Searching for a mellow place to live

As I type this, I'm sitting in a Starbucks in Santa Monica. It's mid-April and the temperature is in the mid-60's. Which is actually a bit cool for Southern California this time of year, but feels great to my Northeast Ohio bones at the tail end of what can only be described as a long, long winter.

Chronologically, of course, winter wasn't any longer than it normally is, but man, it sure felt like it.

I've traveled just enough to have experienced a wide variety of cities in different parts of the globe, and I find that not only are they different physically, they also vary in overall vibe.

Like New York, for instance. New York is stereotypically fast-paced, but to me it's a "good" fast-paced. I don't find it overwhelming, I find it exhilarating.

And London. London is one of my favorite places in the world. If it wasn't so darned expensive, I would consider living there someday. I just like the way the Brits view the world.

As for Los Angeles, where I am now? It's an intense cool here, I would say. Just a pervasive mellow vibe that I love. It resonates with me after long months spent in the oppressive dark and cold of Cleveland in mid-winter.

People are different, of course, and I'm sure there are many Los Angelenos who approach life with an artery-hardening intensity that shortens lives and dampens spirits. But for the most part, the ones I come across are happy and, while not exactly care-free, certainly pleasant and relaxed.

Is it because they live most of their lives in the sunshine on the edge of the world's largest ocean? Maybe. I don't know. All I know is that most of them are what I want to be when I grow up.

I've said before that one of my personal downfalls, health-wise, is the fact that I don't manage stress especially well. I really should be practicing daily meditation or Tai Chi or something, but to this point it has been too low on the priority list to work it into my routine.

Which is probably flawed thinking. If I let stress get the best of me, I'll have far fewer days available to me in which to enjoy that routine.

I'm sure I could live the easygoing life in Cleveland if I tried. It's just that it seems so much easier to do it out here. Or in Colorado. Or in the other places I've visited where things seem to run more slowly and people take everything in stride better than I do.

There may a grass-is-always-greener component to all of this, but it wouldn't surprise me if Terry and I eventually end up someplace sunnier and more mellow. For now, though, I'm going to continue trying to take it easier in the only place I've ever called home: America's North Coast.

If I squint when I look out over Lake Erie, sometimes it looks just like the Pacific...