Must Supress The Cravings

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I thought it was time for my ever impressed husband to appear in another Red Thing shot. The following photo shows just how versatile the Magic Scarf can truly be. We've appealed to infants with the use of the fuzzy diaper. We've appealed to women across the globe. We've appealed to men with the tie. (And by we I mean, of course, The Red Thing and me.) Now we are showing you that even old men, who would probably not be caught dead in the boutiques that these are often found in, can effectively wear the Magic Scarf. All hail the suspenders:

So, not only are these great for your average suspender wearing man of any age (also, they match the tie and cummerbund) they are great for someone who has recently become memory challenged. If your friend, spouse, or great-grandfather has been diagnosed with Alzheimer's simply shove him into Red Thing Suspenders or, as I like to call them Magic Scarpenders. This way, when he wanders off and Search & Rescue tries to locate him, he'll be helping them out by proudly displaying his humongous, bright, fuzzy suspenders.

It should be noted that it is not the intention of this blog author to make light of Alzheimer's or any other disease which effects the memory.

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Dang it stays light here for a long time now. Being that I now live more north than I ever have before and we are pretty close to where Mountain Time ends and Pacific Time begins and we just leaped forward, it was light last night until sometime after 7:30. It's March! I don't know what the summer will bring other than a later bedtime for Garrett or some kind of black paper on his window so that he can sleep when it's still light out at 10 pm. (Exaggerating, I hope!)

My brother called last night and left me a nasty message about how he was eating white sauce from Miguel's. I didn't think it was a very nice thing to do to his best and only sister. Three and a half months must be the point in a move where you start longing for specific restaurants not found in your new neck of the woods because additionally, I'm craving a tostada from La Cocina and a piece of boysenberry apple pie from The Julian Pie Company. I'm sure I'll live through the cravings. Other than the yummy Cafe Rio, living out here is like Mexican food detox. I'm just a bit afraid of trying Comida de Mexico so very far from the border. I'm spooked that it will be Tex-Mex masquerading as authentic Mexican food. Or, more accurately, Tex-Mex masquerading as the exquisite California-food-with-its-heritage-rooted-in-Mexico that I know and love.

journey

My brother's Heather gave this frame to Troy and me for Christmas. (And hey, note to Jon and Heather, it would be totally awesome if you'd get engaged so I could say, "My brother's fiancee" or, even better, married, so that I could say, "My sister-in-law." But, whatever. I'll just keep referring to She-Who-Will-In-All-Probability-One-Day-Be-My-Sister-in-Law as My Brother's Heather.) Anyway, back to the frame. I love it. I got this particular image off of the Internet. Was anyone else wondering if Troy already got a second wife? Well he didn't. Not yet. Not ever, are you kidding me? I am more than enough wife for Troy to handle. So, no, we don't know that girl. But I want her jeans.

My in-laws had this verse hanging on their bathroom wall. During the time that I so desperately wanted a baby, each of Troy's three sisters birthed cuddly, cooing, offspring. Sometimes I think the only thing that got me through family gatherings was the fact that if I excused myself to the restroom, this verse would greet me.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

I clung to that verse during those long months of waiting. And I cling to it now. I find it so incredibly appropriate that it was the verse chosen to accompany the word journey. Right there, smack in the middle of the Word is the promise not only that He knows the plans but that they are plans of prosperity, plans of hope, plans of future. It doesn't say, "You know the plans and they really stink," and I find comfort in that.

When Troy opened it I informed my brother's Heather that I was going to put a picture of a U-Haul in it. I didn't. I used this one instead.

We took this picture at my parents house on Thanksgiving Day. We moved five days later. I love this picture because we are sitting on the brink of our journey. We're staring out into the darkness and, far off, we see just a glimmer of light, a lamp to our feet. In the picture there is one person who is excited about the journey, one who is not, and one who has no idea that anything is about to happen. I like that the one who is less than thrilled is the one who is smiling the biggest. Maybe she's learned enough in this life to understand that God knows the plans He has for her. Maybe she's learned that in those plans she has hope. Maybe she's learned that it's really all about the journey.

So thanks, Heather. It was the perfect gift.

The House

I have a gas fireplace here in this mansion. It might be a problem. I might have an enormous heating bill since I run it for many hours a day. I might miss being warm in Ramona. I might use the word might way too much. I might not care.

