Tomorrow I will be heading to the supposedly incessant blue skied San Diego for four days of stock photo shoots involving Hispanic fitness, teen driving, nutrition, pets, heart attacks, gardening, and forth and/or fifth marriages. I have only seen the grand state of California once, at thirteen, when my grandparents spent the colder part of the year in a retirement establishment in Palm Springs. We played miniature golf, ate copious amounts of cheese curd, and played long rounds of fill-er-bust.
Now that the sun is shimmying its blazing head into autumnal clouds, I am looking forward to welcoming back nasal freckles, wearing coconuts on my teats, and burying toes into sand.