Sometimes I set out at the start of a day and I have a whole list of things to do. Go here, then there, and on my way to that place, I’ll swing through this place. On occasion, the “start” of my day may not be until 3 or 4pm, but those are the days when I tend to be the most productive (having slacked off most of the morning and early afternoon, my guess is that I subconsciously feel guilted into action).

Some days I’ll wake up, get ready, and have nowhere I really need to be. On days like those, I tend to let my thoughts rule the day.

If, in the middle of my makeup routine, I happen to randomly think of a place I’ve been before, I’ll usually make it a point to go there once I get in the car and head out. I figure if it came to mind, there must’ve been a reason.

Often I’ll just be in the mood for an iced coffee, so I’ll try to pick the Starbucks I’m familiar with that requires the most driving (while remaining in the state) to get to.

While we’re nothing like the seed head of a dandelion that’s prone to drifting wherever the wind takes it, there’s a simple pleasure in letting a whimsical thought or tiny curiosity guide us through our day.

This evening as the sun went down and after the afternoon’s festivities, I found myself in Palos Verdes as the fog was tumbling lazily across the streets. The weather didn’t seem intent on clearing up much or giving way to the stars, so I headed home. As I rounded one of the many bends, I must’ve hit a part of the peninsula where one microclimate transitions to another; with perfect music and an open moonroof — just as the piano swelled in the song — the fog broke and my view of gray became a view of the twinkling coast. It was perfection, and it’s a view I would not have seen had I not decided to let the wind take me where it wanted.

Tonight I am thankful for the simple things: aimless wandering, beautiful discoveries, good friends, fun conversation and new chapters in life.