Another 100 mile road trip to nowhere on Sunday.
Without an escape route I think I would lose my mind.
Experiencing a beautiful day in a convertible makes life bearable in Coronaville.
Seeing the ocean and wandering through canyons, taking in the views and seeing the isolated mountaintop places that people live is fascinating.
In California we never experience automotive wanderlust because driving is usually an exercise in frustration so why expend more energy in the car.
With the reduction in traffic we have discovered new places near and far.
On the way home we stopped at Malibu Seafood.
It is outside dining and takeout centric.
David masked up and there were about 10-15 people ahead of him in line with 6 foot markings to insure social distancing.
I sat in the car.
It took about 30 minutes to order (no phone orders taken) as only one person is allowed inside the shack at a time.
I have reviewed the restaurant and love their fried fish, coleslaw and steamers.
The tables are 6 feet apart and are wiped down as soon as they are vacated.
It was not crowded, but I was still ill at ease.
I kept looking around and when 3 people and their dog costumed in a dress, transported in a baby carriage, gathered around our table, I could feel my agitation building.
I nicely asked them to move on.
The concept appeared overwhelming.
We left.
I feel as if I have PTSD.
The only place I feel safe is at home or outside during my very early morning exercise outings.
After the rioting happening a few miles away in Santa Monica I feel honorbound to be housebound and I am normally a person who lives to move and groove.
Another issue to deal with in the New Normal.
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