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A Day In CA: My Dream Blog

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A Day in CA
I am jarred awake by the insistent groan of my vibrating cell phone alarm. Ninja reflexes honed by the desire to respect my obliging landlords get quiet restored in a split second. I slip out of my sleeping bag and yank the cold chain leading to my light bulb. I pull on some gym shorts and a well-used T-shirt, grab shoes and my backpack, and open the sliding doors of the walk-in closet that has become my bedroom. I sneak down the stairs and out the front door, where the California sunrise greets me as I put on my shoes.
Itís a little less than a mile to the YMCA where my yoga class will soon begin. I decide to travel without music this morning, instead listening to the reliable swell of the Pacific Ocean and the occasional early-rising commuter. I hope my iPod doesnít mind too much. I wonder if it might be too snobby to get along with its neighbors: a bag of unsalted peanuts, a can of tuna, two tennis rackets, and a used paperback book that promises to teach me Spanish in ten minutes a day.
Jogging to the tennis park only takes a few minutes. I hurry to meet my Tuesday morning tennis partner. Heís a forty something middle manager, endlessly amused by my elective unemployment. We exchange brief pleasantries before warming up and eventually starting a set. My 6-3 win takes almost an hour. Heís obviously been practicing. My newfound consistency, a side effect of playing four hours a day, is downright rapturous.
I finish my morning workout with several footwork drills and search for a sunny area of grass. I peel off my sweat drenched shirt and plop down to enjoy a well earned brunch. The now familiar tuna and peanuts are surprisingly satisfying, and I start pondering if I should finish the meal with a piece of fruit or some crisp vegetables when I stop by the store. My iPod sighs with relief as I remove it from its lower class exile. I listen to my shuffling library, now with an increasing amount of Spanish pop songs, as I head towards the Albertsonís and eventually the beach.
I conveniently finish my two mile walk to the beach at the same time as I finish my fruit (an apple was the big winner today). I smile at the sight of the ocean, and settle in against a log I recently named Piney. Piney would normally be mightily offended at such a juvenile and wildly inaccurate name, but being long dead, he doesnít mind too much. I take off my socks and shoes and sigh contentedly as I sink my feet into the warm sand. I dive into my Spanish lessons for the day, speaking aloud for the benefit of my old friends, the sand and the sea. The sand is very impressed with my pronunciation. The sea has heard better.

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  1. ponchi101's Avatar
    Downright envious of your situation! Enjoy!