I began Saturday by sleeping in. It was fantastic, relaxing and much needed. I've finally hit a bit of a lull at work with my current project and this weekend was the first proper weekend I've had in three weeks. (Minus the four hours I worked.)
After I'd lounged around enough to satisfy my weary bones, I decided I'd had entirely enough of sleeping, sitting in my office chair and working, so I jumped in my jeep and headed once again to Benicia State Park. BSP is nothing wonderous or fantastical. But it is a great substitute for going to the actual beach when I don't feel like investing all day into a beach trip. BSP lies on the edge of the bay and offers it's patrons a bit of solitude and a running/walking/biking trail by the water. I normally bike it. But lately I've been into rollerblading so I thought I'd give the BSP pavement a try. At first I hestitated, because BSP's trail is not as well maintained as the Iron horse trail and rollerblades are a bit harder to naviagate pavement cracks and generally rough conditions with. But in my glee to go outside, I decided to just go for it. I should have listened to my hesitation. I didn't get further than the parking lot before I knew it was a mistake. It was the worst, rough, pock-marked asphault I could have chosen to blade on. Ugh. I pressed on and up the trail. After blading through several puddles (It's been raining quite hard here lately) and stumbling over badly cracked pavement repeatedly, I headed back to my jeep to put my shoes on and have a go at running the trail. But before I could put my shoes on, I noticed that the street I'd parked my car on was blissfully smooth and took off down it. The street, like the park trail, ran along the bay amongst some beautiful bay homes. On my trip I spotted several fantastic little spots - park benches with bay views and some meandering trails.
After finishing a good 40-minute blading session, I took myself back to a spot of interest - the ninth-street boat launch - via Jeep. I had no idea there was such a thing as the ninth-street boat launch! It was fantastic. A great little park with a big old ship's anchor and a memorial plaque.
Being the inquisitive soul that I am, I headed down to the old anchor, passing several trucks with older gentlemen sitting in them, facing the sea, looking for all the world as if sitting in their trucks in that parking lot was part of their normal, daily routine. One chatted on a CB radio and another sat eating his lunch. Perfect old sea dogs.
When I arrived at the flags and anchor I found something that defied everything I'd gleaned about growing up in this area: THERE WAS A BEACH THERE! A proper little bay beach, complete with sand and water. FANTASTIC! Who woulda thunk it? It rocked my world.
I finished up the afternoon with a trip to the best darned hot dog shop in the whole world: Sac's Tasty Dog.
At this point, the hot dog had worn off so I headed down to the basement of the Opera house, where a hungry soul can find all manner of sustenance! I picked a tasty looking turkey sandwich and a bottle of water, paid my $13 (That's right, the sandwich was TEN dollars! And you thought concession stands at movie theaters were expensive!) and then I couldn't find a place to sit and eat. The tables were full. Dilemma!
I spotted an empty seat at the far side of the room at a table with an older Woman. She seemed very kind, so I asked if I might join her. I must say this. I adore that woman! She was lovely. Her name was Maude (and still is). She confided in me that she was 94 years old. That shocked me because, truly, she looked as if she were in her seventies. We sachatted for a while, which those of you who know me, is something I just don't do out of the blue like that. I must have reverted back to cruise ship hostess mode. Or maybe I just liked her immediately. Here's Maude in a nutshell (or rather, from a 15 minute conversation): Her husband died nine years ago of cancer. Before he died, they traveled the world together and even had a sailboat! She was quite proud of her travels. (As well she should be!) She has at least one grandchild, who is a ballerina and the principal dancer in a ballet opening soon in Walnut Creek at Lesher, which she told me to see on a Friday, and afterward to go and knock on the stage door and ask to see her granddaughter and tell her Maude sent me to say hello. She said her granddaughter would probably say to that "Oh, she's found another one!" Ha! Apparently Maude is a serial people-picker-upper.
I determined that when I am 94 I should love to be just like Maude. Full of spunk and passion and quick to speak her mind.
The ballet was, in a word, magnificent! There were a few minor stumbles and missed steps, but altogether a brilliant, theatrical and captivating production of a classic.
As I watched those dancers soar across the stage like doves, I thought to myself: How, how in the world do they do that? Pardon me, but I have a body too and mine doesn't fly. I tried. I broke my arm. (This probably relates somehow to my liking those Sac's tasty dogs) ...I can't make my leg into an extension of my soul, reaching for the heavens.
What is it about a beautifully done ballet that speaks to the very core of one's being? It quite literally tears the emotion from your center and out through your pours. It ripples through you as it leaves, making the skin tingle and commanding tears to fall from their ducts.
Photo from sfballet.org
Maude. Now I get it. Sorry for the confusion.
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