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| Gluten-free sweet potato pie- and vegan, too. |
The afternoon sun is spinning the seaside air that particular autumn gold, burnished and warm and chilly all at once. Delicious. And gone too soon. The sun will officially set tonight at 4:50. I feel as if I am running out of time. There is so much I want to do- and never get done. I surrender my expectations day after day. The pile of choices snipped free by my dwindling energy is gathering a bulk and momentum akin to the dirty laundry (I’m still waiting for the post-menopausal zest promised by Margaret Mead
).
).But Santa Monica does not fade after dark. Her charms only deepen. So we walk after dinner to the Third Street Promenade and listen to the brave souls who risk their ego and their artistry (the unkind among us might quip, questionable talent) crooning songs or plucking violins or juggling. Palm readers and skateboarding bulldogs aside, it takes guts to stand in public and offer up a tune or a dance.
I come home inspired.
I am thinking a lot about my life these days. And what I want to do with the rest of it. Moving here is a new beginning (well, yeah, obviously). I am reinventing the woman I used to be. Spinning my own autumn magic from bits of bone and history.
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