Beach Babe

For the next month I’m living in Leucadia, a coastal town where everyone wears wildly colored leggings, rides cruiser bicycles, and worships pastries. Paradise! I had to drive 1440 miles to get here, for 31 hours over 4 days, but hey, it was fun. I rolled through ocean cliffs and redwood forests and camped at State Parks. I showed up yesterday at Dad’s retirement village just in time for the Sukkot happy hour, featuring a tiki hut, chocolate martinis and hora dancing, which felt like a customized celebration of my arrival. It turns out this particular holiday is about feasting, eating and sleeping outdoors, so I’m a better Jew than I thought since I do that all the time.

I’ve rented a cottage 5 minutes from Dad’s place where I can stash my kayak, bike to the beach, do my schoolwork and shop at Costco. It even comes with 2 cats nearby who keep me company. So far I’ve barely been “home”; I’ve been catching up with my senior buddies. Ida turned 99 last week. To celebrate we went for ice cream and then to the beach to check out the surfer dudes. She explained that her friends are “alter-kockers” –Yiddish for “old shitters” – I am learning so many interesting phrases (actually per bubbygram.com it means old fart; over the hill).

My father is thrilled that I will be taking him out regularly to eat prohibited foods – bacon, shrimp, and processed sugar. I’ve stocked a supply of napkins in the car to clean him up; he’s a messy guy. For our adventures together, I’ve arranged for a harbor cruise, a train ride and flu shots. I also submitted paperwork to the DMV for a new handicapped parking placard. When my brother was recently in town, the police confiscated my mother’s parking card that our whole family was using for years. It turns out it’s illegal to access the account of a dead person and technically, Dad could have been thrown in prison. He would NOT like the food there, it’s best for everyone to start fresh. Oy vey!