sweet home, sandy-eggo

It's that time of year where I start to think of San Diego a little more than longingly, where I realize that by the time I go home again it'll have been a year since my last visit. I saw my parents this summer, and my mom in February, but I haven't been HOME in a year.

When I think of San Diego, I have two pictures in my head.

The first is at the La Jolla Cove- the very same cove where I have so many times snorkled, swam, picked shells and taken in ocean air, as well as on one occasion almost died by being bashed against the rocks at high tide (a long and highly amusing story).

The second is what you see as you leave my neighborhood in Rancho Bernardo going toward the high school- mountains. That one toward the right? Megan, Mary and I climbed that one day, no trails, just started hiking right up it. I'll never forget the view from the top.

And other things: The Gaslamp Quarter, and martinis with Katie. La Jolla Shores and bonfires on the beach. Sitting on the porch swing with a book and falling asleep in the sun. The sky- palm trees- punk music- clean grocery stores- fast drivers- eucalyptus and bouganvilla- the smell of rosemary in the garden- knowing each day will be just as beautiful as the last- the Zoo and Wild Animal Park- the Botanical Gardens at Balboa Park- the Hotel Del Coronado- rollerbladers and surfers- canyons to hike in (and waterfalls to stumble upon)- paddling your kayak through a pod of dolphins- friendly, relaxed people- Oscar's breadsticks- the crabby lady at Dragon- sunshine that actually warms your bones- Julian apple pie- Henry's Food Store- tamales at the farmer's market-

It occurs to me that I grew up in one of the nicest places in the country.

Did I make anyone want to come home with me?