On a perfect Sunday I take advantage of warm temperatures, drag a friend out of bed, and and make a spontaneous trek out to the beach. We venture to a bakery that's long been on my to-eat-at list, pick up a sandwich and soup to split, and take it to-go in a crisp white paper bag so we can eat by the waves. We drive around, not wanting to shell out fifteen bucks for parking, and happen upon the one open metered parking spot that's valid for two hours. We spread our two person towel on the sand, unwrap the sandwich and open the soup, and satiate our semi-hungry stomachs. The food does not disappoint. Post meal, we lie on our backs, watch airplanes go by, and talk about snorkeling. We yelp ice cream places because there's always room for dessert and leave because it's getting a little chilly. We walk to our car and spot a little canal surrounded by houses and decide to take a walk there. Can I say I fell in love? I've never been so mesmerized by real estate. There were rows and rows of little houses, some glass and modern, some cozy and adorned with greenery, and each complete with its own canoe. It starts to get dark and we drive to an ice cream shop on Abbot Kinney. We split a medium cup of watermelon sorbet, waffle cone crunch, and honey yogurt granola. We then drive home and finish off the evening with a marathon session of House of Cards.
