Tomorrow night I'm hopping on a plane to Seattle for the Thanksgiving holiday. With weather conditions in Seattle, it'll be like flying from spring into winter. I hope I won't freeze, having acclimated to the warmer Los Angeles climate.
Since I've moved to Los Angeles, I estimate I've flown to Seattle 10 times over the course around 16 months. That looks pretty frequent, but it owes to a couple of factors. A, I like Seattle and I don't mind going back. It's close. B the flights are convenient from an airport about 10-15 minutes away from work, and I can take flights out on a Friday night and return on a Monday morning.
I always figured I'd start making these trips less and less frequently as I'd lived away longer, and while numerically that's not that case, psychologically it's starting to feel that way. I'm no longer actively planning and anticipating the trips as far in advance as I used to as my weeks and weekends become more full here. The cumulative changes to my home city are growing each time I return and my new city is becoming more familiar. My friend Travis McCoy once said to him new places started to become home when they became the place you returned to. In my mind I'm still making an active choice that LA is not my home, just where I work and live, but I do neither of those is Seattle so that idea will erode. I've often likened Los Angeles to a black hole, where routine and inertia can pull you in and never let you out. I may get stuck in the well too eventually.
But as far the next 24 hours, I'm landing (hopefully) in Seattle, blazing into what my friends there are calling Snowpocalypse, Snowmageddon, and my favorite, SnOMG!