This weekend we went on a seven mile bike ride (not very far, but far to us!), and as we rode home through the quiet neighborhoods, pointing out our dream bungalows to each other, it dawned on me that somehow, somewhere, I’d come to feel at home in LA. We ate good food, saw good art, and had that perfect balance of time at home and time off our butts outside. Recipe for a good weekend. Sure, I could do without these gloomy mornings that make it tough to get out of bed, but thankfully by late afternoon the sun is shining golden enough for a good magic hour.