After barking threats and disparaging remarks into the company’s owner’s voicemail, I can happily report that, indeed, we’ve been reimbursed for the cost of our Beetle’s key. We will, however, never do business with those folks again. Onward and upward.
…

Carey and I are always quick to point out to others that we live about 3 blocks away from the beach. “Walking distance,” we say. Well, that’s jim-dandy, but it doesn’t mean a thing unless we take it upon ourselves to actually walk to the beach. So, a couple of nights ago, we did.

I cannot be bothered to lie: Long Beach is far from the most beautiful beach one could hope for. It has an odd smell and it’s far from litter-free. Breakers inhibit the waves that would otherwise thunder into the sand, as they do on other nearby beaches. City lights and heavy industry obscure what would otherwise be a glorious sea sky at night.

But, man, it’s still the beach. And it’s still beautiful.

We’re, at this point, more nervous than ever about our decision about moving out here. The harder we look for steady work, the more elusive that goal becomes. The competition is crazy-fierce. But for one hour at the beach, under the stars, sitting in the sand, watching the brine, listening to the sloosh of the tide… we had to wonder why we’d ever questioned our desire to make a go of the west coast.

It’s not home yet… not really. And we don’t really belong. But, we like it. And it’ll feel like home soon enough.