Dancing Hula on a South-facing Shore

I hyphenated. I don't know why I did. It just gave me a complicated long last name. I should have just chosen one. I referred to myself using my husband's last name. I only used the hyphenated version for legal things.

I'm in the process of restoring my first last name. I'm not looking forward to the work of getting all new cards with my name restored, but that's what I get. I'm the one choosing to have my name restored.

When I first started my blog, I had recently moved to Ocean Beach and wanted to get on the blogging band-wagon. I started writing. I started recording. I started sharing.

Of course readers only know what I tell them about me, but I think in parts I've let you in a little more than I had planned to.

I am a woman in transition. I think my blog should reflect that. Over the next few whatevers you'll see my layout and pictures change. If there's anyone I know out there (no strangers) who wants to design my blog for free on blogger, lemme know.

You may have noticed I changed the blog's name. As I transition from my life in San Francisco to my life in Long Beach, I want to record it. From Ocean Beach to a South-facing Beach in Long Beach, I will try to illustrate my crazy new journey from the funny weird things to the super hard and annoying. I hope I don't screw it up.

Why I Hate Geese

Here's a story from when I was about 11 years old.

I wanted a Schwinn Beach Cruiser with pegs on the back wheels. I begged for one starting at about the time of my birthday in October, and didn't stop until I got one in December for Christmas, sort of.



I didn't actually get a Schwinn. What I ended up getting was a Stingray Beach Cruiser, and it didn't have pegs.

Almost the same, but not quite.

Anyhow, I used to ride it all over the place. One of the places I rode a lot was the duck pond at El Dorado Park.




One day I was riding around the duck pond trying to see how fast I could make it around. At one point a goose ran right towards me and bit my leg. On my next trip around the pond I tried to kick the goose. I missed, lost my balance on the bike and steered myself into the poop and moss filled duck pond.

The goose squawked, mocking me with his smug goose-ness.

I got up, picked some gravel out of my hands and rode my bike home with wet, mossy pants and scraped up and bleeding knuckles.