Today was yet another day spent in Pacifica, CA. It very well may be the place for us, the signs and portents told me so.

The biggest among the omens lying heavy in the fog-laden air was heading to the 23rd Annual Fog Fest. I loves me a street fair, and since I’ve been in California the vast majority have been rather frou-frou affairs. The crafts are by folks who consider themselves artisans with a whole heaping helping of evocative travel photos and especially foreign-colored doors and faux-Eastern mysticism.

The Fog Fest was the first I have been to outside of Berkeley (and we are not looking to live in that rather dismal social experiment of hippieness) that reminded me of Cambridge’s huge fests with a closed Mass. Ave., a variety of foods and an intermix of groovy, crafty clothes, political t-shirts, jnk and informational booths.

As a band played out a Big Brother and the Holding Company song, and I imagined Janis possibly hanging at this very beach, we bought fog t-shirts from a local shop. We got a free tote bag from the local library for signing up for more info, and M. picked up a most excellent anti-Republican bit of t-shirt art. I got a boozy fogcutter drink in a souvenir glass. I was feeling good and homey, but it could have been the rum.

And Cambridge, it doesn’t have the Hell’s Angels representing.

Mostly the purpose of the day was M. and I went back to the house under construction to see how it had progressed in a week. Among a whole lot of good flooring and painting and whatnot, there was the “Pending” sign linked to the “For Sale” our front. It’s pending on us.

One thing about the house that none of the natives or long timers to the general vicinity, the area called the Peninsula that is what Silicon Valley is all about, none of them believe when we insist the house is sunny. As you drive north from Palo Alto and Stanford’s cow pasture on Route 280, if you stay in the center of the land mass or you leave 280 and veer east to the Bay, the sun beats down.

As you head northwest, toward the ocean and south of San Francisco, oftentimes there’s a noticeable drop in temperature, and if you take the exit toward Pacifica, within minutes your driving through a cloud bank in a gray fog. Hugging the coast on Route 1, the Pacific Coast Highway, you move in and out of the clouds and blue skies.

Just as the locals claim, when you get to Linda Mar, the Pacifica State Beach, you can see a clear line where blue wrestles gray.

When you get to what very well may be our new home, it is sunshine and lemon trees.

Let’s hope the inspections go breezily this week. Not to mention the madness that is mortgage getting in the midst of a national crisis.

If you have an urge to see the inside of the manse that may belong to us, check out the many, many pictures I took today. It ain’t quite done, but it is mighty purty.

Technorati Tags: California, economy, fog, fruit_trees, mortgage, Pacifica, real_estate, San_Francisco