Last night at dinner La Skolnique said, "You just said back East. You are so going to move out here!"
We protested the harsh indictment. "Don't harsh our buzz, La Skolnique," we said. "Just 'cuz the weather's gnarly and the peeps are mellow, you think--"
"So moving out here!"
Well, it isn't going to happen. No, not to us.
For one thing, our Beautiful Daughter lives back East--we mean, in New York--and so do our brother, our sister-in-law, and our adorable lad nephews, as well as almost every Berrol and Cantor cousin available, and various pals. Not to mention The Old Newman Place and Odilio. Not to mention that our cat Fuzzy is not as young as he once was, and to inroduce him to Monarch Butterflies at his time of life would be unfortunate.
So no, we are not moving any time soon, but if we were younger and looked good in a sunbonnet we would be out of here in a--a Santa Cruz minute.
We mean, we already loved San Francisco, where the way to open any conversation is "Where did you eat?" (In New York, it's "What are YOU looking at?") This year we have discovered Calistoga, a sleepy little place where, if you don't drink wine, all you have to do all day is lie around in a heated mineral spring, watching your toes bob in front of you and lazily wondering if you can fit in a pedicure, and will they come out to the pool to give you one.
You can also do what we did and have a bone-crunching massage from a large, muscular fellow.
The insidious thing is that, what with the swimming, and the fruit, and the massage, and the constant harping, we mean friendly and positive interest, of our California chums, we are feeling better and happier than ever before.
So we find ourself at something of a crossroads. Sure, we love New York, and not just in that heart-on-a-tee-shirt way either. We've lived there for most of our life. But California, with its swaying palms, and Santa Cruz, with its swaying locals, is calling to us. Unfortunately, what it is saying sounds like "Say, girlie-girl, vy don't you come to Caliefornya and make something of your fat, pasty body? Drop und gif me ten!"
We'll have to get back to you.