a stranger is just a friend you haven't met yet

This week I picked up phone numbers from three girls.  That’s right-- girls.  During my bar hopping days, I used to gather tons of guys’ numbers and store save them in the contacts as “Do not answer creepy guy from charleys,”  “Nick Stadium,” or “Mark Rush Street 2,” but picking up girls is making me smile way bigger, because… FRIENDS! 

I didn't think Han Solo would love me going out making a bunch of guy friends right away in Tucson, so I decided to set my sights on some girls.   Terrifying.  I am more frightened of girls than a pimply boy at the junior high school dance.  Girl friendships tend to be much more complicated, and as a former (accidental) queen bee, I know they can be political as well.  I’m hoping I've learned my lessons and am treading lightly, trying to move slowly to form genuine and friendly bonds, and I’m not currently looking for any minions (JK-- Blair Waldorf is my idol).  But so far it seems to be working!

Bottom line is, it’s hard to make new friends in a new place—girls or not.  In college all you have to do is be nice to everyone and you instantly have friends, because everyone’s trying to fit in.  Or you join a club like the crew team and you immediately inherit 150 new best friends, and every year you automatically get 40 new freshman recruits to be your new BFFs.   But once you hit the real world, it’s awfully hard.  It took me almost a full year to get the nerves to burst out of my shy little bubble and make friends in Ann Arbor, and another three years to build on that and have an amazing friend group (all of whom I miss very very very much!!!). 

So this time, to avoid shrinking into my bubble and hiding from social interactions, I made a simple goal of socializing at least once a week.  (Hilarious, coming from someone whose planner was so full that happy hours had to be booked two weeks in advance.)  And with the help of co-workers – old AND new—I’m killing my goal every week, and I’m happier than a queen bee in honey.

L

when a midwest girl flies southwest

Han Solo and I touched down in Arizona a week ago today (no thanks to the Wizard of Oz-like weather in Chicago that delayed our flight by almost 3 hours).  And things are A-OK! 

So far, my biggest nemesis has been the weather.  Our first two days here, the national headlines were screaming “It’s hotter in Tucson than in Hell Cairo!”  So basically I've been a sweaty mess.  Normally I love the sun, but here it is like my mortal enemy.  “But it’s a dry heat!” they [cruel Arizonians, which I will become] say.  NO.  115 degrees is 115 degrees!  When I step outside I can feel all of the water instantly evaporate, the oxygen sucks out of my body, and the sweat immediately starts to pour.  So between my constant drenched, sweaty appearance and my semi-constant (heh) complaining that I’m hot, I’m surprised that Captain Solo hasn’t sent me back to sender yet. 

As for the actual cohabitation part, week one has been bliss.  So blissful, in fact, that I’m getting all mushy and lovey dovey and driving my man absolutely crazy.  The novelty of being around each other 24/7 is turning me into a love lush and all I want to do is snuggle.  Hopefully that wears off soon, or productivity will be low for the next… eternity.  The logistics of living together have been just easy peasy.  We don’t have any belongings yet, so we’re living out of 2 suitcases each with an aero bed and all of the food has to be raw or microwaveable—my specialties!   No dishes to wash, no meals to cook, no things to fight over, a handful of household rules (close the drawers, no burping loudly, Han Solo takes out the trash), and a bunch of love have made things pretty nice around here. 

That said, our moving truck full of stuff arrives next Monday, so I’m pretty sure the 14 Days Without Lindsey Crying record is gonna be reset… More updates to come!

L

PS:  Don't worry, the makeover for the page is coming soon :)