All over the blogosphere, I see ads for "Santa Barbara, the American Riviera." But not on my blog. Noooo. I get ads about drunk driving and mental illness (oh, shut UP!)
But not for Santa Barbara. Even though I was born in Cottage Hospital and so was my mom. And oh yeah, my grandmother worked at Cottage in 1925 when the big quake struck. But I guess we're NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU NOW, eh, Santa Barbara?
My mother grew up next door to Baseball Hall of Famer Eddie Matthews on the Santa Barbara mesa, but who cares about that?
I have strolled the jasmine-scented streets, danced at the County Bowl, watched the fireworks on 4th of July from a 62-foot yacht in the harbor.
I could tell people how lovely Santa Barbara is when the sun sets over the water and the mountains turn pink. I could mention the clouds of blue and white California lilacs that bloom at the Botanic Gardens in the spring. I might even make a list of my favorite restaurants in Santa Barbara, but I guess I will skip it and tell you not to drive drunk. Because that is the kind of blogger I am.