On the one hand, Roz, I totally agree that California is a wonderful place to visit. Living there, OTOH, was not great for me.

I moved there in 1990 to be with my wife when I got out of the Navy; we promptly divorced. (To be fair, I knew the marriage was doomed when I moved there; I believe my master plan to make things work is best summarized as, "Maybe a miracle will happen.")

After nine months of living in my ex-wife's guest room and trying to get job interviews during a recession, I got a job in Silicon Valley (Palo Alto) and got an apartment in the SW Bay area. And a year later I was earning more money than I'd ever dreamed of (the only time I ever had salary above the Social Security tax limit), so it was time to buy a house (I'd owned twice before). And O. M. G.

Prices were nuts in any place close to work, so I asked coworkers how they afforded places nearby. They didn't. One guy lived 90 minutes away, just so he could have a place with a yard for his kids. Then throw in other factors:

• Wildfires. At one point during the work day we were told to be on one-hour alert, meaning if the wildfire in the area kept to its present course we needed to be ready to evacuate our offices with one hour’s warning. Wind shifted in time.
• Weather. I grew up in Chicagoland and spent most of my Navy career in New England, so “weather” to me meant something that changed by the hour, not the month.
• Earthquakes. I wondered why I never saw any trucks going by my apartment building, yet I could feel heavy truck traffic at all odd hours. Not truck traffic, my landlord explained, just little geophysical murmurs. And then that strange feeling, walking by the pool, with zero wind, and yet the water is gently rolling to one end of the pool, then gently back, then gently back again… I bought bookshelves, and they came with additional hardware to fasten them to the wall so that they wouldn’t kill me.

And in 1993 I was outa there!

My sister lives in LA, but she has to, since she works in the entertainment industry. She raised her kids in bedrooms that were only slightly larger than the beds they slept in (“…but at least they have their own bedrooms!”).

Sounds like you have the best deal, Roz, getting to head out there to visit. I hope you can see your grandkids soon!