It's a bad sign when she asks me at dinner what I do for fun in Orange County and I don't have an answer. Any answer. I sat there stupid, drawing a total blank. Fun? OC? When is the last time I did something for fun that was actually IN Orange County? I haven't been to a movie in months, a theatrical event in years, and a bar in weeks. I rarely even go to my old health club any more as I do not work in the neighborhood and most of my friends are no longer regulars.

Orange County and I have become that couple we all know where neither party is happy but both are just too established or lethargic or afraid to break up. It's not a relationship any more. It's familiarity.

OC, I'll always love you. But it's time for me to go.

Addendum: Of course, on days like today, I know why I have stuck around so long. This afternoon, in the nearly 80 degree sunshine, as I motored my VFR up the long stretch of PCH in Huntington Beach under a clear blue sky, I pulled off onto the shore along the Huntington cliffs and watched as a dozen or so happy souls in black neoprene bobbed up and down in the blue water, riding through the smooth, green, head-high barrels as six-foot outside sets rolled in like blue corduroy, all fuelled by the warm offshore breeze and a low tide.