Author: jeanniebruenning

We had been in our new home about three weeks before we began to venture out. Less than a half of a mile in front of our home lies the Pacific Ocean. Less than three miles behind our home are the vineyards and they are beautiful. Most of them have a tasting room that for a small fee you are allowed to sample 5 to 10 different wines produced from that specific vineyard.

I was will very uneasy and struggling with panic attaches so when Jeff suggested that we check out a few vineyards on Saturday afternoon I was hesitant but knew that unless I was planning of never leaving my house I would have to force my self to do so.

Saturday afternoon arrived. Jeff had planned out where we were going. It appeared on the map that we had some driving to do. Mountains, foot hills, winding two lanes roads are never very clear on a map. To our delight we were less than 10 minutes from the first tasting room. Edna Valley. The view was breathtaking. Edna Valley’s tasting room is positioned so you are looking out over miles of vineyard surrounded by rolling mountains. Wine does not settle with me very well, so Jeff was on his own when it came to the tasting. We talked to the host and interacted with a few of the other guests. We looked at each other several times and said, “We live here.”

We made our way to the car and headed to the next winery. A short two miles up the road and we were there. The tasting room are staffed with several hosts that walk you through each tasting, give you history of the vineyard and answer any questions you have.

When asked if we were visiting, Jeff informed them that we had just moved from Chicago. Ironically the owner of this winery was also from Chicago and just happened to be walking through. We were introduced and chatted a bit about the Big City.

Jeff tasted the wines on the list. He must have shown a bit more enthusiasm then most because our host kept bringing out bottle of some of their finest wines. Seventy, Eighty dollar varieties for Jeff to try. He enjoyed each one and shared with me their flavor profiles.

As we walked out of the tasting room I held my hand out for the car keys. He may had been only tasting today, but between the two wineries I figured he had consumed a bit too much to be safe. Jeff freely handed me the keys. His expression was priceless, pure contentment. “I’m in heaven.” he said “and we live here.”

 

My total experience of being on the west coast consist of 3 days 28 years ago. My time on the coast has been primarily the Gulf off the Florida coast. I had expected warm sand, warm days, blue skies and beautiful sunsets. August in Pismo Beach was not what I had anticipated. There is this thing call the Marine Layer. The Marine Layer is a thick blanket of fog that moves inland when the temperatures in the valley (east of us) exceed 100 degrees. This happens almost the entire month of August. Unlike of typical fog which burns off, the Marine Layer does not burn, it moves and it moves very slowly.

Because of this layer, the temperature in Pismo during August remains in the low sixties. Not at all my expectations of a beach town in August.

The first weekend as we sat in the living room watching a movie I glanced out the window, the Marine Layer was rolling in. We could no longer see past the fronts of the houses across the street. As we looked up the block we could see the fog rolling in, it was a bit freaky. It was moving in and engulfing everything around it. Every day was the same. If it was clear early, it would not last long. Some days it looked like fog other days it was so thick causing the sky to be so dark it looked as if a thunderstorm was moving in. By the end of August the Marine Layer would move farther and farther off shore. As September approached the days became more and more clear. There was landscapes, shore lines and mountain ranges that we had not been able to see. After four weeks of living in the foggy, gloomy, cool beach town, September opened up and we discovered new views and sunsets…all from our new front porch.

 

We settled into our hotel room in Pismo Beach. Pismo Beach is a classic beach town. Population 8,000 of which 40% are vacation homes and those people are not there year round. During the summer and on weekends the town is hopping with surfers and people from the valley coming to the coast to find relief from heat.

That first night after we walked along the beach and watched the sun set, I started the search for rental properties. During the hour or so that I was on line a rental popped up on Craig’s list that looked interesting. I made contact and we set up a showing. We had several showing scheduled by noon the next day. Jeff and I were not looking for much. We had just moved out of a 900 square foot condo, space was not an issue to us. We did have a dog and there was not an abundance of placed that allowed four legged animals.

As we began to walk through places we decided that living for a year on the beach was exciting enough, we could settle with very little to know that the beach was just down the block. The third place we looked at was the one that had popped up on Craig’s List the first night we were here.

