2024 Wednesday — History

Mr. Fun & I celebrate July 31st every year; in 2012 it was the day the curtain opened to a future that we couldn’t even imagine. This all began because at the beginning of 2011 three young pups were given to us and instantly our vacationing expenses multiplied. The cost of kenneling three dogs was staggering. I casually said, “We need to buy a vacation house where we can go with our pups.” “That's not possible,” was the next thought. It wasn’t possible in Southern California, but it was on the Central Coast. We also needed a future place where we could retire our professional titles and live happily ever after. We honestly had no idea of the door that was opening, of the future we were entering.

Twelve years ago today we did our first “walk-thru” of this beach house “shack.” It was the only “For Sale” house in this town that we could afford, but we weren’t sure we could afford it. Looking back we realize — it is the ONLY house in this town that was made for us; we couldn’t afford not to buy it. This house was waiting for us to fill it with our hopes, our dreams, our future — our lives. It was waiting for us to put our fingerprints all over it; to decorate it with our uniqueness; to give it a life like it had never had. The front room wallpaper was and is 32 feet of windows that face the Pacific Ocean. The side windows make it into a panorama. So this little shack has a point-to-point view of the Estero Bay. We can see the south Point Buchon and the north Point Estero. In between those two landmarks are the lights of the communities of Los Osos and Morro Bay and the huge volcanic plug that is called Morro Rock. Our little town has the pier that Captain Cass made famous or possibly it made him famous, the old “almost” abandoned Borradori’s Garage on the bluff north of the pier, the Vet’s Hall, over a hundred years old, and Captain Cass’s House.

I had seen this property on the Internet and the real estate agent we had been communicating with for the better part of a year sent its info to me; I think she sarcastically sent it as a joke; she thought it was "a little shack" and that we'd have no interest, but I also think she was tired of our "slow-poke" mentality; I was quite content to look at property (mostly on the Internet) until I found what we could afford and what we needed in order to be comfortable. When I saw it on the Internet, three elements about the house caught my attention: the price, the view of the ocean, and that it had more than one bathroom.

After we walked-thru, similar to several other decisions we have made, we talked non-stop about whether to make an offer or not, we prayed over and over about it, we asked two professionals if it was feasible for us (our insurance rep and our financial advisor), they both gave us a thumbs-up. We saw the potential. The house had been a rental for years, and the owners had never lived in it and never done any improvements. "Fixer upper" was an understatement. The place was a wreck, a disaster, a derelict, but none of that mattered to us. We had the hope of discovering a diamond in all the dust. We saw the potential. It was love at first sight, well cautious love, fearful love, excited love at the possibility. So we jumped out of the airplane believing God would catch us, and He did. Several days later we made an offer and asked for a 90 day escrow. Making an offer, then having to make a counter offer, ultimately purchasing, and years of "fixing and fussing" have been nerve wracking and confidence building. All the years we've been married most of our leisurely moments have been spent near the ocean.

Today we realize what we found. The memories are delightful; the reality is intoxicating — that we had this location to retire to. This home is far from perfect, but perfection is so over-rated. We are amazed at what God has done. Today we have twelve years of wonder, of thankfulness, of history, and lots of reasons to celebrate. We sit here looking at the waves and are immensely thankful for all that has transpired these past 144 months and sort of feel like we need to pinch each other. So we are celebrating! We thank God. It's a story that only He could write.

P.S. One final note, this little lavender house is named "Hank's House" because one day a long time ago a local resident asked us where we lived. We told her, and she responded, "That's Hank's House!" and since then that's what we've affectionately called our place.

Rosie (& Mr. Fun), aka Carol
and Chloe & Mitzi too!