Hang out at Corral Beach across from Malibu Seafood and you're going to see dolphins.
Whether you can tear your gaze away long enough to point your camera and get anything more than a dorsal fin or two, well, that's another story altogether.
Thanksgiving's done, which means we're over the brink and headlong into the holidays.
Here's wishing us all smooth sailing.
The sunrise here this morning, just a streak of scarlet between the clouds.
And among the many blessings I'm counting today, sweatpants with an elastic waist, for when the dishes are done and it's time for that third second slice of pie.
Jake the Giant Puppy Dog is still with us. (And thank you to Amy for realizing the photographer needs a photo of her own, and for shooting this sweet portrait.)
Yes, we have lawns and hydrangeas and daisies in our yards. And no, that's not what the land here does, when left to its own devices.
Not so much a sunrise as a quick glimpse.
But the light at that instant was amazing:
And there's the South Bay, magnified on the horizon in that eerie, bouncing, pre-storm light:
Good luck to everyone (200 hikers have rsvp'd so far) on this year's Great Los Angeles Walk, an 19-ish-mile stroll from the heart of the city to the edge of the sea! This morning, we drink to you.
Can't make it? Then follow on twitter with @greatlawalk.
This morning actually looks like this:
Which is why instead, I'm going to show you this. (And I know, tilted horizon, but look, sun! And blue!)
The mountain nights are cold now, the sycamores changing color, going from green to gold, from summer to fall.
It was just me on the beach and this guy in the water, catching the sunrise and, in his case, maybe breakfast, too.
The view always includes the towers of downtown after a really good rain storm. And the sunrise colors are hiding it, but the mountains are topped with snow.
I'm an analog kind of girl. I've got a '50s stove and a '40s fridge and I still miss my '49 Plymouth. But when it comes to the two moments each day when the time hits 11:11, I'm all about the digital.
In my geeky world, when the laptop and iPhone blink a long series of parallel lines today, it's gonna feel just like Christmas.
Here's the moment before sunrise today, moisture from the coming storm forming a prism, fracturing the light.
We thought we were losing Jake this weekend. He looked long and hard into the abyss but apparently they don't have room service so he stepped back from the brink and returned to us.
If you don't want to know medical specifics, skip the rest of this graf. Ready? Here goes: He was bleeding internally for a couple of days but it either slowed or stopped. Not only is he not in distress, he's actually eating and asking for the tennis ball.
OK, it's safe to look now.
That photo is Jake and Maisie at the lake here, shot by a friend who was taking them for a walk a few weeks back. A moment later, they made a break for it and -- hello, Labradors -- spent the next half hour refusing all offers to come out of the water.
I love it when a place exceeds the promise of its name. One of these days I'll set up my tripod and shoot this right.
I wasn't going to say anything until it was over, but then realized that's not fair. Jake has been part of this blog since the beginning and I know from the emails you send, there's a lot of love out there for this big, big dog. So here goes:
A few weeks ago, Jake refused his breakfast. If you've ever met a Lab, you know how wrong that is. I figured it was something he did eat, namely the stuff that exits a horse (see how I tried to spare you the visual?), which is plentiful on some of the mountain trails we've been exploring lately.
But when the vet touched Jake's stomach, right away he wanted to do an X-ray. And when I explained that as a writer, things are a little tight right now and was this really necessary, he said yes. And then he did an ultrasound at no charge, which is when I knew we were in trouble.
So it turns out that Jake has cancer, fast-growing and inoperable. He was OK for a while, and now suddenly he's not. You pet owners know, you can never tell with these things. He may surprise us and rally. (We've already shocked the hell out of him by serving him chicken and steak and letting him watch soap operas in his PJs. (You know I'm making that part up, right, about the PJs?)
We're keeping him comfortable, keeping a close eye on him, trying not to kiss him too much. And the instant he tells us (you pet owners who have been through this, you know, they really do tell you), he'll get a gentle and loving and dignified assist to wherever it is he's headed, to be joyfully welcomed by whoever it is has decided that it's time for him to go.
I'm going to ask a huge favor -- please don't email me. I just don't think I could bear it right now. Hug your dog or tickle your cat or have a chat with your bird or reptile. Be extra sweet to someone in your life. It'll lighten the universe a bit and I know we'll all feel the good of that.
I'll let you know when he goes. And then we can talk about all the animals we've had the great honor to love, and to be loved by, and about the baffling fact that we humans are forced to outlive them.
A camera I kind of hated died today and here's one of the last shots on the card.
In case anyone needs a reminder, here's some of what the McCourts splurged on with the millions they looted from our beloved Dodgers. (Hey, as long as Vin Scully's part of the mix, they'll remain beloved to me.)
More details about the $33 million home they purchased from Courtney Cox and David Arquette back in 2007 right here.
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