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Cali days

I'm in Encinitas, Leucadia to be exact, with my best Gail-friend, uh, Gail. We jogged today, four long, grueling miles, and I'll have you know that I kept up. Never mind that she practically had to walk on her hands to match my pace. Just prior to our workout, I'd gone upstairs at her tiny townhouse -- which is like, 900 square feet bigger than my "real house" (and much cleaner) -- to change into my sporting attire. I bounded down the stairs to meet her on the patio, where I found her watering her tomatoes.
"Ready?" She asked.
"Yep. Two bras. Set to jet," I hopped up and down, trying to act like a jock.
"Why two bras?" She asked.
"I don't like to bounce when I run." She burst out laughing. I mean really, she was rolling.
"Hey, I bounce," I said. She shook her head and walked into the house.
"I've put on 20 pounds over the years," I said. "Seriously, I bounce!" She just snickered. I swear, there's just no reasoning with some people.
So we jogged, then we went to In-and-Out Burger. I ran much farther and faster than I might have alone. It's nice to have somebody to do stuff with. Not that Ron and I don't do stuff. We sit on the couch and make ooh and aah sounds watching Paula Deen drop mounds of butter from an ice cream scoop onto a rib eye steak. We play Scrabble sometimes and he kicks my butt, but in a way we are kicking my butt together, since I am, by virtue of my Scrabble ineptitude, complicit in my own butt kicking. We marvel at the cuteness of our pets. It's all good, to be sure, but there's really no substitute for a good friend who will jog or hike or even just walk with you and then take you to In-and-Out Burger.

This evening, we nibbled on calamari and falafels at a funky place called Roxy, drank fine beer, listened to an amazing Jazz guitarist, returned to Gail's pad, drank fine port and watched a movie. I'm feeling pretty citified right now. Sophisticated. Chic even. Tomorrow, I'm told, we're going to watching pigs race at the county fair. It's just what I came to the big city to do. Like I never see any pigs. Seriously, Gail-friend.

A hui hou. Aloha!

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