We did it! We sold a house, bought a house, moved our stuff, and moved ourselves from The South to The North. From Nashville to Somerville, Massachusetts. From one ville to another. A whole new world to explore and a whole new world to write about. My apologies if you are tired and bored already.

I’m doing lots of walking as I get to know the territory. Come with me as we explore. I think you’re going to be happy you are here. I know we are.

Ah, the joys of knowing virtually no one in my new town. I can walk around singing this song, substituting the words “Somerville Swinging”, to my heart’s content. To quote Kool and the Gang, “Here I am…Well I guess, I guess I'll stay.” This one is for all my friends who grew up watching Soul Train and dancing around in their jammies to these masterpieces.

I’m not one bit sure what goes on in this house, but I want an invite to a Dance Party. Also, I’d love to play with some of those toy horses, like I did in 3rd grade.

I love living in a place with lots of history and historical markers to tell you about all of it. Paul Revere? The Boston Tea Party? No, I’m talking about important events like the invention of Fluff. Apparently, Somerville hosts the What the Fluff? Festival in September. I promise to report back on what that entails.

Speaking of important historic figures in the area, did you know that Donna Summer was born and raised in Boston? Unfortunately, I was away for the dance party in June celebrating her legacy. I will not make that mistake twice. “Ooh. You and me.”?

There are lots and lots of bicycles here. O.K., not as many as in Amsterdam, but hey, this is the U.S. There is a long path a few blocks from our house which bisects Somerville. It is is just for cyclists and pedestrians. No pick-up trucks or SUV’s in sight. Bliss. I hope the skeleton on the bicycle I saw along the path isn’t some subtle statement about bike safety here.

Lots and lots of religious -and other sculpture friends - greet me from the front yards around our neighborhood. Seems like many people here are looking for blessings from Saint Anthony (or Mickey Mouse or a gargoyle).

I really did breathe a sigh of relief when we crossed into the Northeast on our drive out of Tennessee. Yes, I was sad to say goodbye to our dear neighbors and a few friends. But I was not one bit sad to leave behind the rusty Red politics or the tornadoes. We hadn’t done much driving during our Nashville era, so the roadtrip felt loong. Best road trip song ever. I hummed it inside my head.

“I got five more miles to go, now
Over the hill, just around the bend
Although my feet are tired, I can't lose my stride
I got to get to my baby again”

(And yes I do realize that my baby is turning 29 soon, but I still see this in my head sometimes when I’m talking to her.)

Imagine my “joy” when I saw this little piece of Tennessee just down the street from our new Somerville home. I had to surreptitiously snap this photo before the fine individual who lives here came outside. I can report back that his hair is a faux-blond-orange, eerily similar to his fearless leader’s shade. Thank goodness: he seems to be an island in a sea of Blue here.

Sadly, I also seem to have brought some weather-related vestiges of Nashville life to Somerville. We had a tornado warning about two weeks after we arrived. And then came the hot, miserably sticky weather. Somerville, I am truly sorry. I had no idea weather could follow you from one house to another.

Let’s get back to the positive side of the ledger, shall we? When we were looking at houses, we knew we wanted to be within walking distance of restaurants, coffee shops, and grocery stores. In other words, to have a little of our Amsterdam lifestyle here in Somerville. And yes, there is lots and lots of great eating and drinking and shopping that’s just a walk or bike ride away. Are we thrilled? Well, sort of. The reality of the situation is a little more complicated. There is a fabulous ice cream shop (The Tipping Cow) at the end of our block. A few weeks after we moved in, the community art project that paints the metal utility boxes around town expressed concern - or at least apologies - for the effect the proximity to delish ice cream has had on our attempts to get in Somerville shape. We have visited this shop a shocking number of times since moving here in early June.

Seriously, an ice cream shop on our block? We did land in the Emerald City after all.

“Tell the world that we finally got it all right
I choose you”. Yes, Sara Bareilles. You got that right.

Speaking of the Emerald City: the flowers were glorious when we arrived in early June. I am poring over lots and lots of hydrangea porn in Somerville. I guess I’m not alone in my hydrangea obsession. It’s an Internet thing nowadays. I’m told the mild winter and rainy spring produced this gorgeous explosion of colorֶ throughout the Northeast. I like to think of the hydrangeas as a personal welcome mat to us, and I’m very appreciative.

It’s not just the flowers that are lighting up my world with color. It’s also the houses. A lot has been written recently about how even in places like San Francisco, the colorful houses are disappearing, replaced by greys. As someone who is going grey herself, I should be O.K. with houses doing it too. Nashville was chock full of grey (and also white and black houses). But I do love a colorful house, and there are lots of them here in Somerville.

So how did the move go, you ask? Or maybe you didn’t. That’s because no one really wants to hear your moving stories. Recently, I came across a mention of a video game called Unpacking. I am mystified. “Unpacking is a game about the familiar experience of pulling possessions out of boxes and fitting them into a new home.” We are doing that in real life. Who would find any enjoyment in playing a game about unpacking ? I feel old just thinking about all the unpacking we still need to do. Lord knows I have no desire to play games about it.

As of this moment, I feel like I can never move again. Maybe as the years go on, I’ll change my mind. I suppose I will. But for now, Somerville, I’m yours. And this gives me the chance to shout: Cass Elliot’s voice! Good Lord.

“I'm gonna stay right here by your side
Do my best to keep you satisfied
Nothin' in the world can drive me away
Every day, you'll hear me say

Baby, I'm yours (baby, I'm yours)”

Yes, I can hear you whispering: But what will she think about Somerville once the winter weather blows in? She’ll be singing a different tune then, you say? I’m choosing to focus on the positive. I still have a lot of sweaters. And then there’s climate change. And also, Jon Batiste - who we were lucky enough to hear at Tanglewood - an outdoor music venue in the Berkshires - this summer. Thanks to our dear friends for having a house on a lake out there. Jon Batiste has a good strategy all lined up for me:

“Grab your coat and get your hat
Leave your worries on the doorstep
Just direct your feet to the sunny side of the street”

Are things perfect here? Of course not. But they are certainly pretty, pretty good, as Larry David likes to say. Rachel lives in the same town, our friends Marc and Deb are here, and we don’t have to pack up and move for a long, long time. What more can a gal ask for?

Walden Pond with Rachel. An absolutely lovely day in every way,.

Do I love living across the street from a misspelled word? The answer is of course not. But I do love looking out the window at all the comings and goings. And of course, the convenience of having all that stuff there in a pinch: priceless.

“I think I'll go to Boston, I think I'll start a new life
I think I'll start it over, where no one knows my name”

O.K. I do know a few people here. I just happen to like this next song. Recently, I came across an article that was directed squarely at me. It told me that what I really need to do now is find my Third Places. Those are the local spots - like coffee places, farmers’ markets, and restaurants - where people recognize me and make me feel at home. I’m working on it. I’m just starting to get to know my new ‘ville. So far, so good.

-In loving memory of Lenore, the most devoted mother-in-law and reader of my blog. We wish you could see us in Somerville. You would love it here.