Moss Landing State Beach, CA - Before the Storm

 Waxing Crescent Moon

Wednesday seemed like a pretty good day to walk on the beach, with rain in the forecast for the rest of the week and my dental hygienist appointment scheduled for Thursday, so off I went to Moss Landing. I made the mistake of not checking the tide chart first so I arrived just after high tide - that's good for surfers and fishermen, but less good for long walks on firm, flat sand. Fun was had anyway, naturally. 

I love chugging through the deep sand over the dunes to be greeted by a big breaking wave.

There is no such thing as a bad beach day, just perfect ones and nice ones. Even though I winced a little as I sort of slipped and sank in the sand and scurried and hurried from the approaching breakers, the shore provided its usual engaging entertainment, minus most of the bird activity. I don't know where sea birds hang out while they wait for the tide to recede, but it must be pretty crowded there, wherever it is. I saw very little flotsam or jetsam, but there was some interesting driftwood as well as some brainy-looking kelp debris.

Isn't it good, Norwegian wood?

Wally Gator

Pretty sure this is part of a kelp plant, but I could be wrong.

The waves were awesome north of the the jetty and the air was full of magic, especially near the entrance to the harbor. In the harbor itself, a few seals took advantage of the calm water to basically goof around. These seals have a lot in common with retired teachers.

Sploosh

The jetty doing what the jetty does - protecting the harbor.

Cruising into the harbor

Sky drama. The old natural gas power plant is being converted to a giant battery power storage facility.

These seals are all out of dangs and phoos to give.

This very pleasant day mellowed me out in preparation for Thursday's trip to Salinas and my first encounter with Dora the Smug-Funny Sado-Masochistic Dental Hygienist. There must be something seriously wrong with me because I actually liked her style. The previous hygienist I saw at this office was really nice and kind and I liked her, too - she complimented me on what great at-home dental care I had been practicing and gave me a few pointers to look out for potential problem areas down the road. It was a very relaxing experience and her efficiency made the time go by quickly. 

Dora was a little different. Dora made me highly aware that I was reclining on my back with my mouth agape as an assortment of pointy sharp dental tools in her dainty/strong little fingers jabbed and scraped at my gum line for an hour and a half. Her chairside manner was that of a miniature longshoreman sandblasting barnacles off a frigate, leaving my senses on involuntary high alert. My entire core was clenched and my eyes were darting back and forth like I was racing downcourt on a fast break with LeBron James breathing down my neck. It was sort of perversely exciting. 

During a break in the action, I mentioned that the other nice lady said I was doing well with preserving and caring for my teeth. I told her how just plain tickled I was to have lived this long (I'm in my seventy-first year, thank you very much) and still be in possession of all but one of my thirty-two choppers. 

Her reply was both amusing and terrifying - something to the effect of: "Yes, your teeth are in pretty good shape, but when I see a case like this, I can't help myself, I want more." 

Then she resumed her barnacle excavation campaign with renewed vigor. It was all I could do not to kick my feet at the end of the dental chair like a man desperately swimming backwards on the crest of a crashing wave. Also, I was actually paying money for this experience. 

When it was over, Dora suggested I rinse my mouth with warm salt water and take some extra strength Tylenol when I got home. It took a second for that to register as I struggled to stand, gain my equilibrium, and run my tongue over my now sparkly, silky smooth teeth. 

After a minute, I said, "Why?" 

She thought I said, "Wine?" 

So she said, "Sure, but don't buy that cheap stuff, it will rot your teeth and kill your brain cells. A glass of good wine might help you relax, though, haha."

Then I said, "Huh? I said why, not wine. I don't drink alcohol, especially not after prolonged barnacle surgery." 

She laughed and said, "Oh. Well, the salt water and Tylenol might help. You're probably going to feel some soreness. I got pretty aggressive in there." 

Then she laughed some more, "We'll see you again in three months." 

I wandered out to see the receptionist. She was a nice older lady, like the lunch cafeteria lady in school. I asked her if she had a time slot available for me in late December, or maybe this time next year even...

Peace, Love, and Vanquished Barnacles,

Jim

#2,022 in 2022