I'm in training again. Unlike the last time we did this, when my expectations were to be reduced to tears at least twice, I'm having a good time. The lunch-time visit to the winery up the road may have helped my mood. The hummingbirds outside the hotel window this morning may also have had to do with it.

Solvang has two needlework stores, a quilt store, and a spinning and weaving shop just across the street from my hotel. Is this a great village, or what?
Another reason I'm in such a happy place today is that the place I'm in is not my office. Despite a three-hour layover at LAX, where you cannot smoke outside the terminal, and a twenty minute flight on a prop-driven puddle jumper, the flying itself wasn't bad, either.

Let me go back to the no smoking rule for a minute. What's up with that? Are they afraid that smoking will damage the air quality at the airport? I mean, jeez, the air was brown and visible when I got there. Air you can see, what a concept.

Maybe it was the airport, maybe it was being in the puddle jumper annex, but another thing I noticed about California was that there is either a lot less plastic surgery than one is led to believe, or the surgeons out here are infinitely better at their jobs than the ones in Miami. I didn't see the same quantity of obvious noses, tits and facelifts than I do at home.

And the radio out here! Wow! It had new music, and Tejano music and classical music and live interviews with interesting people. Except for that thing about fire seasons, mud slides, mountain lions and the occasional earthquake, this could be a cool place to live. I prefer my natural disasters to have a timeline attached, like: "You have a hurricane heading your way, it should be here in a week." And then there's the price of housing. Even here in the valley, housing is not affordable. For what would buy a mini-mansion with a lot in over-priced Miami, you can get a cottage on a zero lot line here.

More observations later.