Let me tell you about how I live in a five level house. That's one, two, three, four, FIVE. You walk in on the third level. If you go upstairs you will find Garrett's room, playroom, a bathroom and the guest room on the fourth level. If you go up four more stairs you will find the master bedroom, very large master bath, and master closet that is a dream come true. If you walk in the front door and do not choose to go up the stairs you will find the living room and kitchen. If you go down the four more stairs you would be on the second level, which is the family room and another bathroom. If you go down a flight of stairs you would be in the basement, where the office is. Plus another bathroom. Plus some storage rooms. It's insane. We could have, I don't know, eleven kids and live comfortably. Hey...wait a minute...now I get it.

By the way, if you want to hide in my house and murder me and my family, I just gave you a pretty good description of where to conceal yourself. I wouldn't try it though. We just installed a million dollar security system. In addition, if you bump into any of our strategically placed trip wires, you will be slaughtered by daggers and/or poisoned arrows. Also, we have hired a dozen ninjas to sleep in our closets. So, don't plan to murder me. I'm just saying, is all.

Thoughts

Two days ago I met my bishop. Well, er, that is, I met who would be my bishop if I happened to be LDS. He and his wife, who live a few streets over, came to our door to welcome us. They were sorry they hadn't been over sooner, to help us unload. They were oozing hospitality. I think we Christians could learn a thing or two from the Mormons. (Not including their actual religious beliefs, mind you).

I've been here for three days and I have to say that Utah is (so far) not too bad. Love you, California, you'll always be the one. Oh it's freezing. Literally. It snowed the first morning we were here and is supposed to dump about six inches tonight. And oh how I am the minority. Which makes me feel uncomfortable and fiercely proud all at once. And then, there is the small fact that my parents are still here so I can't be too homesick yet. But come on, how could you not fall in love with this view:

This is a picture of the Wasatch Mountains taken from my driveway. They are gorgeous. And at night the valley is alive with Christmas lights and it I imagine hard enough it's almost like I live in the Hollywood Hills and I am looking down on Los Angeles, only there are huge mountains jutting out of L.A. instead of, like, an ocean. And, as promised, here is a picture of the house:

Remember that we are renting. No I did not inherit a bajillion dollars so that I could simultaneously own a home in Riverton, Utah and Ramona, California. Please go away interest only financial burden or what I like to call "Next time, maybe, trust your instincts and don't play around with creative financing." Anyway, all that to say that the house is pretty amazing. It's just a long way from the church which, after all, is why we're here.

Okay, folks, there you have it. I NaBloPMo'd my brains out. I blogged every...single...day during the month of November. I used ellipsis wrong. I started sentences with and, but and because. I started in the south of California and ended in the north of Utah. But I so did it.

Where Is Melody Creek?

So, when we drove into our town on Tuesday night, the street signs were covered in snow. This was a problem since we had no clue where our house was. My husband grabbed the closest thing he could find, a toilet brush, and started throwing it at the street signs, knocking bits of snow off at a time. I laughed so hard my face hurt. If anyone was looking out their window at 8:30 mountain time, they definitely think they have weird new neighbors.

The Day Has Come

Today is the day. Turns out that directions from my old house to my new house are incredibly easy. Directions to Riverton:


15 N


215 N


215 turns into 15N (again)


Exit Bangerter (in Riverton)


Right onto 11800


Right onto Janice


Right onto Melody Creek





Possible Stops


1. Barstow


2. Las Vegas


3. Cedar City


4. Nephi





Alternate Stops if I have to go to the bathroom too many times! (probable)


Victorville


Primm, NV


Littlefield, AZ


Cedar City


Fillmore


Provo





If my bladder is awesome! (doubtful)


Baker


St George


Nephi





I'll let you know how the roadtrip was when we get there.

Tired

I'm tired. I've packed up my whole house and cleaned it and I'm tired. Nevermind that tomorrow I have to get up at 4:30 and drive for the whole day.

I'm in total denial that I have to say goodbye. Who knows, maybe I'll be so exhausted in the morning that it won't really hit me. How long can one effectively live in denial?

All Moved Out

It's really awesome when Cox is supposed to turn off your cable and internet on Monday and they turn it off on Saturday. It makes keeping your monthly posting promise difficult. It means you have to blog from your parent's house.

What else is awesome is having an empty house because all of your belongings are in a moving van. Yah.

