If I ever win a Tony, I sure do hope it’s a year when NPH is hosting. I’ve already planned my acceptance. First, I’ll lick my award – Paula Deen style, y’all. Then, I’ll forgo a formal acceptance speech and dedicate my window of time to presenting a clear, concise (possibly bulleted and with full illustrations) dissertation on why Neil and should be besties.
I should probably get started on writing that epic ukulele musical sooner rather than later, eh?
So I’m no longer in Virginia, yet I can’t really say I’m home. Mostly because I’m not entirely sure how to define home at this exact moment.
Is it where you keep all your shit? If so, my home is on a pallet in a warehouse somewhere in the wilds of Jersey. Here’s my home leaving on a truck. Weird.
It was harder to move out than I thought it would be. I mean, we’ve been at this for three years. Shouldn’t I have worked out all the sad emotional stuff the first two times we “bought” a new house and prepared to move out of Hoboken? I sure thought so. But when I looked out my office window at my tree, the CVS, and the giant orange PARK sign that tirelessly st00d between me and the sky for what (hopefully) was the last time, I felt a twinge in my gut.
And this time it wasn’t the parasite.
Is home where you sleep at night? Then for the next two days my home is Union City. Then, for the next week, it’ll be various places in Ohio. Then back to Union City. Then Manhattan for a night or two. Then maybe Virginia. Then…oh you get the point already.
“Home is where the heart is.” Allegedly. So Tony Bennett’s home is San Francisco? And which part of my heart am I supposed to be paying attention to? The chunk that swims in sausage gravy and honey suckle back in North Carolina? The wad that follows Rocco wherever he goes (even fucking Ohio)? The glob that desperately wants to rub my face on Mildred’s belly and scratch Lucy’s ears? The parts that belong to my brothers? My parents? My friends? To Justin Timberlake and Neil Patrick Harris?
Maybe home is where the free wifi is. So I’ll be at Panera, most likely.
Cross your fingers we actually manage to successfully close and sell our apartment today. Otherwise you’ll have to listen to me bitch about moving back into my apartment. Again.
Your home is right here on the interwebz silly. Like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, you’ve never left.
I need ruby flip-flops.
NPH can be the scarecrow.
Can Andrea and I be Munchkins?! We’re already height appropriate and we’ll gladly take care of all the green alpacas in Oz!
when the parasite has been expelled, you’ll realize that home is wherever the 3 of you are. Home is where and what you make of it. All that other stuff – NC *god forbid*, views of CVS and parking garages – those are ultimately memories, at most, of where your home temporarily was. You may have an affinity for one part of the world over the others and be tempted to call it home, when it comes down to it home is where you decide it is. I’ve moved @19 times (I’ve lost true count), I’ve lived in 3 different countries, and 5 different states (all but 1 many times). I’ve lived in this town 21 years (the last of the @19 moves). I have no plans to leave, but I will if I need to – i.e. the economy demands it by taking my job from me – or if I’m offered a substantially better job somewhere else.
Like they say – home is where the heart is. Where your family is. (isn’t that the same thing?) Enjoy your reminisces, but put them away as fond memories and get ready to make more at your new home.
Sending good closing wishes your way. Three’s a charm!
It worked. You single-handedly made the deal go through. Thanks, pookie.
Home schmome! I was an AF brat and moved constantly. I’ve lived in this place for 9 years now. The longest I’ve ever lived anywhere, but I don’t know that I’d call it home. If I got the chance to move, I’d jump at it. (As long as I could live in the country wherever it is. No city life for moi!)
Home is wherever you happen to lay your head that night. Because home is in your heart and your heart is always with you. Unless you’ve been killed by sadistic satanists and they’ve cut it out of you, but that rarely happens.
Good luck with the move Elly! It’s the parasite hormones making you all sentimental and shit.
Well, the good news is at least the sadistic satanists will have a hard time finding me to carve out my heart now that I don’t have a permanent mailing address.
Oh Elly… Now where’m I gonna stay if I visit Hoboken? I bet you didn’t work this out in your contract to sell the new place, did you? I’m saddened. See how saddened I am. I saddened to death over here.
Really, though, you’re going to make home where you like and take home where you go. You’re a transmitter and a receiver and everyone around you will pick up your spirit and welcome you. If they don’t I’ll come at them like a spider monkey.
I was temporarily homeless between moves last time. I believe it lasted one month. I got an offer from my building to be out in 24 hours so they could relocate a long-time resident who had pipes burst, so they’d cut me a massive deal on breaking my contract. I kissed the place goodbye, and was packing boxes within the quarter-hour. I lived with my girlfriend, put my stuff in a storage place, forwarded my mail to a PO Box and lifted off.
While it was alien, there was something neat about being a little bit off the map.
Like John Connor you lived off the grid so that when the machines rose up and took control YOU could not be so easily found!
Here is where the camera pans out and the moving van shuts it doors only to reveal to the viewer that SKYNET is the name of the company you’ve chosen to haul your stuff.
