Rush Lizbaugh

Gainesville, first impressions: hot and colorful. The houses are small and adorable, often vibrantly painted and host to a compulsive number of porches. The streets are lush, sometimes overgrown, and Spanish moss hangs from the branches like wooly mammoth hair, or an air filtration system.

The spiders are immense, pony-sized.

Brown anoles scatter into the brush as you walk through yards and sidewalks. They're an invasive species I'm told, encroaching on the habitats of the native green anole, but I secretly delight in their presense. One larger one that Scott and I named Rush Lizbaugh spends nearly the whole day mounted proudly on the American flag pole that juts from (one of) our porches. He bops up and down and unfurls his bright orange throat flap at no one in particular.

People I have met so far in Gainesville have been very cool and progressive. In an unexpected turn of events, we have roommates already, awesome ones who have invited us to all kinds of fun events like vegan dinner parties, stand-up comedy shows, and an evening town pool screening of Jaws.

I bought a solid teal hybrid bike today and I am happy to be newly mobile, especially since orientation starts tomorrow. And when the moving company brings all our stuff in a couple of days, I'll unpack the camera and snap some pictures of my neighborhood and resume foodie updates, with exciting new recipes featuring buckwheat groats and Japanese bento boxes!

Until next time, be well.