But we had ample amounts of help to get that moving van loaded. It made me feel loved.

I don't want to unpack it. I don't think I will. I might just become a stuffless nomad. Hmmmm.

Tomorrow is deep cleaning day. I'm, um, not excited.

Latitude 40

Okay. It just got...interesting. I decided to check the weather for the next ten days in northern Utah. You know, cuz I'll live there, in four days. Um, I don't know if you understand that I freeze to near death in Southern California. That's right. Latitude of 32. Do you know the latitude of Salt Lake City? 40! It is eight degrees further from the Equator. Y'all (I'm Southern now) I'm pretty fond of the Equator. I don't really want to move away from it. Just to put that in perspective for you, if I moved eight degrees closer to my tropical friend, Equator, I would be in THE BAHAMAS. It's, um, warm there. My thin blood would be happier there. A lot. Probably. So back to the part where I tell you that I checked the weather. First let me show you the weather in Ramona for the next ten days:

Ramona
74- sunny
71- mostly cloudy
72- partly cloudy
71- partly cloudy
70- partly cloudy
69- mostly sunny
65- mostly sunny
64- few showers
64- showers
62- partly cloudy

Here is the weather for Riverton, Utah (where my house is)
42- sunny
45- mostly sunny
44- partly cloudy
41- cloudy
36- partly cloudy
41- cloudy
37- snow showers
36- partly cloudy
40- sunny
45- sunny

Those 40-45 degree days are about thirty degrees colder than I like it. Actually, closer to 40 degrees colder than I like it. I like my weather between 75-82. Those days that are in the thirties, well, I don't really even know what that means. It gets that cold at night, in the dead of winter, in Ramona, but I am tucked cozily in my blankets. I do not have to frolic on over to the grocery store, or church, or venture outside with my son who would happily live in the yard if I'd let him. And this snow showers thing I'm seeing. I've heard of snow. I've even, actually seen it. In fact, I used to ski on it. But it stays there, on the mountain. It doesn't come down and effect my life! I'm shaking for two reasons. Reason number one is because I'm scared. Reason number two is because it's 70 degrees here in Ramona. A good five degrees colder than I like it.

Oh, by the way, in Nassau (Bahamas) it's supposed to be between 80-83 for the next ten days. When my dad and Troy glance in the side mirrors of the U-Haul and wonder where the Santa Fe went, I'll be driving it to the airport in plenty of time to make my flight. I won't need much, just a bathing suit and a cabana. Ahhh, that will be the life.

These Are A Few Of My Favorite Things

This whole moving shenanigan has given me the privilege of spending time with some of my dearest friends. Unfortunately, our lives don't cross often enough. But, when someone declares relocation, the blessing of time is always made. In the past couple of weeks, I have seen several of my closest and oldest friends.

Jenni and I have been friends since high school. We rolled together, in our gang, The LOOPs. If you're curious, LOOPs stood for Last Ones On the Planet. It was spearheaded by, and thus, fairly exclusively limited to, the five core members. In essence, however, it extended to anyone who had not had "the sex." The tribe was concocted during our senior year when one by one by one, we discovered that another friend or acquaintance had thrown her virginity out the metaphorical window. It seemed, at times, that we were literally the last ones on the planet who thought it was worth saving. We are now both happily married and have had different life experiences since graduating from high school but, whenever we get together, I feel a little bit like Samantha and Teensy from Now & Then. Even though I'm no longer the actor and she, well, is.

Jayni is actually my most antique friend (that I am still in contact with). We became friends sometime during the year that I was seven and she was six. No matter how old, beautiful and successful Jayni gets, she will always be that scrawny little seven-year-old in the gigantic cast at my 8th birthday party. And the two of us have the gift of gab, indeed. I think you could put me on Mars for thirty years and then plop me down in Jayni's living room and the two of us would be able to talk for another twenty about the experience. The duo of Jayni and me is one of Troy's favorites. He finds us uproarious. It's good be to be found funny. We were never "best friends" but our steadfast friendship has endured 19 years...and counting.

Kelli was one of my roommates in college. She was one of my bridesmaids. I was one of hers. She now lives in Washington with her hubby but was down for a visit because she is also my token genius friend. Everyone needs one of those, by the way. She is getting her doctorate from UCSD and had to have meetings or something or other on the campus, so she killed two birds with one stone and got together with me while she was here. Kelli is just one of the nicest people I know. For example, in college, during freshman year, my roommate and I were oil and water and it was Kelli's (and Michelle's) room that I slept in when I decided to pretty much move out of my room. Through the huge trial of living with someone who blew her hair dry two feet from my sleeping head, God blessed me with a lifelong friend.

