Continental drift.

Dearest readers, it has been an embarrassingly long time since I posted. So long, in fact, that my "remember me" sign-in has expired and the Blogger form has even changed setup. Other changes are coming as well...in the last two weeks, I have taken several trips, interviewed with nearly two dozen people, went to Lollapalooza (dedicated post to come!), accepted a job offer, scheduled a mover, and bought -- for only the second time in my life -- a one-way ticket. I'm moving up the coastline for a great new job opportunity, and to finally be in the same city as my favorite chef. I will also be rejoining one sister and a handful of dear friends from college, so things are looking good.

It has been an emotional whirlwind, saying goodbye to colleagues and a wonderful group of friends I have made here. There is so much positive to come, but I can't help but feel sad about everything I'm leaving behind. I will save my sappy goodbyes for those people in-person, but thank you all for making DC my first true home away from home.

Of course, when everything around you is changing, you cling to the things that taste are familiar. I have reverted almost entirely to comfort foods, allowing myself an unbridled period of carbs -- primarily in the form of noodle soups, milkshakes, and fries -- as I push through finishing work, finding an apartment, and moving. This week I ate at two of my favorite restaurants, Acqua al 2 and Toki Underground, cramming in as many local food trucks and old stand-bys as I can.

One of those stand-bys is a lurid orange-and-blue-painted barcade near work, The Continental. Dubbed "the Conti" by anyone who works at my company, this combination restaurant-bar-shuffleboard-pool-skiball-Big Buck Hunter joint is a popular post-work spot, with decent rail gin and ample seating. It was actually the first bar I went to when I moved here, sitting awkwardly with my new acquaintances who had also just started. One of those acquaintances turned into a very good friend who introduced me to a great crowd.

Serendipitously, Martha (who has since left for graduate school) planned a visit which happened to coincide with my last weekend in town. The two of us used go to the Conti after a particularly long day and drink Shock Top with a basket of fries. When she said she was coming back for the weekend, she said, "I only have one request," and of course I knew what it was. It was an appropriate -- and wonderfully familiar -- way to wrap up this chapter for now.