I have such a problem. I walk down the lovely tree lined streets here in Portland, and what is my one major thought?: This is not California. Why do I torture myself this way? And then to make matters worse I decide to read my feeds before heading to bed early and one of my favorite singer songwriters, Tom Brosseau has a new post up today. He is living three blocks from where Andy and I used to live in Santa Monica. Pure torture for a girl like me with a longing in her heart for palm trees, window shopping, celebrity watching, sand in the air, jasmine flowers filling me… I could go on and on. I remember before moving from Berkeley to Santa Monica I was scared of the possibilities of being surrounded by fake hair, fake boobs, fake everything. But, I loved it so. ("It looks fake, I like it," from Joe Versus the Volcano.) And I miss my friends, and well… I could go on and on.

Check out Tom's blog if you're interested. He's very talented and heartfelt, my kinda fella: http://tombrosseau.com/blog/?p=271  

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