Ramblings from a Washingtonian

A funny thing happened when we were trying to find lunch last month (December) in Las Vegas.

It was a beautiful, sunny, mid-70s day on The Strip and we decided to finally eat at an outdoor cafe at The Paris Hotel we had spied on a prior trip. It looked rather crowded, except for a collection of tables tucked around a corner in the shade.

We approached the hostess and requested a table outside. Just as she was starting to tell us it might be a bit of a wait for one in the sun, we corrected her and said, "No, we would love one we saw in the shade." She looked very confused so I clarified.

"We're from Washington state. All of this sun is overwhelming."

With a polite laugh that screamed "You people are all kinds of crazy!" she sat us at a table I'm sure she assumed would remain undesirable and unoccupied until the sun shifted.

Two minutes later, our waiter was laughing that same polite laugh as we asked if he might be able to turn off the portable heater that was making me sweat in my coveted, unpopulated shade.

Did I really spend nearly 30 years living in the sunshiny warm glow of the Golden State?? Good grief! Next thing you know, I'll be referring to my old stomping grounds as Frisco. I guess I really am much more Washingtonian, much less native Californian now. Go figure!

My unexpected shade seeking made me realize that a lot has changed in the ten years since we moved here. Well, more accurately, I have changed.

I started this blog mostly because I had some amusing fish-out-of-water stories about Rob and me trying to adapt to rural living amongst trees and septic systems.

My Bay Area friends shared my confusion and suspicion when I told stories of strangers in grocery stores here striking up conversations with me with apparently no agenda other than to be friendly like. And of course, my foray into canning and discovering...far too late...the existence and benefits of wide-mouthed canning jars resulted in my Death Peaches story and the suggestion I might find a forum for such missives.

And so I started blogging. Blogging about all the little ways life was so different here, how people and values and activities and weather and food and shopping and clothing were so NOT San Francisco. How odd it was not to have fences and to know my neighbors and to discover I needed to wear a bright orange vest on my walks
during this thing called "hunting season" just to be safe.

But somewhere along the line, I stopped noticing the differences. I stopped comparing everything to My Life Before. I stopped being from California.

Somewhere along the line, I started enjoying the rain. I started making chit chat with strangers. I started looking forwards instead of backwards. I started being from here.

Compared to ten years ago...

Instead of being energized by the excitement and motion of big cities, nowadays I get overwhelmed by all the noise and activity and sensory input. After just a few days...or even a few hours...I long to return to the quiet solitude of Woodhaven. Quiet used to bore me.

I am no longer up-to-date on the latest technology. Because I lived where a lot of stuff was invented and beta tested, I used to be very in-the-know if not actively consuming all the latest hi tech gadgetry and services. These days, I still have a flip phone, a landline, satellite TV, no tablet, no apps. And the 80-year-old woman in me sees no reason to change any of that because it is all working just fine and does everything I need to do, thankyouverymuch. Now get off my lawn.

I no longer get anxious when I hear gun shots or see smoke in the distance. Those used to mean gang activity and devastating wildfires. Now they mean hunters and burn piles.

We used to have a lawn mower powered by one long extension cord. We now have a tractor with a bagging attachment and a cup holder.

Our garden tools used to be limited to some clippers and a weed puller. Now we have machetes and orchard ladders and power washers and torches and weed whackers and safety goggles and wheelbarrows.

We used to be annoyed by the raccoons that visited our little suburban fish pond to wash their paws. Now we are delighted to see deer and coyotes and rabbits in our yard every day...delighted as long as they aren't eating our roses, grapes, or garden produce.

We used to have to go to national parks or zoos to see bears or cougars or bobcats. Now we see these visitors...or at least their droppings...on our property enough that it makes sense to be prepared just in case.

Guns used to scare me. Now many of my friends carry and I have acquainted myself with pistols and rifles. And, much to my surprise, I have discovered I am a pretty good shot. Not that I ever really want to put those skillz to use, but it's oddly comforting to know I have them if ever needed.

It used to be something of a big deal to go to The City (San Francisco) for a fun outing. Sadly, the traffic, the bridge tolls, the parking, and the psychological gymnastics of experiencing the homeless population were all barriers to more frequently embracing such a beautiful city. Now we go to Portland on a whim for dessert or food carts or any time we don't want to pay sales tax. No bridge tolls, plenty of cheap parking, predictable traffic, and a homeless population that isn't always distinguishable from the housed population.

I used to drive about 8,000 miles per year since most of my travel was done on a commuter train. Now I drive about 16,000 miles per year since I live down yonder from the nearest place to buy anything.

I used to have my choice of pizza joints that would deliver to my doorstep. Now we own a pizza delivery bag (purchased at a restaurant supply store) so our retrieved pizza will still be warm when we finally get it home. Similarly, I always keep a cooler in my trunk so I can keep frozen things cold if I am doing a "big shop" at my favorite grocery store a half-hour away.

I used to have tons of stores to buy clothes from. Now I can see a local woman wearing a shirt and have a good shot at telling you which of four stores she got it from...often because I am wearing the same thing.

I used to be stunned if I ever saw someone I knew while I was out running errands. Indeed, the familiar people I most often saw were people I recognized but didn't know from the train platform in the mornings. Here, I am stunned if I don't see someone I know when I am out running errands. In fact, I often have to build in extra time to allow for chit chat amongst the first-class mailing supplies or bananas.


Change is good. It means we are alive and living. So I am happy that what this blog started out to be has shifted over the eight years I have been writing it. I still ramble about my life in the rural hinterlands outside Portland, but it is more about observations and experiences and less about comparisons and adaptations. This is a good thing.

Now I am off to take a refreshing walk in the rain. Because I have rain gear, waterproof walking shoes, and if I wait for the rain to go away first, I'll be waiting until July.

Oh, and GO SEAHAWKS!!!