Ambivalence

For all my bitching about living in the corner of nowhere, some days I like it here. Like today, when instead of sitting at my desk, I spent the better part of the early morning on a long walk up Mt. Soledad, through some ritzy La Jolla neighborhoods with ocean views, back down the other side and home along a well-traveled and reasonably pleasant bike path. The sun was shining, the sky a crisp blue, and the promise of the weekend was everywhere around me. I have no right to complain. No right.

After the Storm

Winter Storm

In an unusual display of versatility for this coastal desert, rain pounded us for the last five days, flooding most of the low-lying areas of the city and churning up the Pacific. Even the most die-hard surfers were nowhere to be seen.

Anza Borrego Desert

Here's where we go when we head east.

(John, Patrick, Alex and Hannah. January 2010)

Looking West on a January Evening

Stuck on the Edge

John suggested that we change the name of this blog since it no longer follows our summer road trip from San Diego to Chicago. But for me, the title represents a perpetual state-of-mind that exists living on the western coast of the United States. As much as I enjoy the natural beauty of the shore and the Pacific, I also feel a bit stuck here. It's so far away from the rest of the country. When I want to travel by car, there is truly nowhere to go but east, which is desert, or north toward Orange County and LA -- another kind of desert. We're only half-hour from the Mexican border, but driving in Baja these days is apparently not very safe, so I won't be doing that alone. I like the freedom of the open road. I want to go more directions.