I hated Kristin when I met her. The story is long and involves the pathological liar, but all that really matters is that it took me about two months to realize that Kristin was, indeed, a good apple. One of the best, in fact. It might have had something to do with the beached whale costume. Kristin and I are really quite different. She's talent and, well, I am enthusiasm. She gets lost every time she comes to my house but seems to have mastered the New York subway system, a network of trains and tracks and entrances and exits that boggles my mind. But even though she has a propensity toward misplacing herself, she braved the freeways and came to visit me because she's swell like that.

Cassie/Cassandra moved to Ramona when we were in the 2nd grade. We were insta-best friends for a year. Then we had some kind of elementary fallout and loathed one another until middle school. From then on we were extremely close again, taking production classes together, swimming on the same year-round team and the Varsity high school team together, going on camping trips, etc. At age seven, we pretended to stage plays in her basement. At age 14, we pretended to be famous. At age 18, we pretended that college wouldn't distance us. It did, as college often does, but you can put us in a kitchen, around plates of Caesar salad, and it's like we're those same little kids. We run in different crowds, but then, we kind of always did. Our lives are as different as night as day. She takes a taxi around New York City and flies to Norway for the weekend and I drive my Santa Fe with the baby in the backseat. Still, sitting at her table, laughing and learning about her life, I can't help but catch a glimpse of the teenagers we once were, running down to the basement to finish a project, or the seven-year-olds off to put the finishing touches on their play.

These are a few of my good friends. They are diamonds in the rough. Of course I have others, these are just the ones that I have seen over the past two weeks. Others are in their own cities in their own states with their own lives and I miss them. I once had a picture framed in my room that said, "Dear friends are like antiques. They become more precious as time goes by." I've been friends with Jenni for about eleven years, Jayni for nineteen, Kelli for eight, Kristin for seven, and Cass for one plus thirteen. It's true. They are all so much more lovely to me than the day I met them.

Suffocation

Today is my last Tuesday in California. At this time next week I expect to be somewhere near Vegas on my way to a new life. If I wasn't so busy self medicating with boxes and phone calls, I would be able to feel my heart breaking.

I want to breathe everything in. To remember it all exactly as it is. To savor being Californian. I'm desperately trying to scorch images of sea and sun and remembrance and life onto that place just behind the eyes, the hamlet where nostalgia dwells and my soul only aches a little. I am telling myself that this too shall pass. But in that comfortable adage I discover a new fear. Perhaps, one day, I will have forgotten that this is home. It isn't the house, though I am having a terrible time tearing myself away from my son's first room. It isn't even the things I know and the routine of it all. It is the way that I am inexplicably alive in this space.

Utah is fine. It's a beautiful place to visit. I might have even been able to pull up a chair and stay for awhile, by a fire, with the snow-covered Wasatch Mountains peering through the window. Perhaps I will find solace in the slower pace, peace in the biting cold, and warmth in the welcome. But I will not ever find California. For what has always been under the sole of my shoe now eludes me. My definition of home will evaporate with the breath that I am holding. And I can only wait so long to exhale.

Upon Leaving My Home

Troy: I think that your dad and I will do the majority of the driving and you'll hop back and forth between the two vehicles.

Me: Really? I kinda thought I'd be driving the Santa Fe and you and my dad would take turns driving the moving van.

Troy: But you'll get annoyed with all the meowing and the panting.

Me: Well, I'm going to start out driving the Santa Fe. That's for sure.

Troy: Ok. Why?

Me: Because, initially there will be a whole lot of tears. We're talking floodgates. No one should have to see that.

Troy: Are you going to get in an accident?

Me: I'll let you know.

It Takes A Woman

In trying to set up phone/internet/cable service in Utah I was on the phone with Comcast for over 45 minutes. They kept sending me to different people in different places with different accents. It was special.

First I called someone who must have been in India. It took me over a minute just to get him to understand the letters I was saying as I spelled out the street name. He told me that service was not available in my new area.

So I tried another number. I was on hold for five minutes. He told me that service was available but that I needed to call directly to Riverton.

