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My first letter home August 2004:

Anywho, it’s been a while since my last email from L.A. which seems like a combination of yesterday and a century ago-- I think I’ll coin a new word “yestury (n;) the confusing feeling of time fleeing to slowly or to quickly at the same time”. Boy, what a remarkable 30 days here in West Virginee.

I arrived at the Pittsburgh airport where our dear friend Max whisked me away to the hollars. It was hot and humid and my skin was steaming. However, I had just spent 60 bucks to get my face steamed a month prior so as a lover of a good bargain, I quietly calculated all the money I was going to save by the weather conditions living here. Glen Ivy be damned at this point*.

The drive to my new home was breathtaking. In the past, after a stressful day at work I would tack on at least an extra 35 – 60 minutes of my commute to drive through Outpost on to Mullholland or Kanan to PCH to Topanga in search of that perfect canopy of trees that sheltered the road (Outpost still remains #1 in LA for me). My mini van and I would meander aimlessly on these roads wondering what it would be like to live near them. Well, August 3, I arrived to exactly what I had been searching for…that winding road through the canopy of trees that leads to my new home. This time, not only do I have the canopy but a kaleidoscope of wildflowers edging the sides. The brilliant blue and periwinkle, buttercup yellow and goldenrod, fiery red and orange flowers are everywhere. If this were California, wow, I would subdivide this place build a billion McMansions and call it a frickin’ pay day.

One night I sat quietly on my new porch and watched the billions and billions of stars (I sure wish I could get Carl Sagan’s voice out of my head right now) which I hadn’t had a glimpse of since the power outage after the Northridge quake. At that moment, I wondered what the heck took me so long to leave LA? Granted, perhaps it was the thought that I would be moving to West Virginia, not Connecticut or Vermont or New York or even Rhode Island for christ sake. But you know what, aside from West Virginia’s bad wrap that Abercrombie and Fitch and many others seem to perpetuate ad nauseam, this place is truly a magnificent natural wonder.

I apologize for reaching out to you collectively not individually. I miss you all err, I mean, I miss yawl. For the record it’s to my surprise that I do not miss Southern California*- -- yet.

*I reserve the right at anytime to change my opinion on this current living situation.

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