Sunday is a good day to go to the dump. Every day is a good day to go to the dump. However, cool, spring and a truck bed loaded with overflow from the garage is a day that says, “Look out, dump. Soon I’ll be driving through your pearly gates.”

The Panorama Vista Preserve suffered through years of drought but this year, after a series of storms came through, vegetation has returned making the area north of the Panorama Bluffs east of Manor Drive a perfect place for a hike.

Recently we checked into a hotel. The friendly woman at the front desk asked for our names, confirmed our reservation and then looked up and asked if we wanted a room for the handicapped. I wasn’t sure I had heard her correctly so I asked if she might repeat it.

It’s surprising how many people have had surfboards fly off the tops of their cars. I met two at the pool on Wednesday who had it happen, and one of them was a fireman. I assumed firemen were expert at tying knots and exempt from surfboards misbehaving and ending up in the ice plant on the s…

Things happen in the locker room. Things that may be an opportunity to discover who you are,  where and how are you. Things that might deliver the reckoning you did not expect, but require in order to keep you current and awake.

I read an article recently in the New York Times Magazine about an event called the Ice Mile. It is a mile swim in 41-degree or colder water. Only 243 people in the world have completed it.

I drove through the Kern Canyon to Lake Isabella earlier this week. The river was fat and brown. This was no time to drive off the road, I thought, because if you do, you will die and your car won’t be of much use to anybody in your family.

Jay Smith emailed to say that Bakersfield’s Frank Bidart has a poem in the Jan. 23 edition of The New Yorker. He added that “Mourning What We Thought We Were,” might not be terribly complimentary toward his hometown but if the poem is good and is true, who cares.

A few weeks ago, my brother sent me the 2017 Penthouse wall calendar with the bonus refrigerator magnet. I opened it early in the morning and when I realized what it was, I looked over my shoulder to make sure somebody wasn’t sneaking up on me.

A hundred-dollar gift certificate is something. When it’s to H. Walker's, something special. One that includes a gracious greeting at the door, hard candies on the counter, exquisite service and clothes, something to look forward to.

Friends gave us a box of See’s Chocolates during the holidays. The box, wrapped in red paper, was hidden in the bottom of a burlap bag filled with a delightful array of chips from Frito-Lay. Health food all, if the health of your psyche counts and it does.

Hallelujah. That might be some people’s reaction to Christmas being over but it is also the name of the song by Leonard Cohen that has been covered by about everybody including the woman behind the counter at the UPS store.

Thomas and I played the National Father & Son Hard Court Championships recently at the La Jolla Beach & Tennis Club. There are victories and there are moral victories. We excelled in at least one of those categories.