"Art is a kind of illness." — Giacomo Puccini

At home in San Francisco


 

Fall is in the air, and it’s rained extensively here over the past few weeks. San Francisco is one of those places where it is cold when everywhere else is hot, warm when everywhere is cold, and windy, always windy! Basically, there are only two seasons here: mild and wet, then cool and dry. When it rains, it really pours. When it is dry, it is dry for months at a time. But I love it all the time!

When I first moved here from San Diego on January 21, 1993—the day after President Bill Clinton was inaugurated—I had no idea how in love I would fall with this place.  It really is a magical oasis, the kind that dreams are made of, but I just call it home.

It’s been wild ride, to say the least. I even left town for a few years to go back to school at SDSU. After graduation, I took a job in Las Vegas, but San Francisco was always the place where I would return.


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