San Diego has a lot going for it. It’s a great city with a world-famous zoo, great museums, fun harbor areas, a vibrant downtown, and the neat and tidy U.S. Navy strutting its stuff. Like every large city, San Diego has districts with distinct personalities. My preference is Pacific Beach … and not just because I surf. I like the atmosphere. It’s a bit rowdy with college kids, surfers, and beach bums, but it’s a fun crowd. In fact, fun might be their sole objective.
|USS Ronald Reagan (CVN-76)|
The surf is pretty good, as well. I’m at Pacific Beach now and had a good morning surfing. The day was gorgeous. Sunny, warm, with a slight wind that just rippled the surface of the ocean. The waves were small ... knee to waist high, and you had to wait for the waist-high waves. Nice shape, though. I thought I did well, with two really good rides and no embarrassments on my other waves.
The whole day reminded me of my youth. What my mother thought was my wasted youth. I never believed that. I was having the time of my life, and how could that be a waste. When I see teenagers in the water, I wonder if they know how lucky they are to live the Southern California beach lifestyle. We knew way back then, and I bet they know today. (My favorite tee shirt read, “There’s no Life East of Pacific Coast Highway.)
What does all this have to do with writing? Not a damn thing. I just had a good day in the waves and wanted to blog about it. This is what happens when Steve Dancy is in proofreading. When the character’s away, the writer plays.