Choices, Choices, Choices…

I have always done my best, and most creative, thinking (and writing) when I spend time outside. It doesn’t matter if I’m hiking, walking, shoveling snow, or just hanging out. There’s something about the out-of-doors that feeds my soul. Many people, including my kids and close friends, have been offering not-so-gentle hints for years about moving.

“But it won’t be safe to live there as you get older.”

“What if you need medical attention? There’s not much there.”

“How can you manage with so little shopping in what passes for a town?”

The list is long. I could fill a page with all the reasons offered for moving. While I agree that there are disadvantages to living remotely, the advantages are numerous. Good friends. Solid neighbors who pitch in and help (just like I do). Clean air. Virtually zero crime. No homeless population (too cold six months of the year). We do have a rural hospital district where I’m on a first name basis with many of the MDs. Handy to simply shoot my PCP an email for a quick Rx or solution to some problem.

After 25 years, I know a lot of folk in this village that boasts a year-round population of around 8,000. Contrast that with other more urban environments where I have barely been on a “say hello” basis to my neighbors despite living right next door for a decade.

Against that backdrop, and with a great deal of reluctance, I am once again sort of house hunting. And I have so many questions.

1. Should I wait until we’re solidly in a recession and prices come down, probably by a good big bunch?
2. Should we stay in California? I can transfer my property tax base amount from this house to another, but homeowners’ insurance is another issue entirely. All the big insurers stopped writing new policies in California a few years back. Despite having 37 claim-free years with Costco, they will not write me a new policy if I move. Hell, I’ve sort of been expecting them to cancel me anyway. It’s happened to so many people I know who live here. To sign up with the California Fair Plan (only game in town, literally) and take out a second policy to cover what’s inside the house, would cost me literally seven times what I pay currently each year. That’s a lot.
3. There is a move afoot called Calexit. If California actually secedes from the Union (a total longshot), I wonder what impact that will have on, well, everything.

We are living in unsettled times. I’ve always been a risk taker, but all the bits and pieces that go along with packing up and moving seem overwhelming. The wolfdog (more on him next post) needs space. He is very social. When he slips out the door, he immediately heads for the neighbor’s place, runs up the steps, and puts his paws on the door to be let in. He is smart and savvy enough to have developed his own spate of relationships. I have trained him to love people, not the easiest task given what a skittish puppy he was. Since the Eastern Sierra has hundreds of miles of deserted Jeep roads for dog walking, I’d have to fence in at least half an acre for him to run. He’s five, so in the prime of his little lupine life.

I’m sure my ambivalence is bleeding through. This is one situation where the “right” choice feels murky. Usually, when I’ve been in that situation, I put things on hold until a path appears clearer. This time, I’m not sure that’s possible. I’d like to get us out of the snow before next winter, which means starting now to hunt and plan.

One thing is certain. I will never match the unparalleled natural beauty in Mammoth Lakes, or the proximity to pristine lakes, soaring peaks, and chittering streams. There will be tradeoffs, though. No shoveling, for one. No ice, for another. Hubby’s fractured scapula was a wakeup call.

Stay tuned. I’ll put together another post once I’ve come to grips with my ambivalence and chosen a path. The photo is for context. It’s from the lakes basin about five minutes from town.