I was on hold for 10 minutes and I got a guy who asked me if Riverton was in California. Oh how I wish. I informed him that, no, it wasn't and I had just been on hold for 10 minutes waiting for someone who was specifically in Riverton. "Oh, I'm in California, ma'am." Well, yah, me too. But I need a freaking phone number in freezing Utah!

He gave me a direct number, complete with Salt Lake City area code. A lovely, English speaking, Megan set me up with my new phone, new cable, new internet and, for five extra dollars, wireless. Now Troy can work on sermons from any room in the house. (It was also at this point that we realized that wireless works within several hundred feet. So that's how Troy was picking up internet in my grandparent's living room.) She asked me why, in the world, I am moving to Utah? I ask myself that every single day.

Anyway, I have a new number. I told her I wanted the easiest one she had. Email me if you want it. The moral of this story is that I should have just started with a woman from the beginning.

Packing

Yesterday my mom came over and we packed for maybe six hours straight. There are boxes everywhere but it just doesn't feel like I've made a dent. Troy already had stuff here when we got married. I brought stuff in. People gave us hoards of loot for our wedding. Four years of "stuff incurring" has transpired. We had a baby. He got stuff. It doesn't seem to matter what we sell, what we pitch into the trashcan, what we burn, bury or hide, there's just a whole lot of substance to pack into containers, boxes and bags. She'll be over soon and we'll do it all again. Except, you know, different stuff this time. (Love you, Mom. Could NOT do it without you.)

In other news, does anyone, I repeat, anyone, want to buy my house? Come on, you know you do. Or, if a whole house is just a little too expensive, how about an organ? Actually, you can just have the organ, take it away from me. Toddlers love 'em.

I should probably get a move on (hardy har I crack myself up). There's packing and laundering and stressing to be done.

And, yes, I miss my family. I'm trying not to think about it.

They've Left Me

One could argue that Garrett has always been a part of me. Or, at least, that half of him has always been a part of me. After all, a female is born with all of her eggs. So, never before has he been this far away from me, hovering somewhere over Nevada and on his way to Portland.

My husband's family got the crazy notion that now would be a good time for a visit. Nevermind that we're moving in 18 days. While I could definitely have used my husband this weekend (he's been gone three hours and I've already been on the phone with the guy handling our new health insurance and the new church, asking, answering and fielding questions) I think I'll get more done without the baby. If I put one thing in a box, Garrett pulls two things out. So it's probably a blessing in disguise.

But walking away from them at the airport, telling my toddler that I'd see him in three days, was actually harder than I thought it would be. I seriously almost cried. Seriously. And when I got home there was a message from Daddy and Garrett. At the end the boy babbles something into the machine. I didn't delete it. If I need to hear his voice during the next three days I fully intend to push play.

Have fun Troy and boy. Laugh, play, visit, eat at Izzy's. I'll be here, packing away and dealing with all the odds and ends. It's almost like going on vacation. Except without the fun and the Izzy's.

They better return to me in one piece with no plane crashes to speak of. Because if they don't I'll have to unpack everything. Well, that and the fact that I would be thrown in the loony bin and probably put on suicide watch.

Anticipation

I've been a little bit of a downer lately. With the exception, maybe, of the boob blog, I've been on my woe-is-me-I-have-to-leave-this-awesome-place-and-I'm-less-than-thrilled soap box. While I still maintain that only the truly insane or the wives of the truly insane would ever pack up and leave this mecca, there are some things I'm looking forward to:

1. The stage at OUR NEW CHURCH. Previously, at MVCC, all plays had to be blocked so that the actors could walk off the stage and exit through doors--there was no way to get "backstage" without first getting "offstage." The very first thing I noticed on our first trip to Salt Lake back in August was the stage. It's nothing glorious or fancy but by gosh there are doors ON THE STAGE that lead to a backstage area. My heart and vision are happy. Very happy.

2. Seasons (sort of). I am not looking forward to learning how to drive in the snow, which everyone tells me I should do in a parking lot. "Hello, fifteen-year-old Lori, didn't think I'd see you again, what are you doing? Learning how to drive in a parking lot. Awesome. Me too." I don't think this time will come complete with my mother white-knuckling the armrest but you never know. And I'm not looking forward to my thin California blood going through the painful-and often freezing-process of thickening up. I am, however, looking forward to a white (keeping my fingers crossed) or at least chilly Christmas. It's true that I don't mind a warm San Diego holiday but I just can't see being upset over hot chocolate and blankets galore. And I think, come April, I will be so sick of the snow that spring, for the first time, will seem like the crispest of miracles.

