Malibu is beautiful. The people are beautiful also. 60 is the new 40 here and everyone looks much too healthy, glowing like they might be famous or perhaps they are names on a rolling movie credit…anonymous yet vital. 

And Malibuans can spot us coming from miles away like the time we did hot yoga and they dumbed it down so I wouldn’t go into cardiac arrest on their yoga floor. And one evening, we walked into dinner at the Sunset Inn and encountered an older lady trying to navigate the front step. Bob took the lady by the arm and helped her down the step and her daughter said, “You must be from the south!” Bob replied, “Yes Ma’am, I’m from Alabama.” 

Eating at Malibu Pier, we noticed four tourists, one wearing a Pride of Broken Arrow jacket and introduced ourselves as Oklahomans. They are band parents, enjoying seaside dining while waiting to see their kids march in the Rose Bowl parade January 2.

Dusty took us to hot yoga. On our drive over, Dusty explained the idea of elective stress, placing yourself under duress and growing through the experience. He is working on these ideas for his masters thesis. Dusty and Cecily are Lulu Lemon models, so I definitely felt pressure to be flexible. I survived, not sure of growth but certain of a cleansing sweat.

Seagulls, Ferris wheels, salty cool sea breeze, roller coaster, indulgent fried foods, weathered boards, a shirtless white man in a silver flat billed hat pretending to be hip, a black man in a too loose suit singing James Brown. This could be Coney Island with palm trees and sushi. Thanks Dusty and Cecily! What a fun time we’ve had in Malibu!