RUNNING AWAY FROM HOME in Postcards 4

Every two weeks we run away from home. Marta, who hasn’t had her shot, comes and cleans. We have a to-go breakfast at the bay, then come home. This week we scheduled a Pilot boat ride ….an hour on the bay at one in the afternoon.

A sea lion dozing in the warm sunshine with the USS Lincoln behind him.

We ate this week on the Sunset Cliffs and enjoyed the crashing surf and dog walkers. The multitudes of girls in a wide assortment to tights, the men in obvious muscles. It was a great show. The dogs were fun too, but for me having been in isolation for a year, all those jiggling behinds were eye catching. The dogs were pretty too.

From the cliffs we moved to the downtown bay front. No passenger vessels in port this day, but hundreds more people to watch. George put my scooter together, and we wandered down the embarcadero to the group of new restaurants from the Brigantine family. Yes, the food was slightly different from the Brigantine near us, but we enjoyed the heck out of it all. We wallowed in fish with George having a calamari taco plate, and I with a single taco. What richness to be surrounded by crowds, ships, and sparkling water.

We had an hour out on the bay. An old America’s Cup boat whipped by us, several craft were tied up at the 32nd street docks, and as usual, there were myriads of motor craft out on the water with us. One or two too enthusiastic boat movements bothered George, and I felt old and weak at times as we hit high wakes. We were both very glad we went out into the beauty of this day.
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Himself: Making a blog entry and creating dinner.
Myself: Outlandish in purple velour sweats and a new purple and white striped tunic.
Reading: Linda Castillo.
Watching: A zoom meeting and 60 minutes.
Photos: From our trip outside.
Gratitude’s: My toenails got trimmed.