Vacay and par-tay

I’m a workaholic and a creature of habit. People who know me well know this.

When I got married on a Saturday about eight years ago, I requested just a couple of days off, the Friday before and the Monday after. As those who’ve tied the knot can attest to—particularly those whose weddings, like mine, were large and mostly DIY—there’s a lot to do before the big day.

Long story short, many things for my wedding were accomplished very last-minute, and a few not at all. That created quite a bit of stress on top of the normal prenuptial anxiety. In hindsight, I should have taken a couple of weeks off: one week in advance of the event to prepare and one afterward to decompress. I mean, I had more than enough vacation time banked.

I hate to admit this, but my husband and I never embarked on a honeymoon. We toyed around with the idea of going to a few places overseas, but ended up using our small savings as a down payment on a house two years after we wed.

Fast-forward to today, and my vacation is scheduled around the calendar of my young son’s preschool, which, this year, was closed the last week of July. A full week off is a beautiful thing. I’ve learned to love it over the past couple of years.

Generally, my family heads to the coast. In 2015, we explored parts of Oregon—first the area surrounding Tillamook, where we camped with friends, and then Yachats (pronounced YAH-hots), where we rented a little cottage. Last year, we went to our usual locale in the Mendocino area, accompanied by my dad and step-mom. There, we landed in Albion, in a fancy house overlooking the beach upon which my husband proposed to me.

This year, though, we strayed from our normal course. We headed north, into the heart of the State of Jefferson. Neither my husband nor I had ever explored far-Northern California, so we thought we’d give it a go. We rented a place in Dunsmuir, a cute little town on the upper Sacramento River in Siskiyou County, about an hour south of the Oregon border.

We took day trips to other small surrounding communities, including McCloud and the City of Mount Shasta, where we drove up to the base of the beautiful, snow-covered mountain for which it’s named. It probably would have been a decent vacation had our rental been comfortable. It wasn’t. We barely slept. And I returned home with a migraine that lasted for three full days.

As a creature of habit, next year I’ll probably get back to the ocean. For me, it’s a sure thing.

In other news: The cover of this week’s issue includes a little something extra—a new logo denoting this paper’s 40 years in print. That’s right, just about four decades ago, a revolutionary group of Chicoans who worked at Chico State’s Wildcat took that newspaper off campus and transformed it into this fine publication.

To celebrate, we’re hosting a community block party at the back entrance to our headquarters on the afternoon of Aug. 26, a Saturday, with live music, food trucks and a beer garden. Entrance is free. Mark your calendars, dear readers, and look for further details in the weeks to come.