Almost There....

THAT, is Catalina Island. It's off the coast of California. It looks way to lush and exotic to be American, no?

I have never been to Catalina Island. I have never been to California. I have never even been west of New Jersey, because my parents didn't really love me and take me on decadent trips to far-off lands as a child. Plus I had a kid when I was eighteen, which totally throws off your traveling groove.

So how did I remedy such a sad, sheltered existence and break free of the East Coast for a vacation? Easy. I suckered a native California boy into loving me and wanting to take me out to visit his home. No roaming gnomes involved.

Seriously, I am beyond excited for this trip. Truth be told, it's not just a vacation, but also kind of a prospecting thing too. I am tired of winter. I never, EVER imagined living in Maine this long. It seemed like one thing after another has come up keeping me here longer and longer and now I am finally ready to leave. So while we're in California, we'll be checking out schools, nearby hospitals for work and different neighborhoods and hoping to find one that we can call home. In a couple of months we'll be taking the boys out there to show them around. As long as they equate moving to California with Legoland, resistance to the move should be minimal.

It's funny when you talk to people about moving across the country. You're met with either extreme pessimism or total enthusiasm, (the enthusiasm gets me all paranoid that the person I'm talking to is psyched to get rid of me, sometimes they go a little overboard). But there never really seems to be a lukewarm reaction when it's brought up, and that's more what I'm hoping for. I'm thinking I'm going to just stop talking to people about it all together and let my sudden absence be a total surprise to everyone. Including my boss.

No. Maybe.

Regardless of who knows and who doesn't, I'm excited. My insurance doesn't really cover psychiatric inpatient hospitalization, and that's where I'm headed if I'm forced to resolve myself to another winter in this Godforsaken tundra where only very, very bad people should have to live state. The grass may not be greener in California, but at least you can see it 12 months out of the year.

We're kind of winging it as far as trip plans, but Catalina Island, Santa Monica Pier and sea kayaking in La Jolla (pronounced "LaHOYa", guess which idiot has been pronouncing incorrectly since Hollister started selling La Jolla body spray?) are all on the agenda. And Coronado Island, because up until 20 minutes ago Mr California himself thought it was a restricted military area and it warrants a trip just for that reason alone.

Unfortunately, Mr California is smarter than me, by a long shot, and I have to really give him a hard time when he's wrong about something, like Coronado Island. He makes a mistake as often as the eclipse rolls around, it's remarkable. And unfair. Do you ever find yourself Googling a topic furiously to try to prove someone wrong because you KNOW you have got to be right? Hoping and praying that out of the thousands of hits, one schmuck will see things your way and blog about it or something?

.....me neither. Never ever.