There are anticipated issues that have arisen directly due to my 3000 mile move...you know, the standard stuff like missing the family, not being able to do my weekly lunch with Steve, not being able to call James/Sabra and grab sushi, not going to the gym with Jeremy, etc, etc...most of them involve specific people or specific things. I was adequately warned that there was no good Mexican food (I really did not believe you Kevin, but holy mackerel, it is terrible. I long for a good carne asada burrito from one of the 'toes brothers)...My mom made sure I knew that fruit and vegetables were not as good outside Cali (again, I did not believe her, but wow she was right. I just want a good peach and an avocado, please...I beg you.)...I was even warned that flip flops did not exist east of Arizona (the coffee shop lady made fun of me last week. Sure, it was 50 degrees outside, I was wearing my Kobians, and my feet turned purple, but she did not have to be so mean about it)...but one thing that nobody warned me about was the slow pace of driving. I had heard that we drove fast in Cali, but I always thought people were just crazy. Then, I came out here and realized that not only is the speed limit 10 mph less, people actually pay attention to it. If I set the cruise at 60, I have to weave in and out of traffic just to keep up the pace. C'mon Virginia, blind old women in wheel chairs drive faster than that on PCH.
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