Ocean Beach

Yesterday I had one of the best days of my life. With new gusto, I did what I felt. 
   And no wonder. I had a long glorious uninterrupted sleep in the comfy Motel Six. The A/C in the room kept any toxins out of my air filter. I thanked God for giving my another day, and remembered the words of  Rabbi Carlback and  "treat each day as if it were the second to the last day of your life."
   Refreshed, I continued to learn about Picasso and editing my Trojan pictures. Chris, a retired San Diego State professor, donates each Thursday morning to the Encinitas' Senior Center. She taught computer science at that school. It felt great to straighten, and clean my football pictures.
    Yet my legs spoke up as they usually do. George hightail it to Balboa Park. You can't miss this dance. I rode the 5 freeway and got off on Tenth Avenue. After a few left turns, President's Way took me to the parking lot.  
    I had time to buy a three dollar chili bowl at the San Diego  Hall of Champions. That is where pictures of famous San Diego stars can be found along with taped narratives from recordings. You push a button and you can hear about the person you are looking at.
    I walked across the lot to to the Bay Club and played a few ditties on the piano before entering the ballroom. It was twelve thirty so lessons had begun. I grabbed English and used her a a rag doll to learn a new step. I can't remember when having so much fun. Why I danced with a few other fillies and after about one hour, I had to leave.
Ocean Beach was my next stop, known as OB to surfers. I consider it one of the finest surfing beaches in Southern California.  I parked my car at the Old Town rode the bus until my stop Cable Street appeared.I needed to make fliers for my up-and-coming book. After the print shop, I decided to eat lunch at the Wow Cafe, and what a mistake.
   The Ocean Beach parking lot held many campers or trucks with shells. parking lot was full and a sign read that it closed from two to four each night. I felt free as the air as I mounted the steps to the pier. What looked like a too-young homeless boy  lay on the beach. He was fast asleep and wore only trunks to hide him from the heat of the day.
    It was a low tide day. A long stretch of seaweed and black rocks told me it was low tide. No longer did the waves lash the coastal walls. A few tourists tried to remove the sea urchins from below. It was a hot summery day when I entered the not restaurant.
    I ordered the eleven dollar fish salad. A cool air conditioning room was not on the menu but I did not mind. The salad plate came while I read a discarded New York Times. Lettuce and croutons covered my plate. Only six or seven slices of fish on the top. Over the paper plate was a wrapping the held lettuce, croutons and six thin slices of fish. Then I knew why  why it was called the  Eight of my dollars went for the vie Wow view, and the two left for the meager fish salad I knew then to come only for breakfast.  . 
    I returned on Cable Street and walked south to my #35 bus stop. The buses come every thirty minutes or so. A man my age, old, perched himself on the patio with his computer. I entered to pry information from the desk. A gal outside shouted. 
    "Can I assist you?"  The young sun-burned damsel smiled. She sat with a buddy.
    "Yes, I wish to find out how much the rooms here cost?" 
     "We have two rooms for one person. They are seventy a night. The others carry up to four to a room and cost $35 for an evening." 
     "Last time here they included breakfast."
      "Still do." 
    I thanked the young gal and took up residence on a sun bleached bus bench on the sunny side of the street. The #35 returned me to Old Town. I placed my newspaper and book inside my trunk and left for the Patio Restaurant. I hoped that Augustine played some of my favorite tunes. 
    Luck was with me. The best guitar player in San Diego played several of his and of course Guantilamera. Now I am not sure of the spelling but his guitar and voice was all that I needed to make it a memorable day.