"Only in the physical removal of myself from the place I grew up in and the people I know do I feel their presence, like seeing the roundness of a lightbulb only after looking away from it."
--Christine Weeber, "An Unladylike Journey"

When I moved to Vermont, I was convinced that there was nothing I would miss about California. No place, no thing, no event, no person. I had grown used to shedding my skin and starting fresh every time I moved, and having been in school for so long I had moved every year. And I was right. For the first couple weeks after I arrived, I was so focused on settling in and establishing a routine and. And for awhile I was convinced that I wasn't good enough for Vermont, that I was living one step away from some minor misdeed that would drag me back to the West Coast, kicked out of Paradise for another round of Purgatory. When Jen arrived a month later, I was real close to feral.

Slowly at first, but then with snowballing confidence, I established a routine and slipped into a life of normalcy, peace and calm. I brought juice and cake for office birthdays, registered to vote, had dinner with my upstairs neighbor. Right around the six month mark though, I found myself with quick flashes of something that was not missing and not longing, but a wistfulness unworded in English that could be translated mostly as "the pleasant and surprising remembrance of forgotten things". (Feel free to write in if you speak a language where this state exists).

People are more complicated (well duh), and thus feelings for them are too. But for me, place has always been a character in my life, a mood metric with noticeable affect. So here then is my list of places I miss in California. If you're not on the list, good news! You're probably still a person.

• Duke of Edinburgh, midtown Sacramento: a great place to get hit by a dart and/or drink yourself onto the soft, wildly patterned carpet.
• Midnight waffles at the True Love Coffeehouse, midtown Sac: Mexican wrestling, mix-and-match mochas and neon light tubes. Only on Friday and Saturday.
• Sunday night Pub Quiz at Streets of London, with 12 other drunken soccer teams, midtown Sac: get yo' Premier League on here, and remember that if you order a Budweiser, you will be humiliated. Best stick with Black and Tans until you can barely stagger down the street to
• New Helvetia, midtown Sac: Cleverly disguised as a firehouse, Helvetia was homey and barnlike and perfectly lit, with a patio and deadly 7layer bars. Perfect for trying to sober up and drive home. Hi Dad. New Helvetia has apparently passed (moment of silence) but has escaped being turned into a Krispy Kreme. Thus I can leave midtown unrazed. You're welcome.
• Silver Dragon, Davis CA: Where $4 got you an inhumanly large platter of fluorescent red sweet and sour meat, which glowed in the dark. Good times.

My house in West Davis, which looks suspiciously like a big stand of trees. Now you see the appeal. Photo tm Her Evil Twinness. Don't make her come over there.
• There are many stories yet to be told about my house in West Davis, and all of them fall into the No More Roommates Ever vein, but from the porch at night you could see millions of stars and night-sky swirl, clear across the open fields to the other side of the Valley. Sure that house was condemned, the sheriff could get there blindfolded and the mold gave me bronchitis that lasted a year after I moved out. But you still can't beat the view.
• Sword and Rose, San Francisco: You fabulous people and your fabulous powders, your magical green space in The City. I *mwah* you.
• Yancy's, San Francisco: Unlike some of my old coworkers, I never had the pleasure of being carried out of this fine drinking establishment, but damn I came close. Hanging plants, a people-watching patio and carpet with a pattern so loud you'll never see the puke until it's much too late.

It's time to make peace with The Golden State. Much like with the Deadly Meringue, it only took 3000 miles to make it a reality. Although apparently all of my entries on the list are bars or restaurants. So that's what happened to my twenties. Eh. Good to know.

Today's Vermont Vocab: