I needed to do a little research for a writing project, so I headed to the Village.

It was a beautiful day, with the fog just misting the trees:

On my way in, I stopped by the museum in Little River. It is a modest building, easily missed on a curvy part of the highway. Over its long history, it has served many purposes in our little community, including a place to vote. It was built in the 1800s, and has a remarkable ceiling made of curved pieces cut from a single redwood trunk.

In keeping with my graveyard theme, the museum had an exhibit about the cemetery in Little River, where I have often walked. It is a lovely, peaceful place, and they put in a lot of work to document each grave and find out as much about the occupants as they could. Some were pioneer settlers to this far-flung part of the world. It’s good to know that they are not forgotten.

There were also some historic photos of Hooterville. It never ceases to amaze me that there used to be a bustling lumber mill on the beach under the Hooterville bridge, complete with housing, a hotel, and a store, along with everything needed to mill and ship the mighty coastal redwoods, but there is no sign of any of it now.

When I got to the Village, it was awash in visitors. To be fair, it was a fine summer Saturday, so really, what else would I expect? I did my research as quickly as possible, and popped into the book store to get my birthday gift certificates. I didn’t even bother to pet the Great Catsby, such was my hurry to escape the company of my fellow man. Everyone was in my way as I picked up a few things at the one grocery store, and then a pizza for dinner, even though I had called ahead for the pizza and it was ready and waiting for me.

I couldn’t wait to get out of the Village and back to the Hooterville backwater. You know you are a backwoods-dwelling bumpkin when a bunch of tourists immediately get on your nerves. I couldn’t wait to get back home to the peace and quiet and the kitties.

A YEAR AGO: I never know what I’ll find on my way to work.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Oh, Junapalooza! I miss you!

TEN YEARS AGO: Unboxing the grand old grandfather clock in my old house. I still miss that crazy place.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Nothing goes better with a B movie than an A class cocktail.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Haha! Shocked by our neighbor asking for nearly half a million when she was selling her apartment across the hall from us. Our old place is now worth $1.3 million, even though it still has people above, people below, and no parking space. We paid $200,000 for it back in the dark ages. Or maybe the light ages!

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