The Mission Valley area in San Diego is hot and dry most of the time. The 8 freeway winds around it as does the San Diego river. My lungs love dry but clean air.
The Motel Six is at the foot of Hotel Circle, where there is a sting of hotels and shopping centers I needed several days to recuperate from my insidious bronchial infection. About 53 dollars a night is what I pay for peace and bliss during the holiday season. Last week's typical day is described below - but those who know me can find no two days alike. In an earlier blog, I mentioned that San Diego is like dame wearing a different Victoria's Secret every day. Also I will video much of my work from now on. You may need sunscreen to watch me.
Like always, I woke up at about one o'clock and picked up my book about the life of Queen Victoria. Also I turned on my transistor radio to hear classical music. I began my new day at five thirty. Inside the warm shower I shampoo and shave. You see, I need to always look good - that is ever since my two grand daughters Summer and Spring were born.
Also I am thankful my number two daughter has given up Mr Nicotine and unpacked her depression pills. She now sees everything through rose-colored glasses.
My Motel Six spills out to the eight freeway. With a few turns I land on the eight headed east. I keep in the right lane that spits me out on the #168 downtown freeway. I exit on University Blvd and after a two quick right turns find my disabled parking lot in front of the Scripps Mercy Hospital. I take my left-overs from a earlier dinner and proceed to the cafeteria. At the counter waits my spinach breakfast along with two scrambled eggs.
"Sir is that all you wish? What about the usual two strips of bacon?"
"Thank you for asking. But last night I shared a dinner with my Jewish friend. In his honor I will eat Jewish this morning. At that moment I am thinking about our dinner and how the lawyers at Twentieth Century Fox picked the pockets of the studios new owners. But this story is not ripe for plucking just yet."
The daily medication has removed the snug film covering my bronchial tubes. This film is replayed every fall when the cold damp air is feasted on by these nosy sequestered bacteria. The dust and other pollutants are just what they need to feast on. But not today. I make sure to huddle myself in central air buildings.
I look over my manuscript and savor every spinach bite. Somehow, the greens taste better with eggs. I will try to wean myself off of toast. With the coffee it cost me just five cents over three dollars. The salad bar is only .35 an ounce which makes it a half as much as the one at Ralph's.
Dr. George now makes his way to the medical library. Soon I hope to unveil the causes of dementia, asthma, and other diseases. But not today. The New York Times welcomes me to read about how the C.I.A. water boarded, kept prisoners awake for days, or made them eat from their rectums. No longer do I trust the government as our Statue of Liberty has run out of Kleenex.
I leave and go west to the Pacific Highway. A few bumps tell me I have passed the rail tracks. I made another right and another and park my car at the Old Town Station. I remove my nap sack and place the tuna sandwich and writing material inside it. A ride on the Green Line takes me to the Imperial Transit Station where I sit and eat some of my left over pineapple slices.
Several hundred Mexicans climb aboard going the other way. They are the workers of San Diego. None carry E.B.T. cards. Most work in hotels, the airport, or restaurants. Many wear construction metal hats. All serve San Diego and without them buildings would be built, ,and you might have to wait to get a burger at at the eateries.
The rest of my day I spent at the Central Library on their eight floor computers before climbing the stairs to the California room and the microfilms. My day is only half over at about two o'clock but you will have to wait since my time on the eight floor is soon to run out.
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