There is a problem with relying on the Last In First Out process to select the first KITCHEN boxes from my storage unit for my move to Oregon. I assumed that the boxes in front contained the essentials needed for a rudimentary beginning in my new apartment. So I ended up with a pasta wheel and no table knives. I have a shortbread mold, but no mixing bowls. And when my son and his girlfriend came to visit and wanted to make dinner, we realized there was no can opener in the three drawers filled with kitchen utensils. A minor problem, for sure, solved with a beer can opener, but I wanted my can opener. Opening those boxes was like peering into a time capsule. What did that previous person think was important for her future?

There are many factors in deciding where to live when the world opens up without issues like a job offer or a spouse. In theory, this seems like an ideal situation. Yet, having too many choices and a mind content to weigh every possibility marred my thinking. My list of where I would not live grew and my list of preferred places changed daily. I realized that two things hampered my decision. First, I had to allow myself to make a mistake. If it doesn’t work here, I’ll move on. The second, and most stalling problem, was the storage unit in Utah. How I would move my possessions stymied my decision. It is expensive to move furniture and it is expensive and silly to keep up a storage unit. It is time to Feng Shui my life, because my stuff is in the way. There aren’t many things I want from my old life. Much of it makes me sad and keeps me from beginning again. Anything of emotional value to me will fit in my car. Living out of a suitcase for a year prepared me for this moment of downsizing. The year of traveling also prepared me for making the intuitive decision to settle on the coast with the Columbia River in my backyard and the ocean beaches just down the road on Highway 101.

My backyard is where the California sea lions come to do whatever sea lions do for a few months of the year. Hundreds of them. Sometimes around 1600 plus. Their barking is constant and much louder than the highway noise near my apartment building. Every night I go to sleep to the roar of sea lions and I love it. I guess it’s my version of katydids or crickets on a summer night. Sea lions are new to me. Anything maritime, from the Coast Guard base nearby to the weird array of beards I encounter daily, is exotic and as foreign to me as anywhere I visited in Europe. The cable guy told me he used to be a rougher. What exactly is a rougher? I now live in an earthquake zone, but also a known tsunami area. Salt Lake City, Utah has an annual rainfall of 13 inches a year. Rain comes down in feet here. Sometimes it can rain for a month straight. This is Lewis and Clark territory. It will take years for me to learn the history of the area. I don’t have to calculate sales tax anymore. I’m going to have to exchange my snow boots for rain boots and my winter coat for a good rain slicker. Luckily sweaters have always been a summer staple for me, so no problems there!

Every walk I take introduces me to something worth studying. But how long before it becomes mundane? Will I cease shopping local and head for Portland every week to visit Whole Foods or Powell’s Books? At what point will I begin to complain about the ten thousand summer tourists and the congestion on the highways? How long will it take for me to wake up one morning and say, “I wish those (fill in expletive here) sea lions would shut up!”?

How long before I look at my new can opener and decide it is too worn or useless to keep anymore?