<a href="http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/P41000031.jpg"><img class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-5097" title="OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA" src="http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/P41000031-300x225.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="225" /></a>Wow, I love my city.

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I moved out here when I was 25 for my first teaching job and (kinda sorta) a hot guy.  Not kinda sorta that he was hot.  He resembled <strong><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001557/mediaindex" target="_blank">Viggo Mortensen </a></strong>who my sister has always gone nuts over.  My Viggo look-alike was a sculptor, a thinker, a dog lover.   He was pre-Aidan, but now we would recognize his demeanor as "Aidan-ish".  (The female readers are nodding excitedly and the male readers are scratching their heads right about now.)

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Anywho, I met him at Montessori teacher training, and now you know why I was kinda sorta inclined to look for jobs out here.  (I turned down Honolulu and Nashville.  Juneau rejected me.)

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Since my Viggo look-alike was an artiste, he was naturally free-spirited.  He sat me down one night and told me that he couldn't be tied down, and he wouldn't marry until he was 50.

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This was SHOCKING to a Naive 25 year-old.  SHOCKING, I tell you!

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Nowadays, commitment-phobe artistes are par for the course in my world.

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Let me wrap this little non-love story up:  There was no great romance once I moved here, but I stayed anyway.  I also met my (now ex-)husband two months later, but now I really digress.

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My point is that I fell in love with this city, and I have been here ever since.

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