dusty smurf

I had a terrific day off and met up with best friend (and source for half of my material) Trixie for a long lunch. We went to the Santa Monica Promenade where we strolled the Farmer's Market perusing overpriced designer vegetables and then sat down at an outdoor cafe for salad and people watching.

Within a few minutes of arrival, we had honed in on the Men's Uniform of the Day- black slacks, black dress shoes, molded black plastic sunglasses, blackberry, and an oxford shirt in a shade of relatively bright blue with a hint of gray to tone it down- a shade that pushed the window without quite putting one's foot through the glass. I nicknamed the color "Dusty Smurf", and then launched into a hallucination of Dusty Springfield as a smurf character, complete with a bouffant hairstyle and that sexy hip swing of hers. We nicknamed them "Dustys".

Within an hour, we had spied eight Dustys strolling by us, including a corner where there were three of them chatting on their blackberries- I speculated that they were talking to one another. Oh, well, there's nothing like expressing one's individuality.

After that, we escaped the dusty bondage and strolled on the Santa Monica pier on one of the first days of spring. There were actual bathers splashing in the water, no less than four vendors offering to write my name on a grain of rice, and a yummy selection of ripped shirtless youth strolling on the planks. No further Dustys to be spotted but we were not mournful, the future of our nation provided adequate distraction. We stopped off at a booth where an old man did chalk portraits, and asked him if he could write our names on a grain of rice. He was not amused, But we were. It felt so good to enjoy a spring day again.