Half Moon

7 July 2002

We have a newspaper! I didn't have to call or anything! Minor triumphs, I suppose.

The mail brought minor triumphs and minor nastiness. Yesterday I got my check and contributor's copy for my Underoos essay in Skirt!, and I also got a package of comics and editorial pages from the Omaha paper. My folks and grands generally send those along, plus whatever specific articles they think I might find interesting. And Cal Thomas said something in his editorial that I find absolutely obscene: "A panel of the 9th Circuit Court of Appeals in San Francisco, by a 2-to-1 vote, has inflicted on this nation what many will conclude is a greater injury than that caused by the terrorists [of 9/11's attacks]." He's talking about the decision that "under God" is an un-Constitutional thing to have in a state-endorsed Pledge of Allegiance. And that, supposedly, is equivalent to killing thousands of people. It turns my stomach. The man spends the rest of the column talking about the moral center of the country. Let me tell you: someone who can make that judgment does not get to tell me where the moral center of anything is, because he obviously does not know.

That is just scary thinking right there. And I'm enough of an optimist to believe that most people would recoil from it as much as I did, so I can move on and not dwell. I hope.

Mark and I drove down to Half Moon Bay yesterday. Had the much-coveted fish tacos (mmm) and got some fresh produce at the little place next to the grill. If we'd had sense, we would have brought a cooler with ice and picked up some seafood, too, because it was cheap in the same area. Ah well. As it was, we brought home fresh local cherries, peas, sweet corn, and tomatoes. I want corn-on-the-cob for dinner. The only things left on my "to cook soon" list are fried rice and French toast, but if we have to have French toast and corn-on-the-cob, so be it.

(When Johan [my grandparents' foreign exchange student and now a member of the family] went home to Sweden, his mother and his sisters didn't believe him that we ate corn on the cob. They barely ate corn at all -- it was considered pig feed -- and to eat it off the cob, well! He had to take lots of pictures to demonstrate that we really did, when he came back for a visit.)

These were taken from a vista point on Highway 1, just south of the town of Half Moon Bay.

The cliffs were pretty nifty, and there was a cave between the parking area at San Gregorio and the part of the beach where we settled. Like most caves, it was rather dim. Thus not very photogenic. But still neat. The beach was pretty crowded, close to the parking areas. Many friendly, happy dogs. Some kites, some barbecues.

We settled near some flowers, far enough away from the parking that we were pretty well alone. I read The Basque History of the World, which had its definite charms, and looked at the ocean and thought and watched dogs go by. I was pretty comfortable as shown, jeans and T-shirt and wool socks and boots. I spent most of my time wearing a long-sleeved fuzzy thing, to minimize the necessity for sunblock, and that was comfortable, too. Some people were wearing their swimsuits. I think I only would have been comfortable that way if I never stopped running around and never touched the water. This is Northern California. Not exactly tropical.

The flatness was good. The perspective was good. Being able to put my back to the scenic cliffs and ignore them and just be able to see for as far as I could -- definitely very good. I think we needed that. I know I did. I'd like to make an effort to do it a bit more often. Prairie substitute and all that.

I've got some thoughts on challenging genres, spurred by reading a few Clarion journals, but I think I'll save those for tomorrow and finish reading my (heeheehee) newspaper. Have a happy Scott's birthday!

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