Life as a City Princess

So, I’m really not much of a princess, I swear. I’m not married to a prince (well, yes, he is Prince
Charming to me, but not in the sovereign sense), nor is my mother the Queen (hmm, maybe I should rethink
that statement as well). As for other definitions, I am not a fairytale princess: I don’t live in a
tower, I’ve never been poisoned by a witch and none of my shoes are made from glass. Conversely, I’m
also not a spoiled rich girl: I take out garbage, buy clothes at a consignment store, do dishes and can bait
a hook.
However, there is an addendum to my first statement. I wear tiaras when playing cards and drinking
whiskey, I have clothing that has feathers on it, and I don’t like to be cold or walk far in the rain (unless
it’s on purpose). So when I moved to the city, I realized right away I had to make some changes; I had to
lose part of my inner princess.
First of all, I live in an artsy area, so thank goodness my wardrobe choices didn’t have to change.
Actually, I found I could get even a little more creative and still not seem too far out there. No, what I
had to change was my attitude.
I’ve never been a city mouse. Actually, I’ve never been a country mouse either, unless you count the
time my ex-husband and I lived on a half-acre of land and had chickens and ducks and tomato plants and
a rooster that annoyed the whole neighborhood. No, I’ve always been a suburbs kinda girl. Sidewalks,
driveways, garages, and neighbors who kept to themselves pretty much - that was the norm of my
existence. Walking to a store or restaurant was unheard of. Walking the dog was the only time I’d
venture out. I would drive home, open the garage, pull the car in, close the garage and walk into the
house. If I went outside it was to sit on our back deck. I saw our neighbors when we’d have a party or
when shoveling snow from a big snowfall. (I guess I should be clear – I watched my husband shovel
snow as I played with the dogs and chatted with the neighbors).
Being a suburb mouse is great. It’s what we all know and feel comfortable with. Being a city mouse is
more of an adventure. It’s a life where you aren’t sure what will come next. It’s a life filled with
scraping ice off of the windshield yourself, because your husband left for work early. And not just ice off
the windshield. Since I wasn’t able to just walk into the garage and jump into my warm, dry car, I had to
navigate down icy steps to do it. Wanting to be safe, I realized I needed to salt the steps. There really
isn’t much salt in those little Morton salt shakers.
Being a city mouse means changing how you look at things. Wanting to totally live outside our comfort
zone, we chose a 100 year old home. Old homes are charming and warm and inviting. Old homes
generally don’t have Jacuzzi bathtubs, basements with bars and a pantry the size of a small bedroom.
Old homes don’t have much closet space. Princesses tend to have large wardrobes. Since I’m not really
a princess, my wardrobe is only kind of large. So two weeks after moving in, I am still trying to find
creative ways to store my clothes, and they are all spread out throughout the house. Soon I will need a
map of the places I have squirreled away my wardrobe. (Note to self: remove belts and hats before
turning on the oven). However, I have found that what I lack in space, I have garnered two-fold in
charm.
Being a city princess isn’t that bad. I know my neighbors better here in two weeks than I ever did in the
‘burbs. I can walk just about anyplace worthwhile. I have a front porch. And I will use it. I already know
my mail carriers name and that she is left-handed. I can put out my used treasures in the alley and the
“pickers” will magically make them disappear. I have found more dog-lovers per square foot than I
knew existed. And best of all, I found out that I am stronger willed than I ever thought I was – and that if
I put my mind to something, I truly can do it. Here’s to a new adventure and here’s to a new type of
princess. And here’s to my 180 shift of the show Green Acres – Hello, City Life!