Why San Diego is Better than Alexandria (and vice versa)

As many of our friends and family know, we have been tossing around the idea of eventually moving to San Diego to live full-time, making occasional forays to the east coast: essentially reversing our polarities, so to speak. It's not an easy decision, despite our occasional certainties, which generally occur in the middle of the sauna that passes for a Virginia summer--or in mid- deep freeze, when we are inundated with the third major snowfall of the season. At those times, only total idiots would swear allegiance to the East.

For years, any move was forestalled by aging parents or existing jobs or other long-standing obligations. Either or both of us were embroiled in organizations or activities that we could not easily back out of. But now..retirement has freed us. Responsibilities are less immediate, and we have gradually disentangled ourselves from organizational hog-tying. Even the real estate market has calmed a bit. So, now what?

San Diego is a great place to live. The climate is outstanding, the current drought notwithstanding. With some exceptions, the temperatures are pleasant and the humidity negligible all year round. There is no snow. No more last-minute changes of plan due to weather emergencies. It's a beautiful place. Flowers, trees, the ocean and beaches are scenic wonders. Even our yard there is pretty scenic with its bougainvillea and its fountain. We have friends there; we like the library; we like the restaurants. We know our way around. It is--in its own way--home.

But, on the other coast (the other hand), Alexandria is home, too. There is no place prettier in the spring or fall, and the more unpleasant seasons are the price we pay. Watching the world come to life each spring is the reward for all that snow-shoveling. And never being here for the Scottish Walk? Inconceivable!

And there are all sorts of other things to do: theater (okay, SD has that too); proximity to NY (and no, Los Angeles is not in the same league); our docent standing at the Folger Shakespeare Library where we can each do a stand-up tour of any sort at the drop of a hat; our church (where we have friends who are family and more); actual family and non-church friends in fairly close proximity for all the holiday gatherings...Well, let's just say that Alexandria has its charms. While we can build new personae in SD, we are already established here.

And so we have made our home on the horns of this particular dilemma--temporarily. We have considered remaining bi-coastal, only with the emphasis on  the west: moving to that end and selling our current house here and establishing a pied-à-terre in Alexandria for extended visits in the spring or fall or holiday season. That would have us engaging in an extended course of fence-sitting, but there are worse fates. We could also throw up our hands, become California residents, and stay in hotels for any extended visits east. We could invest in prominent welcome mats for our eastern friends, to be installed  at all entrances of the California abode:

“Give me your tired, your poor, 
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, 
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. 
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me: 
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”

But no, I think that's been used already...

Dredging

I have finally come to terms with the fact that I will never complete all the projects I have materials for, read all the books on my Kindle or my shelves, or have a 'someday' when all the things I've saved will miraculously find a use. I have finally begun to see how crowded our bookshelves are, and how many chairs we have, and how few we actually need. Thank God we don't save newspapers and National Geographics, or we would probably be like those people you see on the evening news that have heart attacks and EMTs can't get to them because the paths between the stacks are too narrow. But I digress.

I am currently dredging the bottom layer of muck from each of the 3rd floor bedrooms, and am hoping to see floor by tomorrow evening. We have dumped three boxes of stuff at UpCycle*, rented a small storage space and bought shelves for same, and have been sorting through books, with an eye to which ones we could either do without entirely, or live without having them in our immediate vicinity. I see a visit to a Salvation Army or Goodwill shop in my future. I have several boxes and bags (anyone need a picture frame or 6?) ready to go.

The purported reason behind this is that our daughter and her family will be coming to stay a few days here--between Scotland and Tucson, just to reset their internal clocks from Dundee time to Eastern Daylight. They need places to sleep, preferably not covered with piles of books or linens or clothes ready to be discarded. The REAL reason for the clean-up, however, is that we simply need to pare things down. The time has come. The time is now.

Why is it so hard to get rid of things? I think I am genetically programmed to acquire, to collect, to save almost everything. There's an innate thriftiness that says I can't just GIVE AWAY something that I spent good money for, or something that might be worth something. And so I find myself looking for people and places who can use what I can't: the golf clubs that haven't breathed the air of a course in 10 years, the shoes that have sat on shelves in two different houses,  books that I want to read 'someday'...

The hope and consolation on the horizon that has spurred me into the world of discard has been the recent popularity of a little book by a Japanese lady that (in spite of her ridiculous admonitions to talk to your socks) has a saving grace. Her advice is to look at something and acknowledge how it gave you pleasure (or SOMETHING), say a brief 'thank you', and let it GO. Which makes sense. If the only purpose of that pair of shoes was to lift your spirits by the act of buying them...well, so be it. They served a purpose; they can be given away without guilt.

So, I am shouting huge 'thank you's to all my stuff--to the jackets I will never wear again, to the unread books, to the fabric and paper and pens and paints, to the great ideas I never realized, to the supplies I never used...thank you all for the anticipatory happiness you brought, and for the hope that I might, one day, have time to do creative things. And now....goodbye.

* UpCycle is a creative reuse center--sort of a combo of consignment shop/art store that carries all sorts of project 'fixings'. If you like to piddle around with stuff and make things, if Michael's is what I would call 'an occasion of sin' for you, you would love this place. And probably have stuff you could donate. Located at 1712 Mt. Vernon Ave. in Del Ray. Gray building, white trim. Enter on the side.