Posted by: ritagone | July 20, 2011

Southern California to Post Falls, Idaho

Air travel never ceases to amaze me.

One hour you’re in Southern California, where you live your life, and a few hours later, you’re in another state, sometimes another country, and often so far away it makes your head spin.

That just boggles my mind.

Yesterday very early in the morning I got up and made my way to the Burbank Airport, a tiny airport that is so much easier to navigate than LAX that I fly in and out of it whenever I can.  I flew to Salt Lake City because that too is an easier airport to deal with.  Of course, things never go as smoothly as you’d like, but eventually I wound up where I wanted to: Spokane Airport.  There I was met by my husband, who drove me to my final destination, Post Falls, Idaho.

I know, I know: most of you reading this haven’t even heard of Post Falls, Idaho.  It’s a tiny suburb of Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, a better known town known for its tourist trade and its triathalon once a year and several other functions that keep it on the map of America.  For a smaller city, it has some mighty fine restaurants and cute shops for shopping.  And a beautiful lake with expensive homes that you can gawk at for free, and a golf course with a famous hole that is an island on the lake!

We have a vacation home on the Spokane River, a condo that overlooks the river in this tiny community of Post Falls, population  27,000.  We bought it as an investment years ago when property in Idaho was cheap.  Well, little did we know that property in Idaho was going to get even cheaper, so now we keep it because…well, it would just be plain stupid to sell it at such a loss.  So we make use of it as our family vacation site once a year, because the grandkids love the opportunity to go out on the pontoon boat we are partial owners of and because there are many kid places to go in the area.  It’s ideal for these sorts of things, and so we make an effort to take the two flights required to get up here, or sometimes we drive the two days that are necessary to get here.  It’s not easy.  But we do it because when we get here, it’s beautiful, and we sigh and say that it’s worth the effort.  We grumble on the way up, because it’s a pain in the neck, and then we sigh and wonder why we complain about it.  Happens every time.

Michael and I come up as often as we can during the year.  We love to come when it’s snowing and cold, because, living in Southern California as we do, we think of snow as a kind of fun thing and a novelty.  We don’t dare tell this to our friends who live in Minnesota or New England.  We like to come up here and pretend that we live in snow year-round.  Then we get to go home to the balmy winters of Southern California.  It’s a kind of trick we play on our minds to enjoy winter without having to endure the hardship of it at all.  You’ll forgive us if you’re reading this and you live in a cold climate.  Being Southern California citizens, we’re sissies when it comes to the cold.  Anything below 55 degrees Fahrenheit is freezing to us.  We pull out the parkas (yes, we keep them for the trips to Idaho) and tell everyone how very cold we are when the temps get below the 50’s.  So when we come up to Idaho in the winter, we pretend we’re made of tough stuff.  We pretend we know how to walk in the snow and the ice.  We even scrape ice off the windshield of the rental car like we do it all the time, when inside we’re squealing, “Wasn’t that fun??”  We’re very adventuresome, we are.

We like to come up here to experience rain too and thunderstorms.  Those are other weather phenomenon we don’t have where we live down south.  Hey, we paid good money to sit in our living room up here in Post Falls and watch the rain pouring down.  Don’t begrudge us this experience.

But for now, we’re going to enjoy the grandkids and our daughter and son-in-law and son for a few days more and relish the time together in very close quarters while we can.  Pretty soon they’ll all be gone back home, down south to Southern California, and we’ll be left alone, just the two of us, with the quiet, sitting on the balcony with a glass of wine and the beautiful river and the eagles and the pine trees across the river.  There will be nothing to do but read and pray and think and eat out  in those wonderful restaurants nearby that I mentioned earlier and talk softly and sleep in and check my Facebook account.

I may never come home again.

Because the other part of coming home involves getting on a plane and reversing the travels of yesterday: flying from one airport to another to another,  hoping the connections work, the flights are on time, the weather holds up, and God grants another day of life.

And knowing me, I will be thrilled to walk in the door of my home in Southern California, greeted by the bark of my puppy Sherlock, walking through the familiar rooms of the home I love, enjoying the warmth of Southern California and knowing that, once again, we’re truly and really “home.”

Remember that by the end of July I will be migrating completely over to my blogsite,, so I hope you’ll go over there and sign up so that you can continue to receive my weekly Rita’s Ramblings without interruption.  After the end of July, unless you are signed up at the blogsite, you will no longer get the weekly writings from me.

Have a great rest of the week!  Rita


  1. Hey, glad to see this.

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