“Nobody swims up here,” said my godmother, when she took me to the beach on my last afternoon in California. Ha – Skye [surname redacted] swims anywhere. Fifty-degree waves? Balmy, when you’re from Vermont. Janice was happy to perch on a rock in her windbreaker; I pranced in the surf, feeling like Lewis and/or Clark. When I stripped to bra and panties and dove all the way in, no one was surprised. Then – back to Janice’s house in Occidental, dress in the dryer, and a few sushi rolls before boarding the Petaluma airport shuttle.