However, today I was driving John’s convertible for reasons unimportant to anyone but us and I, as is my custom when I borrow John’s car (unless it is raining), had the top down. I had an errand to run. While driving to and from this errand, with a quick stop at the grocery store, it occurred to me that it was a really really nice day. REALLY nice. The kind that makes you realize it is the first day of summer and that somewhere people are sweaty and hot but here it is 72 degrees and there is a slight breeze and not a cloud or fogbank to be seen. The kind of day that makes the people who live here willing to pay hundreds of dollars per square foot for rent. And then I thought, “I could go to the beach! One of the benefits of not being able to find a damn job has GOT to be the ability to just GO to the beach!” So I did! I came home, shoved the groceries in the fridge, coated the exposed portions of myself in SPF billion, shoved a book in my purse, grabbed a jacket and headed back out.
The drive down Judah (a street I prefer to the more popular Irving because I like passing the Muni trains in my Mini because it makes me feel, for a few seconds, like I am in "The Italian Job") towards the ocean was nice. I managed, between radio station hopping (note to self: get Ipod adaptor installed in John’s car), to find happy driving music and pretty soon I could see the ocean. Still no fog. San Francisco can be tricky like that, beautiful in one spot and then you get out to the coast and the temperature drops 20 degrees and you’re being knocked over by rushing fog and your eyes start running and your nose joins in and you’re like “never mind” and you go back home and put on your flannel jammies muttering “fucking microclimates”. Or you get to the zoo and you can't see any of the animals because they're all hiding from view in their warm little cubbyholes. The lemur exhibit on a cold day? Is a "trees and ropes and a pond" exhibit.
Luckily where we live is a pretty good indicator of the weather at the beach because we live on the mountain (or hill, I suppose) where the fog rolling in from the ocean gets stuck. Which we totally love by the way. Spending 18 years growing up in Bakersfield means that I don’t think I have yet to answer “Yes” to the question “aren’t you cold?” Maybe the next time someone asks me if I’m cold I should try out “Yes, thank you!” and see how that goes over. I’m still SO busy being grateful it is NOT 110 degrees that to me being swamped by fog feels like a cool refreshing hug. A hug that totally ruins my hair, but a hug nonetheless. But I digress (of course, if I didn’t, this blog would have some really damn short entries). My point was… ummm.. . oh yeah… so if WE have fog, usually the coast has fog too. But today there was no fog.
I drove up and down the Great Highway a few miles in each direction because just driving around in a convertible NEXT to the ocean is fabulous (although also ruinous to your hair) and then I parked. I put the top up, grabbed my stuff and crossed the street and there I was: at the beach. The sunny fabulous wonderful beach. I took a brief moment to berate myself for not doing this more often and then set off towards and unoccupied log in the distance. I used it to form the back part of a sand lounge chair, leaned up against it, sat down on my jacket, stretched my legs out and just sat there for a while watching the waves, the seagulls and the fisherman who were spaced out every fifty or so yards in front of me. Then I pulled out my book and read for an hour. It was SO decadent. When I got tired of reading I sat there another ten minutes or so just breathing it all in and then headed back to the car. Feeling great. It was like I’d somehow snuck a weekend away at the coast into a two-hour period. I put the top back down and headed home promising myself that I have GOT to do that more often. And that I’d go home and blog about how I am dumb and spoiled. Mission accomplished. Time for some iced tea, I think.
BTW: Those of you reading this that are NOT 3.9 miles from the ocean and who kind of would like to throw sand in my face right now? Please electronically poke me to go to the beach every so often in case I get dumb and forget again. Thanks.
*In self defense most of my life “the beach” was NOT something I really wanted to be close to. In Bakersfield we weren’t close to anything except oil fields so if I had to choose somewhere to drive several hours to it would not be the ocean. The forest? Yes, please. A lake? With boats? Perfect. Someplace that requires I display my glow in the dark pale body into a bathing suit? PASS. When I was growing up it was hard to even find ANY sunscreen as tanning was still in. Yes I am old enough to remember tanning oil commercials on TV. I am genetically precluded from tanning (burn, peal, repeat) which makes me genetically predisposed to skin cancer (yeeks) and after several YEARS of being teased about how pale I am (genetically pre-disposed to being Goth too, I guess) and getting BURNED I pretty much decided that I just wasn’t ever putting a bathing suit on again. And this was back when I was a size five. Black lingerie indoors? SURE! Neon bikini outdoors? HELLS NO. Not even back in college for my luscious, British, speedo-sporting lifeguard boyfriend. I met him at the pool wearing a hoodie, cut off jeans and Docs. A couple years ago I actually wore a bathing suit for 45 minutes at the New York New York hotel pool on my girls weekend in Vegas. I covered every inch of myself with SPF 45 and I STILL burned. Screw that. Once I discovered COLD beaches my attitude changed. If you need to wear a jacket while you’re walking along the sand, THAT is my kind of beach. Let's go! If there are blond women laying on towels wearing butt floss? Count me out.
