Northern California has an appeal that Southern California can not quite grasp. I’ve just returned from a week in Half Moon Bay, a quiet coastal town claiming home to the infamous wave Mavericks. Even though, I lived three of my high school years in Santa Cruz, a hippie beach town 45 minutes south, I had never been to the quieter, less populated Half Moon Bay, which is located approximately 25 miles from San Francisco International Airport.  I love the warm sunny beaches of LA, but being up north made me miss hills and space and greenery.  And I could see the stars every night.



There is a quiet sleepiness to Half Moon Bay, except for the weekends, when the influx of city dwellers crowds the coastal highways.

Blue Sky Cafe:  A favorite morning spot for a soy cappuccino.  I must now figure out how to imitate the Gluten-Free Carrot Cake

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Tide pools with the chickadees.


There’s something about being three that I’ve lost being twenty-something.  At three, the world is shiny and pretty.  The park and the aquarium are the best places to be.  It’s about now.  Not tomorrow.  Not yesterday.  Not fear.  Not regret.  Imagination.  Laughter.  Possibility.

There’s a lot I can learn from my niece.


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