If you hear of a missing person matching my description on the news it just means I’m wandering around being lost.  We are in Laguna Hills and that is the worst – the roads change names, they twist and turn, one minute I’m going east and then suddenly on the same road I’m going west (I can only tell this because I understand the movement of the sun across the sky).

It seems there is no such thing as a “grid” in this area.  Despite the fact that is area is largely “planned development,” apparently the town borders were here long before this and were determined as far as I can tell, by ranchers putting their fences up wherever they damn well pleased depending on the water and the grass available.   Then they eventually got together on a Saturday night at the local saloon and said “ok, our two ranches will be one town, and your two ranches will be the other.”  They had another shot and that was that.  Of course I’m making all this up but it seems plausible. Why else would one town be split down the middle by another town, which then moves to split apart yet another town, which has been split apart already by the first town?

Yes, that is what I am dealing with and I AM SO CONFUSED!

Last week I went to Dana Point to join a chorus (yay!)  When I left my house, I followed my GPS.  I have already learned that I should just shut up and not argue with the GPS right now.  I knew Dana Point was southwest of where I live.  But the GPS told me to turn east on the main drag.  I was sure I was never going to get to chorus because as I drove I could take off my sunglasses – it was 6 p.m and the sun was clearly behind me and I was headed due east.

I knew that the main drag would change names somewhere along the line, so that did not phase me.  I kept driving, figuring that it really didn’t matter in the big scheme of things if I never arrived at chorus.  I glanced around, noticing the Trader Joe’s and telling myself I’d have to remember where it was, and oh, there’s an Ace Hardware and gee, imagine that – a Starbucks!  Suddenly, despite being on the same road and not having been aware of any turns, sharp or otherwise, I was being blinded by the sun and there was the ocean ahead of me.  Yes, I was facing due west.

It’s been going on like this for three weeks.  I have always prided myself on being good with directions, having a sixth sense  of where I am in space, based on 57 years of watching the sun come up and go down.   It’s true that because I grew up living in Illinois where the Large Body of Water –  Lake Michigan – was east, even after 30 years in the Bay Area I would have to consciously think when I took an exit ramp that demanded I choose between east and west. I would have to go through the mental process each and every time: “In Illinois the water was east.  Here the water is west (over those coastal hills).  You want to go towards the water.  Go west, young man, go west.”

But here in Orange County (which is gorgeous, friendly and I’m very happy thank you very much, don’t even think I’ll be looking for that plastic surgeon after all,  there are normal people here) the hills go every which way, there is no coastal range per se to orient me, and I wander around aimlessly.  Fortunately I have enough time now but next week I start work – as a home health visiting physical therapist have mercy on my soul.

Call me once in awhile.  I will have my phone plugged into the cigarette lighter on the car and I figure I can just gas up and keep wandering, but it would be nice to hear from you once in awhile, and maybe you could guide me home.