We moved.

And why I didn’t tell anyone. (Monday Musings #3)

In the age of social media and my adult life, we have moved eight times. Each time, I’ve spread the word. I’ve built it up, shared why, and both the excitement and the fear. 

This past weekend we moved to Paso Robles, about 40 minutes from where we lived in San Simeon, away from the ocean. 

And I didn’t tell anyone on social media. 

In truth, I wanted to avoid the comments.

I did tell a few strangers. The people who ask you where you are from when you are out wine tasting and those who ask you if you are local while on a photo shoot. 

It was clear right away that I didn’t want to navigate the things people had to say. 

“You have to like the heat if you live over there.” 

Thanks, I don’t actually. I hate summer. And I probably won’t be spending many of them in their entirety in Paso. Getting away from heat is part of the reason we moved from the Central Valley. But it’s also different in wine country. Temperatures do drop in the evenings, much to the delight of grapes. And you might catch a random, nearly cold night, in August, like the night we were nearly shivering at an outdoor winery concert a few years ago. Winter hats were appropriate. 

Despite being summer’s biggest enemy, I miss seasons. The longer we were in San Simeon, the more distinctly I felt the minimal change of seasons. As a few years passed living there, I started to feel the monotony and lack of seasonal change. It was really starting to feel the same year-round. 

I love that it feels practically cold on the coast in June when everyone else has temperatures creeping up to sweat-inducing levels, but I also started to miss the cold of winter. Something that I grew up with, that we had in Visalia, and that we will have again in Paso, even if it’s shorter and not at all white.

“Oh, it’s so nice over on the coast.”

Yes, I know. That’s why we lived there. Living condo life was worth it to be closer to the ocean…for a while. Until it wasn’t. 

The truth is we’ve contemplated what’s next for months now. Do we stay here? Do we make a lateral move in terms of size back to the Bay Area? Is our time in California over and should we move to the PNW? 

This kind of thinking never stops for me. The one and only thing I want out of this life is experiences; to know more than one bubble in this world. That keeps us moving. 

When we finally decided we wanted to stay in SLO county, it was time to accept the fact that we wanted more space and we had to face the not-so-good that living at the coast had created along with all the good. 

I miss my hobbies so much. Not just gardening, but digital hobbies, too. 

Hiking and beach walking are great hobbies, but the situation we were living in was making us both nearly too exhausted to do that in our free time. 

”You won’t know what you need until you rent one.”

I consulted a fellow photographer when renting my studio in Cambria nearly three years ago. I asked if he had tips for what to look for or what to avoid. He told me you don’t know what you need until you rent one and find out. 

He was right. 

But what I found out is that I don’t need a studio at all. 

I rented it out of necessity. The condo couldn’t hold everything, even after downsizing my work supplies. My computer setup was next to the chair, next to the TV, in our small living room. I thought I couldn’t get away from my work with this situation, but little did I know using the studio would make that even worse. 

The first year was glorious. I had all this space, new light. I unloaded all the props and boards I had put in storage when we moved from Visalia. I created photos like these. 

Then I started getting more recipe work that required cooking in the condo. It all slowly evolved into doubling my workload. Packing and unpacking food when I took it to the studio, and props that I brought back to the condo because the food would die if I transported it, began adding hours to my work days.

My editing was all at the studio now and I felt like I could never get done what I needed to there. So I came home and worked more.

I could routinely be found writing on the laptop or getting ahead for the next day when Dan was traveling (mostly all the time) well beyond 8 pm, after I’d already started my workday at 7 am. 

In the past, before our move to the condo, this time may have been spent at the computer, but it was spent on hobbies - editing my creative work, creating print projects with digital assets, painting boards, creating photo books. 

With all my digital-related stuff at the studio, to partake in my hobbies, I’d have to stay over there until late into the evening. 

Or I could be home at the condo and just work on projects for clients. So that’s what I did.

I’ve been grieving the move from the coast. I also know it was the right decision. 

I stopped talking about it because of all the comments. We didn’t move because I had to or wanted to get away from something. We just needed things we couldn’t get there… 

Space and a yard for a 70-pound bulldog that still has some puppy left in her, a situation that will help me work less, a shorter commute for Dan, a kitchen window…

 
I will desperately miss walking out my door and photographing a zebra or walking another mile and photographing harbor seals. 

“The coast will always be there.” 

There’s only been one person who helped ease my nerves about this decision. At a holiday party, I told some friends our plans. I was asked if we would keep the condo and I admitted that no, we wouldn’t because to get the size of house that made the move worth making, we needed to sell it.

I’m sure the expression on my face as I said it indicated the feelings of loss and disappointment I felt. 

A friend shrugged his shoulders and said, “The coast will always be there. It’s only 30 minutes away.” 

He’s right. The extent of loss I feel really isn’t justified. It’s in my head. 

We spend many of our weekends going to places all over this county and we’ll continue to do the same. My zebra, elephant seal, harbor seal, and otter photos aren’t going anywhere. Neither are my hikes. 

Now I just have to drive a little further to do them. Meanwhile, I’ve gained a place for all the hobbies I want to tackle again, a yard for any type of garden I can dream up, a home in one of the best wine regions in the world, and space for a big bulldog to zoomie to her heart’s content. 

To be continued…