Four-thirty finds me beachside, sprawled on Noah and David's multicolored beach towel, camera in hand, in the hopes of catching one of what Noah describes as Redondo Beach's spectacular sunsets. They're pretty picky out here, these sunset connoisseurs. Knowing that tomorrow, the sun will - yet again - set into the ocean means they're not nearly so excited by its daily happening as someone who will only see a maximum of six such occurrences before flying back east again.
Despite my laughter and my joking about California weather to my friends, it does get cold here, although not as cold as the locals would like you to think. The beach winds at sunset have teeth sharpened over miles of ocean; they chew past the breakers and roar onto the sand, looking for something to devour.
Me.
