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| Santa Monica in February |
I've been back in New Mexico for a week - a week that has skidded by at an alarming rate (it's true what they tell you about time accelerating as you advance in years, I'm sorry to say). Monday morphed into Friday with nary a blink. I've been playing correspondence catch-up, shoveling snow, doing heaps of laundry, and sifting through e-mails. I slid through Valentine's Day with a yawn and a shiver and a rain check in spite of good intentions and an armful of red roses. Steve and I are both nursing a cold- the first we've caught in three years. Memories of those balmy afternoons sipping vanilla lattes in Santa Monica are fading fast.
Albuquerque was dark and well below freezing when we boarded the plane to LAX. Two and a half hours later we were strolling the Santa Monica farmer's market in the morning sun, inhaling the ocean air, our winter jackets abandoned, tossed in the back seat of the rental car. It was lovely if not surreal.
Albuquerque was dark and well below freezing when we boarded the plane to LAX. Two and a half hours later we were strolling the Santa Monica farmer's market in the morning sun, inhaling the ocean air, our winter jackets abandoned, tossed in the back seat of the rental car. It was lovely if not surreal.
After scoping out the nearby Wild Oats, Whole Foods, and Third Street Promenade, we headed up to The Grove to drop in on our son, Colin, who was teaching a class at The Studio/Creative Bar at the Apple Store.
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