Friday, August 5, 2011
I grew up on the sandy beaches of the east coast and admit that the dunes, the sea oats, the balmy water and clean, soft sand are beautiful.
But I prefer the Pacific now.
I took Sophie to see The Homeopath in Santa Monica this afternoon and then drove west a couple of miles, parked at our favorite beach in Ocean Park and walked down to the ocean. The sky was a brilliant blue and the surf was loud, the waves high and the water cold.
I like it that way.
A man walked into the ocean in a tiny bikini bottom that was printed with the American flag. Only in LA, a woman I knew that I had run into remarked. Yeah, I was just in South Carolina at the beach and you wouldn't have seen that, I added.
Or maybe you would but it would have been the Confederate flag.
Afterward, we sat at a little cafe on the beach and watched the people roll and skate and run and walk by. We ate a vegetable quesadilla until it got too cold.
Yes, you heard me right. Too cold for bare shoulders and legs -- about 65 degrees or so as the sun set and the water sparkled.