I AM John Connor. Please don’t tell the big robot dudes. They’re gonna be pissed, except some will want to save me. It’s gonna be super weird.
As long as we all understand that I will be the one having the wild but frantic sex with the time traveling human soldier sent from the future to save YOU and ME. So I guess you are my son in this case scenario.
There’s nothing weird about that, mom.
No, it’s way weird. What was I thinking?!? Ah, there’s the “cancel” button…
TOO LATE! The time travel loop is confusing me and sucking me down the vortex because technically I become impregnated with you after a long drawn out relentless chase and a brief stint in a run down motel.
No need to be embarassed as you don’t really exsist yet. I think.
Well shit. My arm disappeared like Marty’s siblings in that movie where Marty’s siblings disappear because his mother and father don’t hit it off at the Enchantment Under the Sea Dance.
This is the first time ever I’ve felt uncomfortable making a crack about Duf’s boobs. Because…well obviously.
Don’t you talk about my mom that way!
God it only gets weirder. I should probably delete that picture of her cleavage now…
John Connor was a rabbid spider monkey?
i could never remember the parts of the heart what with all those anatomical terms like aorta and ventricle. but chunk, wad, glob and parts totally works. i feel all learned and shit.
good luck today! i do hope you know that home is at the westin on friday july 8.
I’m already there. AND? I’m wearing a monkey suit.
You look all learned. And foxy. As per usual.
Long time lurker, first time poster. Hello. 🙂
I know how you feel. I couldn’t wait to move out of my old apartment and start a new life, but as I packed up 8 years into neat boxes and found stuff I’d been sort of looking for most of those 8 years and they prompted good times to come flooding back, everything got all melancholic and beer didn’t even help.
The worst part was actually handing over the keys, especially because about 5 minutes after I did so, I remembered I’d forgotten some stuff and actually had to ring my own doorbell..!
Lucky for me, the girl who bought it is an absolute sweetheart and so excited about getting a first place of her own. Seeing her taking in her very own first front door and her very own first light switch and seeing every emotion – that I’d just spent my packing hours reliving in reverse – play across her face, made it easy to pass on the turning point to most of my adult life so far. I only hope she’ll have as many good times and as many lessons learned as I did in that apartment.
I hope everything works out this time for you.
Well Tink! That’s just beautiful! My buyer is a first timer – super young and cute and innocent about it all – so I bet she’s having a big ‘ol love fest up there in the apartment formerly known as mine. I think you just made my day. Thanks for de-lurking!
Yup, I’m doing the moving thing in a month too. What a lot of fun that will be *bangs head on desk*
*looks at empty spot where desk used to be*
Shit. What am I going to bang my head on?
Home is where the love it.
…So my home tends to be bakeries and Chippendale performances.
……But seriously. Home is where the love it.
I think I stepped in a puddle of love at the last rock show I went to…
Also, I’d like to say that you read my mind because I was going to remind you to take a photo as soon as the Hoboken house was emptied.
I feel a little verklempt now.
It’s all that fur from your bikini.
Is that a bikini? I thought it was a Merkin.
Oh I feel sad too. Remember the time that I found Rod all tied up under your sink?? Or was that just here, on the filth ridden Internet where it’s okay to take overaged rock stars hostage… I get lost between the worlds. Good luck moving– it’s going to feel all kinds of awesome to unpack. Elsewhere.
Frank Sinatra said he never really left Hoboken. Although his place in California didnt look anything like Jersey to me.
btw…do i call you Preacher, Pastor, Mother?
Definitely, home is where the warm hearts are.
Ellykins, wherever you end up, make sure you send a change of address so the cupcake pooping unicorn can find you. I hear the liquified cupcakes are the stuff epidurals are made of.
Transition phases are like long lines at the bank. They so suck the life out of life. I hope you get settled soon.
That pic of your bare living room really bummed me out. Sigh. I feel like the Baltimoreans must have when they woke up and discovered the Colts had been packed in a truck and slipped out in the dark of night to Indianapolis. How did you sneak off without me noticing? Dammit, I should gave been camping out at Malibu!
Welcome to the Commonwealth. FYI, I need a “celebrator” for an upcoming wedding… (We’re in Richmond) If you feel like getting licensed in VA ($30) there are cherries to be popped. 🙂
In addition to the $50 paid to you by VA Law, I am willing to participate in a Uke duet of your choice or dress up for an appropriately comical photo.
Even thinking about moving again, which I’ve been doing lately, sends my head to swimming.
So here’s my solution: just click your heels and repeat after me, “There’s no place like blog, there’s no place like blog…”
Home is that cozy melange of uke tunes, glitter, laughter, unicorns, profoundly wacky wisdom, and assorted body parts that is you. Hair can grow there. Babies can be nourished there. Rocco can fold it all up in his arms. Family and friends can happily follow its path from one set of walls to another.
wait, even Ohio? That guy is powerful.
To me what feels like home changes every day. I wonder whether it is like the green later ring you carry around with you.
Anyway wish I were there. You have any idea how many different things we could do with an empty floor like that?!?!
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