Monday was just going to be an easy prep day of shopping and perhaps a little pre-packing for our short Tuesday and Wednesday trip to Crystal Cove, a scenic state park of 1930’s era cottages along Laguna Beach’s oceanfront. Monday morning, however, my phone buzzed the calendar notice, “Crystal Cove.” “Hey, I thought you said […]

The seal lay on its back, taking in the sights and sounds of the inlet, flippers lolling lazily out of the water, missing only a tiki drink by its side. Just ahead a dolphin frolicked in the inlet, breaching between the party cruisers and commercial boats offering their discounts for burials at sea, among other rental options.

For Carol and me, irrational fears of coronavirus have replaced our irrational fears of dementia from what I like to call our “everyday” neuroses.

I was fishing around for an idea for a blog the other day. I wanted to keep it personal, but Carol, I think, was right that I leave My battles with ear wax between me and my PCP. Then, while daydreaming through the coronavirus news one evening, it suddenly struck me:

The ocean provides the best backdrop for idle staring, because everyone does it. The private restaurant concession at the state park where Carol and I have stayed overnight several times provides lounge chairs and umbrellas for no other purpose than to sit and stare at the changeless blue or gray horizon, depending on the cloud cover.

When a potato sits too long in a pantry, it starts to grow sprouts. Fearing the same might happen to me on the couch, Carol prevailed upon me to make a road trip to Yorba Linda and the Richard Nixon Presidential Library and Museum. The Library was celebrating the 50th anniversary of Nixon’s first State of the Union address in 1970.

The clue that my calculations on the day were significantly off was when we walked passed a parking lot snug against the San Ysidro border station. Carol wanted to show me Mexico, one country I had never visited before.