.

5. Every patron her librarian. The staff of a library, of course, are extremely significant. The reference desk should be a hub, and patrons should feel comfortable asking questions. A patron who is there to find a great book for her niece should be able to speak with a staff member who can provide ideas; similarly, a patron who is there to conduct geneaology work should have access to a staff member who can navigate those twisty waters.

What does your ideal library contain?

The best place on Earth

This is British Columbia's tagline. Though I am fond of hyperbole, I don't usually take it seriously; in this case, however, I find B.C.'s selling line more than apt. Vancouver is the second most-amazing city I have ever been to (London, of course, being the first).

As western Canada's largest metropolitan area, Vancouver is as bustling of a city as you could desire, full of interesting food, easily navigable streets, laid-back citizens, and right good public transportation (in many varieties, too! Want to take an aquabus across False Creek to Yaletown? No problem!)--and also contains stunning natural spaces, in-city oases, and parks galore. Stanley Park is obviously Vancouver's green selling point and easily lives up to its hype: acres of West Coast rainforest, thousands of bird species, cool streams, and That Seawall make spending a day there magical. But don't stop there, if you're into the great outdoors; Queen Elizabeth Park and its flower conservatory and amazing views, Vandusen Botanical Gardens and its Elizabethan maze and beautiful landscapes, UBC's Nitobe Memorial Garden and Chinatown's classical Chinese scholar's garden, the forested sprawl of the North Shore, the isolated calm of Pacific Spirit Regional Park and the University of British Columbia, Beach Avenue's stretch of jogging and bicycle paths along the water, the numerous small parks dotting every neighborhood...forgive if I run on, but Vancouver is the dream city for nature-lovers.

And that's not all! Oh, no; no no. Culture-freaks will find their happy here too. UBC houses the country's best collection of northwest coastal native artifacts, including dozens of Haida and Kwakiutl totems, masks, implements, art, and clothing, as well as other treasures from a variety of cultures (including some stunning samurai armor, Cantonese opera costumes, Yoruba figurines, and a beautiful collection of Buddhas). The Vancouver Art Gallery and Emily Carr University between them host (I think) Canada's largest collection of Emily Carr paintings. Chinatown's gorgeous Sun Yat-Sen Classical Garden and nearby Cultural Center provide history and information about the Chinese presence in British Columbia. Stanley Park contains a grand aquarium stuffed with amazing specimens and fascinating tidbits about British Columbia's ecosystems.

What about foodies, you say? Vancouver says, Come hungry. Between salmon fresh from the northern rivers, locally-grown fruits and vegetables, and a vast array of ethnic cuisines, Vancouverites eat high on the hog. If in Granville Island (and have a few dollars to play with), try out the Sandbar for a wonderful view of False Creek coupled with fabulous West Coast eats. Cruise the West End near the harbor for an excellent variety of Japanese and Korean food, and don't miss a Gastown pub for local brews (Okanagan Springs Brewmaster is a great dark beer) and yummy comfort food--Irish Heather is a good stop. For the best view in the city combined with great dishes, head to Queen Elizabeth Park's Seasons in the Park restaurant and try the stuffed mushrooms.

If your belt's a bit tight after all that munching, no worries--Vancouver is one of the most pedestrian-friendly big cities I've been to. Hordes of walkers crowd every streetcorner and cars actually stop for them...amazing! Thanks to the city's grid system, Vancouver's downtown is extremely walkable and just about everything needed to sustain life is within strolling distance. If bicycling is more your ouvre, rental stores abound (such as Spokes on Denman near Stanley Park), and the uphill climbs throughout the city will make you feel less guilty about having another beer later on.

Oh friends, just go to there, as Liz Lemon says. It's amazing. It has something for everyone. The citizens are friendly, the city is beautiful and well-made and forward-thinking. You will never be bored. I can't wait to go back--permanently, someday.