Old MacDonald was a black man

The program for today consisting of getting dropped at Santa Monica shopping/beach district while B went to a political discussion meeting (he invited me, I politely declined). I had a few hours to kill so I decided to walk along the mall, look in shops I couldn't possibly buy anything in, and eventually make it to the beach.

Some common occurrences in these parts: small, fluffy dogs in clothing, more fat people, loud, annoying accents and sports cars. None of which appealed to me. But it was interesting people-watching nonetheless.

There was a nice pier with some great views of the sea, a fun park with trapezes and a kind of circus area where you could use some strength-building equipment (a man wearing false dreads tried to get me on the rings by way of complimenting my real dreads, but I could see right through the nylon braids). There was even an area where it seemed performing arts types were congregating to practise and socialise. That was pretty cool.

As I headed back to meet B, I came by a panpipe player in the mall. One would think I was kinda of over panpipes, having just been to South America - and you'd be right - but there were seats there and my feet were sore. So I sat down and before I knew it, I was entertained. Not by the panpipe player, but a random black man who walked by singing, "Old MacDonald was a black man..." I could barely keep myself from laughing, what a champion!

So I met B and we drove home to freshen up before dinner. I'd had a glass of wine and some free garlic bread so I was in good spirits, even more so when I found out I could log onto wireless at B's on my laptop and use Skype to call my baby!! We chatted for over an hour before I had to sign off and go eat, and after an excessively large meal at a local restaurant I rushed back to my computer to try and catch the boy again. Only on chat this time, but better than nothing.

We are both so sad without each other, but I am excited about this new experience and I know he is about his too. We just wish we were doing it all together. Soon enuf, soon enuf.... meet you at the moon.

Dinner was at a more typical American diner, yelling above screaming children and loud-mouthed - well, Americans - while B strained his poor hearing. I tried to pay for the bill but he refused, eventually letting me give about half towards it.