Here is one reason to live in California:

GRAPES GRAPES GRAPES.

You notice how we could not keep from ravaging them on the walk home from the store.

You never get grapes like these in the north; instead, you get horrific hothouse globulets with thick bitter skins, all the exact uniform shade of green. You can shut your eyes and imagine you're eating cold balloons. These dudes, in contrast, are tiny: maybe a centimeter tall. They are sweet; they have thin, tender skins. Best of all, they have clearly been ripened outside, on a vine: their color varies throughout the bunch from pale green to yellow to blush to freckled, in accordance with the actual sun.

The sun is another thing we have in California. I am not exactly happy about it in a daily basis, but if it's going to give me grapes like this, I guess I can just acquire a collection of hats.

There is, of course, another way to have grapes:

I made mine extra fruity with delicious blue-blackberry juice. Maybe we should just call it "bruise juice". In any case, this combination was far, far better than you perhaps expect. Of course, maybe you drink fruit-based cocktails on a regular basis. In our case, we have mimosas quite enough to wish to expand on the field.