A Peachy Day in Santa Monica

It felt good to take a break and enjoy another morning in Santa Monica, the gateway to Los Angeles. The number 7 Blue Pico bus dropped me off on Broadway and fourth. I followed the ocean breeze to Colorado Street and down a few blocks to MacDonald's.
   Hungry as a tiger, I ordered the Deluxe breakfast: pancakes, eggs, buns, a sausage, and jelly. The usual homeless one stood by the door, hoping to catch a tourist. The tourists don't know what to make of all of these homeless. In front of me, a black hooded one dressed in rags took out his wallet to order a coffee. Like most of them, they had their EBT card.
   I opened a glass door in the back and took up a patio seat. It felt good to give up coffee for water, and I felt a new kind of relaxation come over me. No longer in s rush, I savored every morsel of it and finally went to the pancakes. I soaked the pancakes in syrup and gingerly savored each bite full of energy. The six dollar meal was well worth it. A local paper advertised the Wednesday Farmers Market.
   After busing my remains, I walked a block west. At almost eight, the Sub had business Across from me on an island bench a sleepy one stood up and mouthed a few obscenities. I walked north in front of two large hotels and continued all the way to Santa Monica Blvd. I wondered if the church on Second Street still had those 12 step Al Anon meetings. Those meetings meant a lot to me then. Two produce trucks on Arizona told me the Farmer's market was in progress.I sat on the bench and watched a truck laden with mushroom boxes. Men were unloading boxes and taking them to a stand on Arizona.  I walked a bit further and saw a lady enter the church.
   "Miss, may I intrude on you and ask if Al Anon meets today."
   "Yes, follow me."
   Of course, at my age, I could not keep up with the lass who walked through a door, took the steps to the basement and made a right turn .In progress was a meeting of about thirty, of mixed ages, but full of hope and determination. A few shares reminded me of my own path to serenity  Since anonymity is the guts of the program, I will not speak about what they said. I connected with one who had lost her two babies to her lawyer husband and spent $300,000, She lost the case and sobbed.
   Apparently the meeting had begun at seven thirty so the one hour meeting ended at eight thirty. I helped in putting back the chairs and exited It felt good that these great meetings went on all week at the church...since I would be back.
   But Santa Monica just wouldn't be Santa Monica without the Farmer's Market. I saw a vender from Fresno and took a slice of a peach. It was out of my price range at four dollars a pound...but what the hell, it was my daughters 35th birthday.
   He picked out four juicy ones. I gave him a five and he returned a quarter. I just couldn't wait to savor the peach on a peachy day in downtown Santa Monica.


Nuts and bolts for today: Wouldn't it be great to make each day peachy.
  
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