The saltwater breeze, bright tropical colors and a zesty cocktail of Californication on my local Venice Beach are picking my spirits up and depositing them back on blissful cloud 9 where I, until recently, could most consistently be found floating.
Interpretation in regular English: life is grand!
The weekend was a whirl. Participated in the dubious exercise of dodging 60mph balls for fun in the Hollywood dodgeball tournament, skeedaddled down to the waves with a boogie board and kicked up my heels to the lilting tunes of my fun new neighbor's wooden Pied Piper flute at a Willy Wonka party.
Gratefully missed my ex at the same by 10 minutes. But despite the efforts of my Oompa Loompa get-up - hot pink wig and almost-naughty white kneesocks -, my mood rapidly spiralled to bad-mushroom-trip proportions at even the suggestion of his presence.
So I cried, cried some more, laughed a little, hugged my brother, curled up with my friends, and clambered back onto that cloud.