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One day great hordes of sea lions may loll on the beach at Santa Monica, watching with liquid-eyed disinterest as ravens poke curiously at the skeletal remnants of amusement rides.
Michael Reed was a friend of mine. That was something I sometimes struggled to accept for reasons I'm not proud to admit.
Ventura's current dredging project will continue and continue and continue as long as we decide we want a harbor.
For thirteen years my car and I have had a splendid relationship. But now it may be over, and I'm taking it hard.
Less than two years after the first Asian-style night market made its debut in the San Gabriel Valley, the nocturnal bazaars are finally making their mark on the cultural landscape of Southern California.
The hills are not green. In places, they are not even brown. They look almost alkaline. Gray. Sickly, like something's bled from the land.
The Promise Zone designation from the White House struck me with great interest -- not only do I live there, but I'm a homegrown product of the area as well.
I realize I'm a little past the window for New Year's resolutions, but now I know you won't judge me. You might even thank me when you've finished reading.