When we pulled up to the house it appeared to be full of people. We assumed two were the owners and the rest were people looking at the unit. As we walked through the unit we were trilled. Everything that we could have hoped for; a fire place, a yard, washer and dryer, water softer and the front porch just happed to have a view of the ocean. Shortly after we had seen the entire place the owner excused himself and met the next couple who had arrived to see the place.
I would never consider Jeff and I aggressive individuals. But that afternoon we were stacking our claim. With checkbook in hand, Jeff offered to write a check right there for the deposit and first months rent. Signed sealed and delivered, we had a place to live and it was far above anything we had anticipated having. We were not sure how long this adventure would last, but for the first year we were going to live in Pismo Beach, CA…the very place that Bugs Bunny vacations!

We did have a deadline for our arrival in California. The townhouse we were planning on purchasing was scheduled to close the day after we arrived. There had been some bumps along the road with the financing of this unit. Resolutions were always found but it wasn’t a smooth process. The route we chose to get us to the central coast brought us down from the north in order to drive pass the condo we were planning on moving into. As we drove into the area I began to feel very ill. I had been fighting panic attaches the entire trip and assumed the feeling in my stomach was because of those. But as we drove through the complex, I became more and more uncomfortable.

We had purchased the final unit, construction had ended. This unit was located at the end of all the construction. All around the area were empty lots with plumbing pipes sticking up out of the ground. Large electrical boxes dotted the empty lots. All of this looked very normal for an area with new construction. The problem was there was no more new construction. What would happen to these empty lots? Who was going to be responsible for their up keep? In a year would this undeveloped area be overgrown? What would happen to market values of the units?

We had not sold our condo in Chicago and market values there had already dropped. We did not want to be the proud owners of two condos worth less than what we had invested in them. It did not take much discussion. Jeff picked up his phone, made a call and informed them that we would be unable to go through with the closing. We were both relieved. The next few days would have one priority, find a place to rent ’cause our stuff was leaving the dock in Chicago and would be here in a week.

 

Jeff and I had planned a 4 day drive from Chicago to San Luis Obispo, CA. Traveling with a dog, we figured we would do well to drive 8 – 10 hours a day. Neither of us had ever traveled such a distance with an animal, so finding and staying in pet friendly hotels was a new experience. Our stops were not only dictated by length of time we wanted to be driving but also by the availability of a ‘doggy hotel’.

Our first stop was Lincoln Nebraska. This hotel was not only pet friendly but seemed to be very children friendly. With the amount of laughters, screams and fighting going on in the lobby by what seemed to be an army of young children all my fears of Ellie barking or making any sounds in the room were eliminated.

Our second night allowed us the chance to be in the Denver area and spend the evening with Austyn and Brian. They were loading up the Jeep in preparation for their own excursion to Alaska. A few visits to local breweries that had outdoor seating to accommodate Ellie and we all very happy.

Our third night took us to St George, Utah. We arrived in the middle of the afternoon with temperatures over 100 degrees. We actually had to figure out how to get the dog from the car to the building without burning her paws.

Ellie was intended to be Austyn’s dog. After our family dog of 14 years passed we quickly replaced Fergie with Ellie. When Ellie was less than a year old she became very ill. After tests it was decided that the corn starch based bones we had been giving her had basically glued themselves together and created a large ball in her stomach. Surgery would be the only option. On the day of decision, Jeff was on his own to make the call. I had prepared Austyn for the possible outcome and had anticipated that Jeff would have her put down. To our surprise he did not. Surgery and weeks to recover, she has been with us for 5 years. When we are all sick of her, she becomes Jeff’s dog because he saved her life. Why she isn’t Austyn’s dog? Well, Brian happens to be allergic to her. I personally think it’s psychosomatic.

The trip was beautiful and if I had done my homework we would have actually built in time to take in some sights. As it was we saw beauty every day. We will make the trip from Denver to California again some day…without a dog.

 

Over the past few months we have had glimpses into the minds of Pam’s three children. Brief phone conversation, story’s relayed to us by Raun and the few face to face interactions we have been lucky enough to participate in.

Chase, who was two at the time loves chicken. As they were praying before the meal, Chase’s prayer was simple and to the point: “Thank Jesus for Chicken!”. Oh if we could all be that grateful for the everyday things in life.