I was at a conference in Tulsa these past few days. It was more of a "bleah, bleah, bleah, same old, same old" type of thing. I got sick and missed Friday, which, considering the silent treatment I'm getting at work today, must have been a big deal. Yawn. I hate my job.

I stayed with my friends, Jai and Mark, from college and they announced they're moving to New Jersey this next summer to be closer to their families and taking my goddaughter with them. My friend, Robyn, has already announced that when her husband's "stint" in South Korea is finished, they're going to live in Virginia. Why is everyone leaving me here in Okie-land?!?! What is it about being "back East" that's just so appealing? As my friend, Jai, extolled the virtues of where she will live, these were the only arguments I could come up with for her to stay:

Back East: Art in the way of museums in New York City and Philadelphia, known world-wide for their collections.

Okie-land: Art in the way of flea markets with tributes to John Wayne tastefully rendered in black velvet.

Back East: History in the way of the birth of our country and the Smithsonian.

Okie-land: History in the way of my small town museum that has, get this, a real covered wagon.

Back East: Four real seasons of the year with clear delienations between them.

Okie-land: Kind of three "seasons." Right now, we're in the "dear god, how can it go from 85 to 35 degree highs in one day?!?!?" season. This, next March, will segue nicely into "Tornado" season where you spend your evenings convincing toddlers they're having fun sitting in the closet wearing a bicycle helmet while sirens blare outside. Finally, we'll go into the "jesus, it's so hot I could cook an egg on the sidewalk if it wasn't so humid" season.

See, why would anyone want to move? Yeah, okay, so do I.