I moved to San Diego in January.  Now instead of stepping out into midtown Manhattan every time I leave the apartment and having a stellar view of the Empire State Building from every window in my home, I step out into jasmine- and orange-blossom-scented air, palm trees, pine trees, eucalyptus trees, and birds singing.  Instead of walking up and down 3rd Avenue and all over the city and riding the subway, taking the bus, hailing cabs, I hop into my Fiat 500 Pop with a sunroof and drive down the Pacific Coast Highway for a few minutes, park, and go into my office with a view of the ocean. 

 

These are the steps I take to get down to the beach most days. I walk a short block, then along a ridge, down a short path, over a railroad track, down a longer, steeper path, and then I'm here. Most of the way the path is lined with purple flowers. The air is sweet and salty and fresh. The waves are beautiful. The surf and surfers are too. Life is a dream.

I live in Del Mar, a block from the ocean.  I'm telling you this because I still can't believe it's real.   Until now I've been too stunned to write.  Stay tuned for tales from the beach and Southern California!