My friends make fun of me for going home to Orange County so often and call me a baby. I tell them that I’ll tattle on them and pull their hair if they don’t leave me alone, then I show them pictures like this:

Glorious Laguna Beach, 10 minutes from where I grew up. I’m not trying to sound braggy (lie) but I can’t picture a more beautiful place. So next time you see me at JFK, mumbling about how I desperately need to lay in the sun and shop at Target, you’ll know where I’m headed.