I just like it here better

I was trying for a habit of a new blog every time I moved, but I put a lot of time into making this one look nice and Sarah-ish … and I just didn't want to go through that effort again. The failed effort is here, if you need to see what that was like. It was really sporadic. Just not as sporadic as this one.

So even though I'm back in the 307, I'm gonna keep writing on the blog that says I left.

That said, writing for a living makes writing for fun kind of a not-fun writing experience. I can't even apologize for my bloggy absence. I'm so tired of plotting and interviewing and planning and editing and restructuring … I just can't. It's like asking someone to go for a light jog as soon as they've crossed a marathon finish line. Every. Single. Day.

Cannon Beach sand!

I'm exhausted, I've learned a lot more about my hometown than I ever meant to, and I spent part of last night tramping through the 108-year-old basement of a bar to see the alleged opening of an illegal Prohibition-era tunnel for myself.

That part was actually fun.

A lot of it is actually fun, when I'm able to breathe a bit and enjoy it.

I just really miss Washington. And Oregon. And the coast. And Laramie.

I'd miss my folks and Gillette if I was in any of those places, but I find myself pulling up the same webcam view of Cannon Beach an awful lot. Good thing I got those bottles of sand before I left. I had to bake the sand in the oven to kill any smellies or creepy-crawlies, but I can still smell the brine, if I think about it long enough.