This past weekend, Kurt and I hosted a small gathering to say goodbye...to ourselves. When our move became a reality, we immediately made plans to have a backyard BBQ to celebrate and say goodbye, but when we started to count off the weekends left before we board the plane, we realized that there was really only one that we could work with. The rest are booked and busy and there just is not going to be enough of us to go around. Still, even with the ridiculously short notice, quite a few of our favorites were able to come and drink, BBQ sausage, laugh and break chairs with us, which was great. What was not great was the huge black cloud that settled over the sun at about the time that the first guests arrived, and dumped its contents on our house (and BBQ) shortly after that. Good thing our house is so empty that it echoes...we just set up lawn chairs in what used to be the dining room and sat on coolers. We do not skimp on the swank.

However, there is a certain perception that has been brought to my attention through the use of innuendos disguised as jokes and offhanded remarks which I would like to address. And since I'm not actually pointing this at any person in particular - it's more of a get-this-off-my-chest kind of post - I don't think it qualifies as the ever-pathetic "Airing of Dirty Laundra via Blog". Though, I have to admit that I do feel an overwhelming desire to overuse the exclamation point while typing.

I have always gotten a lot of thinly-veiled flack about my desire to leave Ottawa at some point. Besides those who just simply don't understand why anyone would ever want to live anywhere else, there seems to be an illusion that we are not going because it's a great opportunity and for the whole adventure aspect, but because I want to get the hell out of here and Kurt is my VIP card.

Bitch, please.

I love Ottawa. And I love the life I have built in Ottawa during my 5 years here. Moving to Ottawa was the best decision I could have made, and I've never once regretted it. But while I do love it and enjoy so many aspects of it, I am painfully aware of what it is lacking for me. If I had ever been desperate to leave, I would have.

Perhaps a creative comparison is necessary:

Living in Victoria is like sitting around a beach fire with hoards of university students vying for one decent job, a yogi, a yuppie, a couple of former Ontarians, a fairly serious contingent of the elderly, and a selectively homeless person (they will go home when their Beach Drive-dwelling parents lift their 11:30 p.m. curfew)*. Accessories include a SmartCar, matching nylon track suits, a large dog, a reusable Starbucks coffee mug, and a joint. Organic and locally grown, of course.

Living in Ottawa is like an evening at an Irish pub, flanked by hoards of the shamelessly-name-dropping-wannabe-upwardly-mobile, an aspiring politico, a mad scientist, a farmer, a couple of Quebecois and a homeless person. Accessories include a speeding ticket, a BlackBerry, a Jos. Louis, a designer purse, and a coffee from Timmy's. Double double.

Each of these descriptions will appeal to different people for different reasons. For me, I'll take the first, but I'm not going to lie and say that there is nothing appealing about the second. I fell right into it and have enjoyed it thoroughly (minus the Jos. Louis, since I do not enjoy a processed cake product...much to Kurt's dismay). Unfortunately, Victoria is not an option for us because we quite simply can't afford to live there without taking a fairly serious hit to our current lifestyle. We know what we love and what we can't live without, and these things are important enough to us to shove Victoria off the table. Or at least down to the other end of the table. For now, anyways.

No matter where we live, one or both of us will be away from our family and closest friends, but we have to at least try to be fair. At least our new adventure puts us in equal territory. As in, the only person I will have there is him, and the only person he will have there is me. This will either be awesome, or a complete trainwreck, but it is like the Switzerland in the logistical and geographical challenge that is our relationship. I'm mostly looking forward to seeing how we do completely on our own, without either of our families and with none of our friends around. It's going to be good for us to stand on our own for awhile, live our own lives, and see if we can survive moving from a 1700 square foot 3-bedroom (3 bathroom) townhouse to a one bedroom (one bathroom...) apartment. He just may have to give in and become my new America's Next Top Model friend, in the absence of C-Mo and my B.C. ANTM Contingent. Given the 500 square feet (if we're lucky) that we'll be living in, he'll have no choice but to enjoy a little Tyra with me. At least I have him hooked on the Hills already.