The beach is my refuge.

Every single day existing in Coronaville and trumpsterland  is challenging so on the weekends we attempt to spend a few hours beaching it, depending whether humans are being naughty or nice.

Saturday, hoping for the best and fingers crossed that Los Angelenos were adhering to the mask mandate as well as social distancing, I made a thermos of strong Illy coffee which I now believe is the best home brewed coffee and we arrived at the beach at 6:30am.

The sun was shining, no fog and the beach population included my husband, 3 dolphins and 6 surfers.

To me that is perfection.

We walked 3 miles to the Santa Monica Pier and then headed back and found a spot by a lifeguard stand which is usually the last place people like to settle…who knew.

We had 5 hours of reading time and just the sound of the ocean washing over us.

At 12:30 reality set in and we collected our chairs and umbrella and scampered across the endless expanse of sand now littered with flesh and bone and exposed faces, making our way to our geographically desirable parking spot.

The traffic was bumper to bumper so we drove in the opposite direction and headed to West Hollywood to our favorite Vietnamese joint to pick up takeout.

We had not been there since mid-March so it was a treat.

We found a shady spot in a West Hollywood neighborhood and ate our lunch.

Our convertible has become our favorite al fresco dining spot.

It was 100 degrees in town so we could not wait to get back to the beach ‘hood.

I turned on the outdoor fountain and settled in to watch the NY Yankees spank the division rival Red Sox 5-2.

Saturday was a bright spot in an otherwise predictably gloomy week.