Yeah, actually.

I went for a walk along the beach with Debbie today and it invoked an epiphany. I love my epiphanies, especially the good ones. And here's what it comes down to...

I didn't think I was ready to move back to San Diego because I feel if I do it will be for good. I'll buy a house or condo and spend the rest of my life hanging out with my friends, surfing year round (especially in the winter when I have more free time) and permanently joining a masters swim team. And maybe, just maybe, I'll find a guy who won't mind hanging out with me and having something sort of resembling a healthy relationship- but that's not as important as the fore mentioned items. I didn't feel I was ready for all that because it means I'm settling down, and who wants that? Am I getting old? I feel like I'm too young to be settling down. And by settling down, I'm not talking about with a guy. Let's just get that straight. I mean finding a place where I could live out the majority of what's left of my life, except for when I retire and I plan on moving to Mexico or Florida or some other exotic place like that, start smoking cigars, playing poker and dating men younger than 30. But that's still years down the road.

But then I started thinking about what I want out of life and what I'm getting out of it now.

By the way, maybe this epiphany really came from the coffee shop by Crystal Pier. They have really amazing mochas. I think Debbie did this to me on purpose, it's a conspiracy.

Back on topic, when I left to move to Frazier Park I needed a change. Let's back up a little. Most of you have heard this story before but I need to explain it to those who haven't. My Grandmother tells me I'm part Bohemian. I had to look it up because my mother told me that just meant Polish. Well it doesn't. Long story short, Bohemians became gypsies because they were chased out of their land and the country became one of the many "Slovakias" that are over in that part of the world. Or something like that. So as genetics usually go, the gypsy trait was passed to some, carried by others, but also missed quite a few. I was one of the "lucky" ones to inherit this restless trait. Yes, I get restless. Has anyone seen the movie "Chocolat"? Exactly.

What does all this mean? That the thought of living the rest of my life in the same place terrifies me. I feel like that means I've decided I'm through with what life has to offer and I'm ready to settle into the place of my death. I know, it's absolutely ridiculous but I can't help it. So chances are, even if (when) I move back here, I'll find some other way to wander off into strange places where I don't know anybody. It's in my blood, what can I say?

Where was I going with all this? Oh yeah. So I was thinking about what I want my life to be and where I'm at now, and more importantly- what I'm NOT getting out of life right now. I want to be near my friends. For several reasons:
1. If anything happens to me or one of them, we need to be close so we can take care of each other.
2. We can have girls night without me having to drive 3 hours or get on a plane. Girls night should be more frequent.
3. I can just meet up with one of them for coffee without having to plan weeks ahead of time.
4. Sometimes girls need emergency hugs and bottles of wine and that also can't be done long distance.

I also need to be near the ocean. Yes, you heard me right. I NEED to be near the ocean. Also somehow in my blood. I think if you breathe enough ocean air, it gets absorbed into your blood system or something. Do you know how long it's been since I surfed? No wonder why my vein collapsed, it didn't have enough ocean water in it!!

I need to be near a pool. Another absolute need here. Extensive research on myself and my moods has revealed a huge difference between the me with chlorine and the me without. We're talking a chemical dependency here. There's no pools in Frazier Park. Not to mention that I spent $24 on two Heartland Masters Swim Team swim caps and I left San Diego before the order came in. So somewhere there's two swimcaps with my name (literally) written on them. I'm sure they've been thrown away by now, but that's not the point. I need to get back on a swim team. It's good for me. It's cheap therapy.

I need to be in a city. It's important for me to have access to all the important things: trauma centers and hospitals, grocery stores, sushi restaurants, DSW, Target, and post offices that deliver mail directly to your door. Imagine that, by the way. Don't our taxes pay for those guys to deliver our mail? I don't pay taxes so that I have to drive on the ice and snow to get to the post office to pick up my mail out of my post office box. I thought only people with stalkers had post office boxes. Not so. In Frazier Park, everyone has one, or they don't get mail. Even on paved roads!

And while we're on the subject, I'm now working on banning myself from ice and snow altogether. I know right now that's kind of impossible, but it's for my own health, safety and emotional well-being. It's depressing, it's dangerous, and it's cold. Ice kills more people per year than toasters in bath tubs. I made that up. I tried to research it, but apparently "ICE" can also mean Immigration and Customs Enforcement, or be in reference to crystal meth. People die from both of those as well I guess.

Also, the quality of gyms in Frazier Park reminds me of the small stuffy gyms we had in high school. Not very impressive.

I had to buy a "trainer" for my bicycle in order to ride it year round in Frazier Park (FP). It converted it into an indoor bicycle. Maybe I need to live where I can ride it year round.

If the electricity goes out in San Diego, it's not usually a big deal. If it goes out in FP, I can literally die of hypothermia. At my age, that's not really a legit way to die. Kinda stupid if you ask me. And no, I can't start a fire in the middle of my living room, people. Then I would die of carbon monoxide poisoning.

So here's my plan. I'd really like to take another stab at Redding Hotshots, but I've got a feeling (for a couple reasons) that my home unit (FP) is not going to allow me to go. If they do let me go, I'll decide after this summer where it is I'm going to next. And that may or may not be San Diego. If they don't allow me to go, I'm going to seriously consider moving back to San Diego. I think I'm ready. Or at least ready for now. I guess I can still reserve the right to pack up and leave if the itch comes back (and it probably will). And I can always take vacations to strange, faraway lands in order to satisfy the urge.

So that's my epiphany as well as I'm able to describe it. That means no ladies, I'm not leaving for good.