I used to live in the city. Most mornings I would step out my front door and into Starbucks for a tall, non-fat latte with extra foam. Then I would walk next door to Marvelous Market for an almond crescent or an orange muffin. If I needed groceries, I would cross the street to Safeway and maybe stop into the CVS next door to compare prices on drugstore items.
These days, I step out my front door to a family of deer in my path. It is so quiet, I don't hear my neighbors fighting, and I have to drive to my mailbox to collect a fistful of junk mail.
How I made the switch this fall from taxi-hopping-urbanite to a minivan-driving-suburbanite leaves me, at times, astonished. But alas, this past weekend, I unpacked every last box (I needed the space for the Christmas tree) and finally feel like I'm living again.
The one constant though is that I'm still pretty busy (only now I have an extra 530 square feet to be busy in, so there are some pluses to living in the bowels of the burbs). However, I still consider myself an urban event planner. DC is my city. I refuse to let go; I wrote-in Fenty.