I woke up this morning around 8 and couldn't fall back asleep. So I sat up in bed and pulled open the window to let in some of that morning fresh beach that softly knocks all night long. Then I crawled my massiveness off the mattress and toddled down my stairs to the front door. I was getting my laundry out of the car, but for some reason I just stood there outside the door in the morning sun for a few minutes, soaking it all up like a crusty sponge. Alex frolics out the door behind me, slinky and spry, "Yeeeah Mike-Man" he hollars, tosses down his skateboard and zwinged around the corner. So I go inside and take my shower. An hour later I'm down into the little slow city, standing in a Starbucks, wishing the counter girl didn't know me by name. (this is a day, by the way) When I get up to campus there isn't a parking spot to be had in all of the West and North remotes, so I swing my wagon down into the East lot (miles from my noontime destination) and prepare for yet another morning jaunt. This was 11 already, and the fresh hilly air smiled at how good I felt.
When I crested over that path that overlooks the bay, I stopped to suck it up with insatiable awe. Dangit, it looks so good. There's so little clouds masking the bay this morning, so I can just watch it all shimmer. I took a moment to pinpoint exactly where my house was, just off the wharf a good 5 miles away, little pricks of color against a huge vast greyness of gleaming ocean light.
I got to the bookstore, and my book wasn't there. So off again I was, alone with my shifting backpack talking to me with every step. I love that thing, it clings to my shoulders like a suckling pet, and I show it some good ol times. Through the trees I walked, looking up and up - trees are funny because you can never see the tops. I eventually got to the cafe tp eat hardboiled eggs and toast and yoghurt, then back to Theatre Arts for our Shakes-to-Go runthrough for Paul Whitworth. It went splendidly, and I am in glee. Afterwards I set off again, back down through the southward campus meadows to get back to my car so I can move it closer. It was midafternoon now, and on this path the air is always warm and promising. I tried to call Dad a couple times to tell him about it, and finally my phone cuts through to his voicemail. He gets a dollup of my enthusiasm, and then it's back to me eyeing at a brisk stroll with arms a-trucking and head up. I jackrabbit dashes off the path in front of me, but stops close enough so I can get a good look. I decided he wasn't scared of me, so I proved him right and kept on strolling. Further down the rolling meadows I see squirrels popping in and out of their holes, little spurts of movements all around me. I thought for a second how interesting their lives must be, and how huge and endless these meadows seem to them. The tall grey grasses are their forests, and we the Wild Beasts who walk by on our path. I was really cuttin' along as I turned down and headed through the Village buildings. Hillary hates the Village, but I loved living there. In my experience, these little portable buildings of various colors are some of the most mature quarters to stay in the whole city of Santa Cruz. The people are respectable and clean, and everybody is happy to me. Well since I'm not living there now, I just walked on through and made up my way up the stairs of Mordor recently built into the Village's backside. This steep wall-well of steps takes up quickly up to the road and over again to East remote parking lot. And there I was, full-circled, with barely half the day over.
After an hour of class, I come out to my 20-minute spot to discover a funny yellow ticket sticking out from under my windshield wiper. Silly TAPS office, some terrorist organisation will murder them all someday, and good riddance too I say. SO I reward my irresponsibity with a good old dinner from Mikie's Del Taco In Santa Cruz, AKA, Planet Fresh Burritos. Mmm I'll miss that place.
After a fine evening chat with Dad, the vanilla sky called me back to the big brown Barn at the entrance to campus where I'd spend the next 5 1/2 hours of my night wearing a variety of colors, dorning various accents, wearing glasses, making people laugh, speaking someone else words, being physical and ending a long night. It was our first dress-rehearsal runthrough for our play, and a grueling one at that. But now it's done, I'm finally home, belly full of tofu and beans and stuff, and still trying to think of something interesting to respond to Heather with about an update to my life.
Oh, and the white moon glitters through my bamboo blinds at me, sliced up between the slits but happy white all the same. Hello moon.
Hey, I wanted to show a couple of pictures I took this weekend in Santa Cruz. The bottom one turned out really cute even though we don't see Stan and Joey isn't posing(that's Darin kissing Heather, duh). Mikie took his mom's hand to lead her from the stairs down to the beach sand in the upper picture. She wasn't going to come down because she didn't have the proper footware. Well, she softened and walked down to the beach where we all watched Heather capture a sand crab. I can still see her (and Addie) doing that many years ago everytime we went to the beach. Anyway, we had a swell time. While down there I called Grandma Georgie and told her where we all were. She wished she could be there so much. She reminded me again how my Dad, Mom and Steve and I used to go to Santa Cruz many summers for a weekend and stay with grandpa & grandma Baker. Grandpa Baker rented a little cottage (really just a little one room structure that was connected to a bunch of others, kind of like a motel, just a block away from the beach/boardwalk) for a month. He loved it there. Then Grandma Baker would come over for part of the time. Mom told me dad really didn't like the beach that much. He didn't like the sand!! Actually talking to her was kind of sad because I figured that unless some special effort was made (which I suppose is a possibility), she probably wouldn't be able to be there again during her life on this earth. 
For those of you who can't be there, here's a little taste of what's in store.
