The Indifference of the Ocean

Saturday night we watched this amazing documentary called "Deep Water." In 1968 they had a race to see who could sail around the world alone. I won't spoil the ending, which was epic, but in the film they said that when you are alone on the water you realize the ocean is completely indifferent to you. The next morning we walked to church (yes, walked the 8 miles round trip) and a verse from a hymn stunned me. It seemed to condense the human experience into single line. "Time, like an ever rolling stream, soon bears us all away, we fly forgotten, as a dream, dies at the opening day."

Rainy Day LA

The last week has brought rain almost every day. Palm fronds are lying all over the street. Storm drains are backing up. Our swimming pool is brimming. I asked Tony how I could capture this in a photo to post on my blog. "Rain drops on the window," he quickly answered. I shot a bunch of different pictures but he was right, this is what we've been seeing for what seems like a long time.

Urban Hiking

Usually we drive hundreds of miles and then hike in the wilderness. But recently a friend gave me a GPS hiking unit that tracks the distance I walk, my speed and elevation gain. I love data -- and it's motivated me to develop some "urban hikes" that leave right from my front door. Yesterday, we did one better. We took light rail from Long Beach to Hollywood then walked into Griffith Park and along a hiking trail up to the observatory. Along the way we saw runners, families and dog walkers. The observatory was jammed and the exhibits were great. My favorite part was a handwritten sign: "Restrooms located near moon exhibit." We walked back into Hollywood and had coffee and pasteries in a hip cafe packed with Mac laptoppers. The ride back on light rail from Hollywood was under an hour! Now for the data: 4.3 miles hiked in 2 hours with 600 foot elevation gain.

Locally World Famous

I love corny sayings like "Locally World Famous." That's one of the reasons I like Chuck's Coffee Shop. The other is that Chuck is usually there, welcoming you, shaking your hand, offering you coffee, asking how your life is going. He had a sailboat named "The Weasel" and that's where he invented his omelette filled with chili and cheese. Someone told him it was so good he should open a coffee shop. So he found this odd-shaped place in Long Beach and now it's packed every Sunday morning. When I go to Chuck's I feel good about life because it's filled with ordinary people and a warm sense of community. No wonder it's "Locally World Famous."

Who Are These People?

Over the holidays we went through old photo albums to send them off to be scanned. Looking at old photos puts you in a funny, dreamy, kind of sad mood. This is an average picture I pulled out of hundreds. It was taken in 1992, 18 years ago, when I was 39. Now I'm 57. It's too easy to say, "Where does the time go?" Instead, I try to tell myself, "You had that time -- and now you have this time. Live it fully. Don't spend a lot of time looking back." But a little edge of sadness remains as I wonder what it all means.

Sunday at the Farmers' Market

Sunday mornings we like to ride our bike to the farmers' market. We buy eggs (cage-free), oranges and fresh veggies. This morning I bought a piece of baklava for $2 which was dripping with honey. Mostly, though, I like it that when I hand over three bucks for oranges it goes right into the farmer's pocket. No distant corporation siphoning off a slice of the profit and taking that money out of the community. What if farmers' markets grew to the point that they put the mega-supermarkets out of business?