3. I am looking forward to cultivating new relationships with the congregation, most of whom are so very excited about our arrival. Of course, I will desperately miss the friends and relationships that I have here at MVCC but I am truly starting to look forward to getting to know the people of OUR NEW CHURCH.

4. Wicked August 2009. I heard a rumor. Happy 6th Anniversary to me! (And Troy, of course) What's that? Well, yes, we have seen it twice already. Your point?

5. Being about twenty minutes away from this:

and, well, this:

and this:

To be completely honest, I'm giddy about all the waterfalls and creeks and ponds and trails and beauty within a half hour of my new home. But, besides leaving my fantastic California-and her ocean-behind, I'm more than just a little nervous about this:

It's not that we don't have an LDS temple here in San Diego because oh how we do...but it shakes the core of my being to think about existing as the minority. I've never been the religious minority...unless you count high school. Even then it was only because it wasn't "cool" to be "religious." And to not only not be a part of the majority, but to label myself as a pastor's wife and my boy as the son of the preacherman, well, sometimes I think I should just put a sticker on my back that says, "Lunatic!"

And then, sometimes, I thank God that He's sending me to Utah and not to Saudi Arabia or Lebanon. At least if I'm going to be one among the masses I'll still get to speak English and enjoy not wearing a burqa.

Here Is Simply Not There

Less than a month left...

and if I actually let myself think about it, dwell on it, meditate on its depth, the weight of it all suffocates in my throat and my eyes hurt around the edges.

The Prognosis: One month left of life as I know it.

I've been on a blogging hiatus. You see, the only thing I can even think to write about is moving, leaving, saying goodbye, putting a period at the end of the sentence at the end of the paragraph at the end of the 26th chapter set here in sunny Southern California. And, until now, I couldn't write about it, couldn't let the cat out of the bag (although, apparently, the world is chock-full of people who tell one person who tells one person because some people found out two weeks ago that I was moving. I find this very peculiar since I, myself, did not find out until a week ago). To say that I don't really, particularly, want to go, would probably be the understatement of the year, if not the decade, if not the past 26 years. My life is here and always has been.

But Sarah probably didn't want to follow her husband to Canaan and Jonah didn't exactly jump at the chance to go to Ninevah. I, personally, would rather not see the belly of a whale, thank you very much. So, in an attempt to go where He sends us, my little family is packing up and heading to the Great Salt Lake. (Insert no we are not LDS here). Troy has accepted a Senior Pastor position at a church in the Salt Lake area of Utah. Fortunately, he will be receiving enough of a raise that I will get to stay home with Garrett. While I don't mind working a couple days a week, I love being with him all day long and this will be a huge blessing.

Of course, I could write forever about how much I'll miss seeing my parents whenever I want and how hard it will be to leave the church I've been a part of for the past sixteen years. I could talk about how no climate will ever suit me as perfectly as this little niche on the map. But I have to go to work in a few minutes so for the time being I'll just make a list of ten things I'll miss:

1. I'll miss being able to drive to my parents' house in less than fifteen minutes.
2. I'll miss my entire family being within 40 minutes (this includes my brother, sister-in-law, neices, nephew, grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins)
3. I will miss the Chargers and the Padres more than any female should ever miss any sports team. But I will remain a steadfast fan.
4. I will miss my hairdresser and my ob/gyn. Wait. Strike that. I will come home for visits and get my hair cut. And, since I will no longer have Kaiser (I WILL MISS KAISER!) I will have to take my ob/gyn with me to Utah. Goodness knows there would be plenty of clients for her there. What? I'm a little obsessive about who touches my head and my-- well, I just don't want to find a new person. At all.
5. I will miss In & Out Burger.
6. I will miss my church.
7. I will miss Sea World and the Zoo and the Wild Animal Park and being within very short driving distance to Disneyland.
8. I will miss my students at MVA.
9. I will miss the way the sun sets over the ocean. (I doubt it looks the same when it sets over the barren Salt Lake.) And, for that matter, I will miss the ocean. I think I'll feel landlocked and all claustrophobic inside.
10. I will miss my life as I have known it for the past 313 months.

More to follow...probably a list of 62,000 or so.