Moving Out

About two years ago, Mr. Goodlaff (that's my husband) and I decided to pick a new place to live. Our top three options were Portland, Seattle, and San Francisco, so we set about city-hunting.

Between the bridge and the hills, San Francisco will always have a big piece of my heart, but the grit and the staggering expense of living in the city by the bay ultimately took it out of the running. Portland--well, Portland was lovely, but when they say "keep Portland weird," they mean it. It wasn't the city for us.

Then there was Seattle. Seattle was it. Beautiful, eclectic, fun. The Goodlaffs fell madly in love, and Seattle became our end-goal. For two years we've talked a big game about moving there, and at the beginning of this year, we finally decided that come hell or high-water, this year it was Seattle or bust.

It's a big move, to be sure. It means giving up my job and looking for another in a seriously crappy economy. It means leaving our family and friends behind. It means moving all of our books (I can hear the swearing already...). Though scary and thrilling, for Mr. Goodlaff and I, this move is a fantastic new beginning.

I heard a great saying today (it was on TLC's What Not To Wear--don't judge!): "life begins at the end of your comfort zone." It's kind of a crazy saying, but if you think about it, it's true. The times I've felt like I was really, truly living were the times when I was trying new things, new food, new places, having new adventures. This move to Seattle is pretty damn far outside of my comfort zone. If I'm to believe this little saying--which I do--the things that scare me a little (or a lot) are the things I need to try.

So, in that spirit: here goes nothing....