Ch-ch-changes!

Gee, golly gosh, many new developments to speak of, chiefly that Sara and I are departing for Portland on the 8th of this month, and over the course of a week, are going to decide if we want to move there. Look, moving is a drag, to put it diplomatically, but average January temps there are around 40 degrees, and given the absofuckinglutely nightmarish winter we're only just beginning to shake, thoughts of warmish drizzle, lush green forests, and the Atlantic Coast just hours West is tantalizing to anyone who has endured nine, count 'em, nine snow emergencies on these windy Saint Paul streets. Adios.

I'm reluctant to leave some things behind, namely friends and family, but it's not like I'm moving to Tehran, although I hear it boasts frequently pleasant climatology, if you can get past the whole living under a repressive Islamic fundamentalist regime. There probably aren't too many U-Haul drop-points there, either, and I don't often fantasize about women in burqas.

Portland is attractive for other reasons. It's a predominantly young city, and, like Minneapolis, boasts a strong music scene that has nurtured the likes of Woody Guthrie, The Shins, Sleater Kinney, Modest Mouse, The Kingsmen (Louie Louie), Paul Revere and the Raiders, Elliott Smith, Everclear, and the Decemberists. Sub Pop, the revered independent music label also calls Portland its home. It also is ranked in the top-ten for vegetarian culture, and, thanks to a century of intelligent civic planning, offers a wealth of mass transit options to navigate its population-dense confines, deterring urban sprawl and suburban blight that plagues many Twin City regions.

I'm under no delusions that it's Utopian, for every city has its problems. Oregon is beset by unemployment rates higher than the national average, since it attracts many young, college educated professionals. There are neighborhoods to avoid, one of which is named, sans irony, Killingsworth Street, and the temperate climate enables its share of riffraff and homeless, spotty youths. It's just too cold in MN for the indigent to establish the same presence.

Yet, at thirty-two (Sara twenty-eight years old), and unemployed, living off government cheese, and with my parents still young, fit and able, there aren't that many reasons to stay here. Sara is fortunate to have an impressive resume of nanny work, and is confident that she'll find opportunities, while I'm not averse to doing what it takes to make a buck, save for stripping. A winter of eating chocolaty cereal and watching Sponge-Bob doth not a trim figure make.

Moving gives us both the chance to pare-down our belongings to the essentials. I sold the filler in my record collection, and may sell my car after we return from our exploratory foray, giving us some financial wiggle-room, and leaving us with one vehicle. One of my sister's friends lives in Salem, an hour West of Portland, and speaks highly of the area, as does my friend Cody who lived in Portland for over a year. My heart fluttered a little when I booked my airline ticket. It's real, man, and it's on. As Bob Dylan would say, 'Get Born.'