The deal was sealed on a drive along Sunset Boulevard, an asphalt wonder spanning 22 miles. Arriving at the Pacific, I glimpsed toothpaste-white sand beaches the width of football fields, bolted from the rented VW bug and ran into the sea. Afloat in the summer-warmed Pacific, I melted into a puddle of tears.  I was 18 and born-again: a California girl. Though I would continue shuttling back and forth to New York City for work and life, I knew I was done with frigid winters and dreary weather.