It's a Dry Heat...
....but it is heat nonetheless. Shannon, she of the miracle massage hands , has been torturing me with her photos of the California coastline this week. I awake to something like this every morning. I'm glad she's having a good time... I just wish I could be there with her. I love my own pool in my own backyard, but there's nothing like running into the ocean and having a wave crash over your head to cool you off. I'd much rather rub salt than chlorine out of my eyes. The grittiness of the sand and the sharpness of the shells is more pleasant to my tootsies than the pool's pebbly surface. And then, there's the smell. Driving from Tiburon to Stinson Beach, I'd roll down the windows as we turned the curve past the Mountain Home Inn, and the parking lot for the trails down to Muir Woods and the fire roads which led you higher up and the Alice Eastwood Campground, scene of several memorable Columbus Day overnights when the Cuters were young. All ...