thangs is strange in the PG

- Mexican food. Eating at the bar to avoid the 45-minute wait for a table. Nearing the end of our small basket of chips (these people may not have queso, but their guacamole is the tits), when the guy sitting next to us pushes over his basket. Says he’s done with them. Oh. Thanks? Stranger chips. He could have sprinkled poison on them, or rubbed his hands on them after a bathroom trip that didn’t include the sink. But he was being so nice about it, so eager to share even though we hadn’t reach chip crisis mode yet. We ate that dude’s chips. And didn’t die.

- Gas. Last time I filled up was March 11, and I still have about 3/4 of a tank. And it’s not because I’ve been holed up in the house. We’ve gone somewhere almost every day…ON OUR FEET. Yeah, son, we’ve walked to dinner, drinks, the water, the water, the water.

- Security. My mild OCD manifests itself in mostly two ways. I obsess about whether my car’s parking brake is on, and I check to make sure doors are locked. Sometimes having to get out of a warm, comfy bed to go around and check the doors again. Not since we moved here. We came home the other night to find we’d unintentionally left the windows open. That’s something that would NEVER happen in Houston. I don’t think we moved to Mayberry, and this wasn’t a conscious change on my part, but I welcome the freedom.

- Entertainment. We’re going to “The 57th Annual Good Old Days Celebration” tomorrow in downtown Pacific Grove. It’s your typical small town fair, except the featured musical act both days is Moonalice. A band featuring former members of Jefferson Airplane, Bruce Hornsby and various Grateful Dead offshoots (Jerry Garcia Band, Phil Lesh & Friends). They live-stream their shows here and are playing at 1PM Pacific tomorrow. You’ll see James and me hanging out near the funnel cakes.

- Proximity. The houses in PG are generally very small (under 1,000 square feet), and the lots usually provide just a sliver of green on all four sides. James and I were standing in front of our house the morning our trailer full of stuff was to arrive, talking (not loudly) (it was just after 7AM) about where the trailer should park when not one but two neighbors came out. One silently moved her car, and the other (in his robe and slippers) asked if he needed to move his. This was our first indication that I need to not run my mouth like usual. The hills have ears.

- Amity Island. James is convinced we’re living in a version of the place where JAWS was set. And that it’s still the ’70s here. We haven’t been able to put our finger on it quite yet, but there’s something…everyone is so friendly and nice and eager to share their chips…I don’t trust them.

- Actually, that’s bullshit. I think there nice people in the world, and they’re easier to run into when you live in a town of 15,000. And it’s hard to be unhappy when surrounded by so much beauty and so many opportunities to experience it. We walked through a forest this morning, had a picnic lunch and then hiked to a cliff over the Pacific, all within about a 10-mile radius. I feel free. Free enough to be a middle-aged woman wearing braids and a v-neck t-shirt.

this is where I'm at these days

I suppressed the shit-eating grin for the sake of my homies but trust me, it’s there

PS: We saw an otter today.

15 thoughts on “thangs is strange in the PG

  1. That ain’t mild OCD, sweetie, that’s the shit. The real shit. Good. I’m glad you have a mental disease. Not only does it mean you will fit in that much better in California but also because YOU”RE KILLING ME! Aargh! STOP!!

    Go club a baby seal, for chrissakes. I need a shot of insulin just to read your posts. Any more happiness out of you and I’ll club my ownself, I swear to god. Did I say aargh?!

    AARGH!!

    You obviously are not writing. Yer too happy.

    peace out, yer pal,

    rum dum tin

    • Get yer club ready because this shit isn’t stopping. I know some of you prefer angry/sad Crystal, but she’s not home right now.

      I’ve written more in the four weeks (as of today) that we’ve been here than I did the last two years in Houston. My energy flows a lot better when I’m not a series of knots and frustration. I highly recommend it.

      And I’m not going to club a baby seal, but I could go hug one BECAUSE THEY ARE ON THE BEACH AT THE END OF MY STREET! I live in a place where baby. fucking. seals. are chilling just a couple of minutes from my house. That’s awesome!

  2. I don’t prefer angry/sad Crystal and I sure as hell don’t miss her. I’m sincerely glad that you’re blissed out and happy right now, but I’m also hoping that sarcastic/smartass/pithy Crystal sticks her head up from time-to-time. You know, between all the baby seal hugging and forest walking and chip sharing and all. BTW, you didn’t have to move to Cali to walk places, I do that all the time, right here in Houston, as well as ride my bike.

    • *I* had to move to California to walk and ride my bike. Wasn’t interested in doing either in Houston, want to do both all the time here. Glad that’s not the case for you and plenty of other people.

      Okay, back to giving this baby seal a bath and wrapping it in a towel like a burrito.

  3. OK, then, sister woman. You win. Remind me to tell ya about the time I loaded six semi trucks of asparagus in that town on the curve…and really, I am so happy for ya that I can’t see straight. Mas pax

  4. Ha! I’m drawing the line at chip sharing. Anytime you see an otter it is a good day because they just might be the happiest animals on the planet. Maybe happier than happy Crystal!!

    Having wildlife in a day makes me always feel better. I would really miss it if I was required to live somewhere where you could not enjoy sharing with wild animals.

    I am enjoying your take on your new life going on!

Comments are closed.