Welcome!

So this is life in Cincinnati, Ohio. Or rather, life in Covington, Kentucky.

Or to be truly correct, this is going to be about life in Covington, Kentucky, the small city just across the Ohio River from Cincinnati, where Jason, Poppyseed, Big Cat, Little Cat and I now reside.

I know, I still can't quite believe it myself, despite the small bruises I have on my arm from incessantly pinching myself.

How did this happen?

Well, the answer is a version of the same story that anyone tells when they recite why they're moving away from their beloved homeland to some foreign area:

After being laid off in early July, discovering there was a teeny, combined version of the two of us growing inside of me in early August, and being offered an amazing opportunity by Jason's company, Epipheo, to work in-house in Cincinnati as a Senior Designer in September, we packed up our belongings in two pods, lived in between Spokane, Washington and The Sea Ranch, California like nomadic gypsies and eventually headed east.

It seemed like the smartest and most adult-like decision we could make.

That's right, believe it or not, adult-like.

We won't be here forever; in fact, we already have a self-appointed friend in Portland whose main job within the next few years is to ensure that we come back (Apparently there's a saying that those born in Ohio stay in Ohio. We can't let that happen to Poppyseed) to the Best Coast. But for now, Covington is our home.

Most of our friends and family don't know much about the area. Heck, we don't know much about the area. But I figured that maintaining a blog will empower me to share all of the weird and wacky experiences we have here in the midwest; from redefining the "20 minute neighborhood" to learning what "please?" actually means over here, I'll record it all for anyone's viewing pleasure.

"But what's with the blog title?"

Oh right. That thing. The meaning is two-fold:

1. All of our friends and family know that when Jason started working for Epipheo and he was first being wooed to move to Cinci that there was "absolutely no way in hell we'd move over there." Basically, pigs would have to fly.

You must have seen them in the sky by now.

2. Cincinnati has a quirky infatuation with flying pigs, so much in fact, that the flying pig is a bit of a mascot of the city and the namesake of the city's marathon (which I plan to conquer in May 2015). You see, in 1835, Cincinnati was the nation's pork-packing center (mmm, yummy). Five years later, the Queen City was king of the pork-packing world, slaughtering and shipping off 1/4 million hogs annually. You could say Cinci really brought home the bacon. To commemorate Cincinnati's 200th birthday, the city drew up plans to build a riverfront park, complete with a sweet entrance sculpture to the park. The artist, a Mr. Andrew Leicester, decided bronzed, winged pigs would best immortalize the awesomeness of the past 200 years in America.

Well, some people thought it was awesome. Others feared the city would become the laughing stock of the nation (Which, in my opinion, is a bit far reached. Obviously my fellow Cincinnatians need to get out of the state more often as there are far, far worse and laughable places in the US). Long story short: city council meetings were held, supporters wore pig noses and in 1988, the sculptures made their proud debut.

And it's all been porkalicious since then, with local restaurants, shops and festivals embracing the flying pig with flying colors. In fact, you can find flying pig statues all throughout the city. I think my favorite one so far is the Shakespearean swine swooning outside of the Cincinnati Shakespeare Company in Downtown Cinci (And to my Shakespearean-obsessed professors: Yes, I will visit and write up a lavish report for your entertainment soon).

So, as sure as night and day, pigs do fly in Cincinnati.

And with that, Jas and I will learn to fly here, too.