My person, like my cycle, is now Heading South. We'll be in beautiful Northeast L.A. for a few days visiting friends and family. Winter is my favorite time to be there: everything turns green after the first big storm, the sky is clear and blue, the weather cool but mild. Sometimes, the imposing mountains of the Angeles Crest, which loom up like giants a few miles away, are half-covered in snow after a rain. The view from my father's modest deck in Highland Park is spectacular at sunset, as the light reflects all rosy-gold off the mountains and nearby hills.
This is a welcome distraction from the reality of the One Pink Line that I was faced with again this morning. The friends we're staying with--one of whom is a high-end chef--make their own wine and brew their own beer, which I will look upon as my secret consolation prize for being infertile.