A warm April Sunday afternoon and I am driving to the beach. Since I am still learning, I don’t have to get up early for the good surf.
This week has been so horrible and the thought of lying in the sand for a while brings a smile to my face. I have been going to the same spot all winter and now I am getting to know the lay of the sand. I know where there is a dip in sand as I walk out into the water, so I try to avoid it.
I found out this week, through a series of mean-spirited emails from some former friends, what they really thought of me. I have tried not to let it get to me, but the words are ringing in my ears. “Stupid, her work will never be published. Just a stupid receptionist, she has never earned her money. You live in a crappy house and a crappy neighborhood.” While I know these wholesale generalizations are not true, I also know something else: when under stress, a person’s true character is revealed.
While these things were said with little provocation, it brought up sentiments that I was not prepared for. Here I am really the office manager at my job, and the woman and her husband who said those mean things don’t know that. This woman is also not impressed by me.
I have traveled to Europe quite a bit and have a few nice things, it’s true I live in a modest house in a modest neighborhood. My husband and I have achieved a measure of success but have not been ones to flaunt it. I don’t drive a Mercedes and I don’t live in a big house in the ‘right’ neighborhood. All of this is quite on purpose.
I have never wanted to be that pretentious. We have owned houses in very upscale neighborhoods and stayed there, one thing I have found out is this, and the people that live there are so fussy and they always want everyone to be quiet. In short it’s no fun to live there.
In my neighborhood in Fullerton, with mostly Hispanics, there is always a party going on. Yes, I have to drive slowly since there are tons of children that don’t seem to know that sidewalks are for walking and the paved road is for cars, yet there is life and humor and real people here- something I don’t want to trade for gilded trophy cars.
The fact that this very materialistic woman is not impressed with me is a mark of success. It means I haven’t been ostentatious. It means I have done my job well. No one knows what a fabulous life I lead. They have no idea I host champagne brunches and that my guest are treated to the best brie cheese in the county or that I make a mean Cosmo. I could go on, but I won’t
There is a small crowd at the beach. I walk my board out to the sand and put down my beach bag. This weekly ritual has helped me put things into perspective; I mean what do I really need? My board, my bag, something to read, anything more and it’s just too heavy to carry.
My board is waxed and I zip up my wetsuit. The Pacific is in front of me and I start to walk out. Some of what they said has done its job, it does hurt. Dear God, help me think of a reason to go on, to continue to write and keep sending out the first chapter of my fiction project. In the last few months, I have been getting rejection letters and sending out “Thank-you’s” like a good girl.
I wade out into the water and the endless horizon is in front of me. The water is up to my waist and I put the board down and get on. Then it comes to me; I am going to keep writing to prove them wrong. Admittedly not the best reason, but reason enough.
The first wave hits the board and I paddle over it, a small cold splash of saltwater hits my face and I taste it. The next small wave comes and I keep paddling. Before I know it I’m out past the jetty. Some more water hits the nap of my neck; even that shock of cold water feels good.
It’s not a good day for surf and paddling out over these baby waves is more like putting my board in a big swimming pool, but I’m not here to get big waves. I’m just here to work on my form. Keeping my legs together, centered on the board and strong back, paddle.
I get tired I paddle to the shore and pull my board out. It’s getting late in the day. I take a long, last-look at the ocean before I leave and thank God for such a wonderful view, it’s hard to leave. I’ll be back next Sunday.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Friday, January 18, 2008
Weather
One of the most tiresome conversations in the world is when people complain about the weather! I know when you have nothing to say some one it is a safe bet and polite to mention the weather, but complaining endlessly is just a waste of time.
We all mention the weather and we watch the new reports to see what to wear the next day. I guess I just can’t stand having to endure some one going on and on about something they have no control over it.
As it is I live in Southern California, known for its good weather. In my travels people ask me silly questions like “does it every really rain there?” referencing a song. I tell them yes, it does, but it seems to get better by the weekend. Sometimes is does feel that way. Looking at miles of shoreline helps pick me up, and feel like there are endless possibilities.
I question my own optimism sometimes and I have to think; maybe it has to do with where I live. I do get down sometimes, everyone does. But the fact of the matter here in SoCal, it will be sunny again tomorrow. Can things really be that bad? They will infact get better, right?
