Originally – in a long past post – I referred to her as the Beach Witch but the gloves are off now. This is the woman who, if you’re happily walking your beloved dog on the Santa Monica bike path around 6:00 am, will snarl, “No dogs on the beach!” I’ve tried many approaches to dealing with her. At first pointing out that the police don’t mind dogs on the bike path, and finally devolving into snarling back at her to get a life. I may have even used the F word. She’s that critic on your shoulder in living color.

Then I discovered that we have a mutual friend – and the whole beach feud seemed ridiculous, so one morning as she was taking a photo of Nelson (I’m not kidding; he was totally busted – I think she sends these photos to the police department) – in any event I decided to once again try the high road. So I said, ignoring her picture taking, “Hi, we have a mutual friend, Maria.”  This was greeted by, “No dogs on the beach!” Reasonably and rationally I replied, “The police don’t care – ” and then she offered to tear down the sign to show me the rules.  It was at this moment I realized the gift she was giving me: When reason and rational thinking meet craziness it equals craziness.

And I pass the gift on to you dear readers. This bit of wisdom could save thousands of dollars in therapy.