I don’t need a mansion in Malibu. Or a pristine white yacht on the Caribbean. Or a condo on Fifth Avenue.
All I want — all I need, friends — is an itty bitty tin camper on the sand, 1950s curtains, rusted propane tanks, pink flamingos and all.
I’m pretty sure I can make a healthy living selling homemade seashell necklaces, hanging succulents and bowls of campstove clam chowder. What do you think?
I think it sounds awesome. I think it sounds like home.
Here is a look around “my” neighborhood (What — can’t a girl have a beach-bumming dream?), the little village that is hanging on as new laws mean lots of change for the retro homes at Lawson’s Landing Fishing Resort on the Sonoma Coast.
It has character. It has grit. It has something that gets me every time.