My friends who live in places with long winters don’t share my ‘sunny moods’ and they get the blues for a lot longer. They have months where they have to stay in and be quite and it too cold to go out. The winters are always this way and will be that way again. So they have such a different outlook on life, as if they feel things will get bad and then maybe worse.
It’s not that either is more correct. (Unless you ask people that think they are right and they will tell you what’s what. So don’t ask.) It just seems that if you live in a warmer area of the earth the people there are happier and friendly. The ones that live in colder areas can be warm, once you get to know them.
One thing I do know, I don’t go on and on about the weather. I like it when it warm and I love cold blustery days. I am just glad I am alive and live in So Cal; I know the rest of the country is so jealous. ;-)
We all mention the weather and we watch the new reports to see what to wear the next day. I guess I just can’t stand having to endure some one going on and on about something they have no control over it.
As it is I live in Southern California, known for its good weather. In my travels people ask me silly questions like “does it every really rain there?” referencing a song. I tell them yes, it does, but it seems to get better by the weekend. Sometimes is does feel that way. Looking at miles of shoreline helps pick me up, and feel like there are endless possibilities.
I question my own optimism sometimes and I have to think; maybe it has to do with where I live. I do get down sometimes, everyone does. But the fact of the matter here in SoCal, it will be sunny again tomorrow. Can things really be that bad? They will infact get better, right?
My friends who live in places with long winters don’t share my ‘sunny moods’ and they get the blues for a lot longer. They have months where they have to stay in and be quite and it too cold to go out. The winters are always this way and will be that way again. So they have such a different outlook on life, as if they feel things will get bad and then maybe worse.
It’s not that either is more correct. (Unless you ask people that think they are right and they will tell you what’s what. So don’t ask.) It just seems that if you live in a warmer area of the earth the people there are happier and friendly. The ones that live in colder areas can be warm, once you get to know them.
One thing I do know, I don’t go on and on about the weather. I like it when it warm and I love cold blustery days. I am just glad I am alive and live in So Cal; I know the rest of the country is so jealous. ;-)
Friday, January 11, 2008
First Day
I spent the first day of this year alone at the beach. It was cold and the water was freezing and somehow I still loved it.
It can be difficult to share the beach that has been yours all winter to the summer crowd. It makes you feel like they shouldn’t be there. I don’t know why, there are only miles and miles of ocean here in Southern California and plenty of room. I guess we all get a little territorial at times.
It was really windy by my house buy not at the beach. It was so clear you could see all the mountains and Catalina looked closer than ever. There were only a few people out and only three of us in the water, but it were fun just the same.
I had to put my wet suit on before even attempting to go into the ocean. I still did, just like I did all last winter. Last summer I had to put on my ipod to drown out the conversations of teenagers. Boys and girls that talked too much about nothing much, this time it was nice and quite. There was one dog near buy, but he wasn’t too loud. This time I listen to music just to relax.
At my house there are six puppies to make lots of noise. It was really nice to have some peace and quite. I wasn’t hung over and it didn’t really feel like a new year, but I hadn’t been to the beach in a few weeks and I just really needed to get out.
It was just a brief visit and I had to get back home, and pick up the ham dinner I had ordered. Even with all the big meals around this time of year I was able to lose four pounds. I made sure not to over eat and to keep doing some type of exercise.
I took a deep breath and gathered up my things. The smell of salt water stayed in my hair all the way home. There were only two cops that I saw, so I was able to do 80 all the way home. Not a bad way to start off the first day of the year.
It can be difficult to share the beach that has been yours all winter to the summer crowd. It makes you feel like they shouldn’t be there. I don’t know why, there are only miles and miles of ocean here in Southern California and plenty of room. I guess we all get a little territorial at times.
It was really windy by my house buy not at the beach. It was so clear you could see all the mountains and Catalina looked closer than ever. There were only a few people out and only three of us in the water, but it were fun just the same.
I had to put my wet suit on before even attempting to go into the ocean. I still did, just like I did all last winter. Last summer I had to put on my ipod to drown out the conversations of teenagers. Boys and girls that talked too much about nothing much, this time it was nice and quite. There was one dog near buy, but he wasn’t too loud. This time I listen to music just to relax.
