Roaring against the wind
Thursday, July 10, 2008, 8:17 PM
A couple of Saturdays ago, I went to Santa Monica Beach toting bags full of food, drink and laying-on-the-sand gear: blanket, pillow, sunglasses, book.
Before I stepped foot outside my apartment, though, I slathered on the SPF 15. Which wasn't enough protection, just so you know, for someone of the albino race. Consider yourself warned, and never fricken mind that I should know better by now than to brave California sun rays without WD40.
Walking across sand was hard. I had to raise my thighs higher than I was used to, and I had to compensate for a shifting motion surface. I felt like a drunk duck. I was out of breath when we dropped the bamboo-woven cover, staked it with shoes and bags, and claimed our slice of territory. The wind was strong enough to rip off someone's toupee, so the claiming-of-the-territory part was a bit of struggle, but I go hee-haw in the face of wind. Not that anyone could hear me above the roar of the wind.
Which is kind of what I'm doing now. Roaring against the wind.