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Our New Home

After months and months, I am finally allowed to talk about the fact that we’re moving in October. If you know me at all, you know what a relief this is since I am the world’s worst secret keeper. (Seriously – don’t tell me secrets. I can’t handle the pressure.) John and I found an apartment in a sweet little brownstone near the Museum of Natural History, and we are so excited to be moving back uptown again. While I love our current apartment, and the four years we’ve been here have been nothing but wonderful, it’s very modern and a little bit sterile in some ways. I think John and I were both ready to get back into a brownstone – something with a little bit of charm and character. We lived in a brownstone before we moved into our current apartment, and loved it there. (Although we didn’t love the four flights of stairs we had to climb to get to it. The new place is the on the first floor. Hooray!) So when we started looking, we kind of knew exactly what we wanted, and amazingly we found it. (Though it was not an easy search. But that’s another story.)

I had a very transient life up until I moved to New York City in 2006. When someone asks where I’m from, it’s such a complicated answer. I always just say “North Carolina” since that’s where most of my family still lives and it’s easier than going into the whole story. But I’ve moved more times than I can count. Big moves – across the country and once over the ocean. On one hand, I’m so grateful for that. It instilled in me an intense love of travel and the ability to live pretty much anywhere and survive. On the other hand, I remember being so incredibly jealous of my classmates – of the homes they had lived in since birth and the friends they’d had since preschool. I always wondered what that would be like – to live one place your whole life, to never have to be the new kid. (It’s funny how many of the people I consider good friends grew up similarly – we understand each other.)

But ever since I moved to New York City, I knew this was the place I wanted to stay. This is the place I had always been looking for, and no place has ever felt like home the way this city has for me, and the Upper West Side in particular. I remember the first time I visited this neighborhood a few months after we moved to New York, and just knew we had to move up here. Six months later we did, and we haven’t left. But right now we’re on the fringe of the neighborhood, so I’ll be so happy to be back in the heart of it. I can see us living in this house for decades – something that thrills me and terrifies me simultaneously. But that’s what we wanted, to find a place that we could grow into and see ourselves living in for years to come. We wanted roots.

We are going to do a little bit of work inside, so I’m looking forward to documenting that process here, and doing a before/after. (By the way, what’s your favorite paint color? I don’t know why, but I can’t choose colors for the new house. I’m stumped.)

Last night, we had a few friends over for pizza and prosecco in the empty house. I looked around at my friends all sitting cross legged on my new livingroom floor, and the new house was pretty much instantly home, just like that. It was the first of what will hopefully be many, many happy dinner parties, and it was the perfect way to start our new life in our new home.

(Left: Our new diningroom  ||  Center: Our awesome friends  ||  Right: Prosecco corks)

 

 

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