At my house there are six puppies to make lots of noise. It was really nice to have some peace and quite. I wasn’t hung over and it didn’t really feel like a new year, but I hadn’t been to the beach in a few weeks and I just really needed to get out.
It was just a brief visit and I had to get back home, and pick up the ham dinner I had ordered. Even with all the big meals around this time of year I was able to lose four pounds. I made sure not to over eat and to keep doing some type of exercise.
I took a deep breath and gathered up my things. The smell of salt water stayed in my hair all the way home. There were only two cops that I saw, so I was able to do 80 all the way home. Not a bad way to start off the first day of the year.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Parts is Parts
As a child of divorce I always wanted my weekends with my father to be fun, Disneyland and beach time. I wanted it to be a big deal, since we didn’t get much time together.
It turned out to be boring and normal. My dad re-married and there was my older stepbrother and two stepsisters. So to them, I was the pesky kid who was too young to play Monopoly with and just old enough to tell on them when they did wrong.
Sometimes my dad would take my real sister and I to run errands with him on Saturday mornings, after cartoons. We ended up at Pep-boys and other car part shops, and I was bored to no end. I hated it and couldn’t get the smell of tires out of my noise. I wished I had a nosegay or some perfume on my wrist to smell.
He used to get this beer that looked like the yellow Pennzoil can. I know he had to use a can opener with the triangle part to pop it open. I am sure they don’t make them any more. It wasn’t that he was a gear-head; he just tried to fix what he could on his own. I remember that he used to get the beer at the same time as the parts and would drink it during and after fixing the car.
The irony is that now I work at Fullerton Vintage and buy parts all the time. The kids that work at the local Auto Zone see me all the time. We also get parts from Mick at the Scooter Shop, in Orange. I am there several times a week. As well as trips to Ace hardware and Cycle Gear, is there more? Yes, Internet shopping, all for scooter parts. So if everything happens for a reason, were those boring Saturday’s preparation for my life now?
Quite possibly, at any rate, I still get bored. Not that I am complaining, I just remember to bring a book to read while my boss and good friend Chris gets the things we need. I finished reading 6 books last year. I also have my ipod to listen to while the boys get parts and talk about scooter stuff. So if anything, I have learned how to entertain myself while the men take care of business.
I am not close with my father and he knows none of this. I guess I don’t want give him the satisfaction of being proud of me for turning our Saturday ritual into something practical, since he has been absent most of my life and can’t take the credit for bringing me up. Plus if I call him, I know he won’t want to hear about what I had to buy. After all…….Parts is parts.
It turned out to be boring and normal. My dad re-married and there was my older stepbrother and two stepsisters. So to them, I was the pesky kid who was too young to play Monopoly with and just old enough to tell on them when they did wrong.
Sometimes my dad would take my real sister and I to run errands with him on Saturday mornings, after cartoons. We ended up at Pep-boys and other car part shops, and I was bored to no end. I hated it and couldn’t get the smell of tires out of my noise. I wished I had a nosegay or some perfume on my wrist to smell.
He used to get this beer that looked like the yellow Pennzoil can. I know he had to use a can opener with the triangle part to pop it open. I am sure they don’t make them any more. It wasn’t that he was a gear-head; he just tried to fix what he could on his own. I remember that he used to get the beer at the same time as the parts and would drink it during and after fixing the car.
The irony is that now I work at Fullerton Vintage and buy parts all the time. The kids that work at the local Auto Zone see me all the time. We also get parts from Mick at the Scooter Shop, in Orange. I am there several times a week. As well as trips to Ace hardware and Cycle Gear, is there more? Yes, Internet shopping, all for scooter parts. So if everything happens for a reason, were those boring Saturday’s preparation for my life now?
Quite possibly, at any rate, I still get bored. Not that I am complaining, I just remember to bring a book to read while my boss and good friend Chris gets the things we need. I finished reading 6 books last year. I also have my ipod to listen to while the boys get parts and talk about scooter stuff. So if anything, I have learned how to entertain myself while the men take care of business.
I am not close with my father and he knows none of this. I guess I don’t want give him the satisfaction of being proud of me for turning our Saturday ritual into something practical, since he has been absent most of my life and can’t take the credit for bringing me up. Plus if I call him, I know he won’t want to hear about what I had to buy. After all…….Parts is parts.
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