Well, we did it.
We put an offer on a house out of this state; had a couple of go-rounds with the seller; came to a mutually acceptable price; and . . . we're packing our stuff. We should be out of California in a few weeks, probably well before Thanksgiving.
I was not born in California, and I spent decades out of the state. Despite that, I always considered California my home. I went to school there all the way through graduation from UCLA, once a great university with some fabulous professors. I loved the place, and its colorful history. It seemed anything was possible.
I remember coming to California one Christmas from grad school in Massachusetts, and literally spending the morning in the snow up in the mountains, and the afternoon on the beach. I loved the desert and the coastline; scuba diving off Catalina island; racing up and down the Pacific Coast Highway. For much of my time in California, this place was where
IT was happening, almost regardless of what
IT was. Technology, medicine, literature, movies, TV, theater, cars, fashion, economy, etc, California set the pace for the country and the world. I have been no place on earth, even the most remote, where people have not heard about California.
In the last few years, however, this place has gone nuts, and not in the eccentric, creative sort of way that produced, say, Hollywood, Apple, or Uber, but in a bizarre, self-destructive one that seeks to undermine all about California that made California into California: The ever rising taxes; government regulations; the absurd political correctness and its ugly traveling companion, to wit, social and political insanity on things such as guns, immigration, and the environment.
Reality has been banned here; I have a feeling, nevertheless, that it will make a reappearance with a vengeance. I don't want to be around these parts when that happens.
So, we're moving. Our house is full of boxes and bins. The dogs are sensing change, and acting nervous and suspicious. My back hurts from moving stuff around. Yes, we're moving.
We looked at a lot of places, and fortunately this country still has a lot of nice places with very good and welcoming people. In the end, however, we had to pick one and we decided on (
drum roll)
North Carolina!
My non-meat-eating wife discovered pulled pork there: watching her pass up the salad and go for the pulled pork was a sight to see. The BBQ was great; the people were super; the prices are reasonable (gasoline is almost a dollar a gallon cheaper than here in SoCal); folks love the second amendment; the taxes are OK, although property tax is a bit on the high side; and it's a very beautiful place with a colorful history of its own and lots and lots of places to visit and enjoy. It is getting many folks coming in from around the world, and I hope that doesn't destroy the feeling of the place. Anyhow, we've scored a very nice house on a large wooded lot, one without irksome neighbors breathing down my neck. It's a bit dark and remote, but at night you can see these things in the sky, which I believe the locals call "stars." I am going to have to investigate those . . . odd little things that they are . . . We're moving.