Sometimes it's a Smile

General update: the weather is gorgeous. I went for lunch and then decided to hit the beach again yesterday. While I'm working on finding my niche, I might as well, since I can, take advantage of the beauty around me. So I went to the water's edge (that's a song right?) and the waves were active, and I wound up walking from Venice Beach to the Santa Monica Pier, where I dawdled about some and did a little exercise, checked out the Pier. I still haven't been on the Pacific Wheel yet. I'm hoping for the right moment. Maybe at night.

I got more than my fair share of exercise no doubt. After all, when you walk one way, you typically (unless you get a cab, $$$) have to walk the other way. But there's so much to see. People on one side, ocean waves with people in the water (sometimes) on the other (the water is mighty chilly, but it was warm, and I'd probably dive in the water myself, so they're not insane, unless I'm insane, which is possible).

Now, because Claire (fabulous roommate from Calgary) said something about men in Speedos, and not wanting to see that, now I have to report back to her on my Speedo Spying. Yesterday the number was three. One guy was wearing a red Speedo and it looked like he could pull it off at least, in shape, but he was smoking a cigarette. Go figure. That was on the way to the Pier. On the way back, there was a guy, probably German, maybe Italian, who didn't need to be wearing a Speedo, as his belly was overhanging into Arizona. Finally there was a purple Speedo, and this guy had long curly Romance novel cover type hair, and I thought he must have been Greek or Italian (note how I'm trying to blame it on the Europeans) but he didn't sound foreign when he was talking to his family. His Speedo was ill fitting, baggy. So I figure the rule is, if you're gonna try to pull off the look, and maybe you can, make sure you get one that fits well at least.

That's the Speedo report. Haha.

Later I went to Staples. I was going to walk, as I've been doing, because it's really not a far walk, but after the Santa Monica Pier jog, and because it was close to dinner, I drove. Which, in a sense, probably takes longer than walking but expends less energy. So I waited in line for the employees to get what I needed from the back and then waited for a person to check me out. This gorgeous black woman with dreadlocks emerged, manager type, and kind of gruffly looked at me, saying "were you being helped" and I told her the guy said to wait here for check out, then I smiled and I think I twinkled my blue eyes, because that can be affective and effective here, and she shot back a great smile. It wasn't a big deal, but, it made my night, because, in this city that never sleeps (haha, I think that's New York, and the start of a movie, but I'm stealing it) you have to give and grab back the little moments like that.

I'm working on something else, too, but I don't want to say anything and possibly jinx it. Because I'm superstitious that way.

Now, because it made me laugh so much, and made me miss her, too, I'm going to post this little YouTube ditty for your pleasure:



A horse is a horse, of course, of course,
And no one can talk to a horse of course
That is, of course, unless the horse is the famous Mr. Ed.

Go right to the source and ask the horse
He'll give you the answer that you'll endorse.
He's always on a steady course.
Talk to Mr. Ed.

People yakkity yak a streak and waste your time of day
But Mister Ed will never speak unless he has something to say.

A horse is a horse, of course, of course,
And this one'll talk 'til his voice is hoarse.
You never heard of a talking horse?

Well listen to this. I am Mister Ed.

("Mister Ed" by Ray Evans and Jay Livingston)

Folks, that's the fabulous Rice (two dots over the e, can't do it on my laptop for some reason) teaching you how to heat-set, and cracking herself up, and if you're like me, it's cracking you up, too. The voice, James Earl Jones-esque behind the camera, is the Ever Gorgeous Earl, who is perhaps the only person on the planet who could film this woman doing this and not crack up with laughter, and that, gang, is LOVE!