By the time I got back home I was starving and so was L. We didn't have any groceries and we were too hungry to go shopping. It was too hot to cook anyway so we headed down to the beach and our favorite Mexican restaurant. After we ate, the temperature was so nice down there that we headed more down to the water in Corona Del Mar to walk our bellies back down to a reasonable size. We started our walk a little further back from the bluff above the beach, as it was pretty crowded nearer the water. We started walking the avenues on Goldenrod, then Heliotrope, then Iris, then Jasmine. We'd never walked back from the water that far, and we had fun looking at how beautiful the homes were, whether they were cottages or Mediterranean mansions. And then we discovered something we'd never seen before: a footbridge going over what used to be a gulch back in the day.
It connected the two halves of Goldenrod and it was built in 1928. There were bright pink geraniums hanging down on each side of it, and they looked stunning as you walked across.
Here is my husband walking across, carrying my purse and sweater. Love that man!
You can see how pretty the flowers look hanging down above the little park and the street below. There is a staircase that leads down from the upper street to the park below.
It was one of those small discoveries that become sort of one of your favorites. We were surprised that we'd never noticed the bridge and it's flowers as we'd driven under it on the street below. Funny how that is. The weather was so cool and refreshing as we walked through the streets, across the bridge, and back again. Here's a view of one of the houses as you first walk over the bridge:
Anyway, this is not maybe something that everyone would like to do, but we enjoy our evening strolls just as we love to look at beautiful houses and dream about what it would be like to live in one of them. Perhaps one day we, too, will own a house at the beach. That's the goal, anyway. And whether the house is grand or humble, I think I could think of some way to make it mine. Even this one:
This little hot tamale is one of our kitchy favorites. It sits high above the bay on a bluff - a spectacular piece of property were it not for the fact that this Pepto Bismol pink thing with the twirly shrubs was built on it. It's surrounded by amazing homes on all sides, and I'm sure the neighbors have considered hiring someone to torch it. But what I wouldn't give to own the land it sits on! One day.... one day we will own our beach property. Until then, we will continue to dream and save.
And speaking of dreaming and saving -
After church we realized we still did not have any groceries, and so L asked what I'd like to eat. Lately (don't ask me why) I've been dreaming about trying fried chicken and waffles. I must have seen it on the Food Channel or something. It's certainly not anything you'd find in my neck of the woods. We Googled it, and found Roscoe's Fried Chicken and Waffles in Long Beach - that was the closest one. So we jumped in the car, and off we went on our dining adventure. The part of Long Beach where it was located was pretty old. And very ethnic. L and I were definitely the minority faces here. It's an interesting feeling when it's YOU that's the minority, instead of the other way around. But we figured we could either eat at the same old places we always eat, or we could do something interesting and different, so into Roscoe's we went.
It was big and noisy and had pink neon lights running all around the dining room. We were two of probably only 3 or four white people in the whole place. The rest were either black or Latino. But the smells coming out of that kitchen were delicious. Our waiter was Raymond. Raymond was huge - about 6'5" and built for football. I didn't ask him if he played. He was really friendly though and we each ordered chicken and waffles. I told Raymond it smelled wonderful in there and he smiled really big.
The place started filling up for dinner about the time our food got to the table. The chicken. Oh.My. The CHICKEN. It was THE BEST fried chicken I've ever had. And I'm here to tell you that pairing fried chicken and waffles is the most genius combination I've had in awhile. There something about the crunch of the juicy chicken eaten with the sweetness of the syrupy waffles that is just heaven. If you live in the South, maybe this is something you're used to. So you know. You're in the club. But for the rest of you - seriously. You must try this before you die. It should be on everyone's bucket list. It's comfort food. SERIOUS comfort food. You wouldn't want to eat this way every day. I wouldn't suggest eating this way even once a week. But once in awhile I highly recommend it. Roscoe's rocks. But I imagine you have your own version of Roscoe's wherever you live. Seek it out. Soon.
And that was my weekend. Today is my friend Marion's birthday. I just got off the phone with her from our annual birthday chat. Marion lives in Olympia, Washington.
She is 58 today, and I will be 58 in a little over a week. We are losing our waistlines. We are going gray. We have our health issues. But we are beautiful. I happen to think she is more beautiful than me, but that is my opinion. She has had a great sadness this year that she is recovering from. She is doing it with great dignity and beauty, and I am taking notes. She's always been such an example of class and beauty to me. I hope this next year will be better and happier for her because she deserves it. I hope I can learn to be as nice a person as she is. I try, but then I seem to get this naughty streak and things go south. But I'll keep trying in my 58th year. And now, dear blogging world, I have a mighty thirst, and I am going to stop now and guzzle a Diet Coke. Because it's hot. Because I'm almost 58 and it scares the bejeebers out of me.