 Lexi left Netarts for southern California in her teens because she couldn't stand the "one-horse town anymore." After traveling the world, renting million dollar homes for pennies in the days before house-sitting and Airbnb, and chasing one too many boyfriends, Oregon called her name again. She rents a tiny cabin near the beach and runs a well-known thrift/knick-knack store called Lex's Cool Stuff (Google it, it's an institution). Her landlord is 103 and said that he doesn't want her hippie stuff there when he dies, so Lexi is taking it one day at a time. She wrapped brownies up for me to take on the road and I bought a $25 guitar because I couldn't say no.
More than anything, Lexi's wackiness gave me a template for how to approach this blog. I was struggling with who to capture and how to do it without being intrusive. She taught me to throw that aside if I find the right story. It's about the story, she said. Not about filling space. Wise words from someone, who very humbly didn't understand what a blog is.
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