coastal living

I was just having a conversation on Facebook with a friend from Boise, someone I went to high school with. We were talking about the importance of finding like-minded people, no matter where you live. I mentioned our time on the Oregon coast, to which he replied "I would love to live on the Oregon coast. What is the name of the town you lived in, and how may I apply to live there?"

Here is my response:


We lived in Pacific City for 10 years. Charming little drinking village with a fishing problem.

It's easy to live there! Here's how:

*Be independently wealthy, via lottery, trust fund or retirement (or of course you could be a dot.commer who got out in time) and therefore have no need to make a living.
*Work in the service industry which means a) you sell your soul to the devil (ie tourists) and b) you will be so busy that you won't have the time or energy to enjoy that "quality of life" you moved there to enjoy. Might as well sell that surf-board, kayak and camping gear. You won't be using that stuff anymore!
*Oh! And let's not forget: DEVELOPER, which, of course, means you must be independently wealthy AND sell your soul to the devil, but hey, some body's got to get rich building cheesy "beach" houses all over every hillside. Might as well be you, right?

We owned an organic-espresso shop/bookstore overlooking the Pacific, so all the intellectual liberals (all 3 of them!) gathered at our place for coffee and conversation.

If I sound bitter, well, 154 inches of rain annually will do that to a person. When people ask me if I miss it, I burst into hysterical, uncontrollable laughter.

I know, I know, there are people who manage to live and thrive on the coast (Hi Bob! Hi Rod! Hi Greg!) but it takes a special breed of person. A resilient person. A resourceful person. A mentally unstable person. Much like people who can live in Alaska.

Today, as I sit under the eves of our sweet charming house, looking out the skylights at the towering 140 year old Ponderosa pines, the sun is shining, it's in the mid-seventies and you can feel autumn in the air.

I miss my old coastal friends, but they come visit; they come here to dry out and warm up and they marvel at how warm and lovely it is at 10 o'clock at night as we dine outside. They always leave fantasizing about moving here. The grass IS always greener, I guess. Me? I'm perfectly, blissfully happy on THIS side of the fence.