It is a balmy Sunday morning here in SOuthern California; blue skies and the first rays of Spring waft through the neighborhood. The city is alive and reading up on the days events, while in its secret heart it rejoices that the chilly rains of winter are now behind us, and the Beautiful Days of Paradise --our normal fair--have returned unmarred. We celebrate that the Pacific Ocean has stayed in its place, and that we have not fallen into it lock and stock. We celebrate that we had no freezing, no snow, no bitter hail, in our hivernal transition. We rejoice that we are California, where lives go to be reborn, where laid back is a Senior Policy, and whence all consciousness comes from returns.


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