Can't tell you how wonderful our vacation was. Not the least of which was because ....
WE WERE OUT OF GOTHAM.
Now for a Manhattan Mama to complain of her home turf may sound odd, but given the Rabbit's horrible school year, work stress, life stress, I so needed out of here. And so last month, we packed three bags, sold the fish, donated the plants and took off for my home state for nearly one month. A vacation, yes. But more like a detoxifying immersion into all things West Coast.
I know, I know. California rots the brain. California is so behind. California is, well, California! But I am not ashamed to say: Love it.
I love the oleander that grows along the freeway, the eucalyptus leaves that perfume the night air, the gleam of a coyote's eyes as it skitters down the street after midnight. I miss the ocean. God I miss the ocean. Not the packed, picnicking families, coconut oil choking beach ocean. No....the jagged cliffs, the swirl of pink and orange as the sun dies slowly behind a bank of fog, the sand crabs dueling in the tide pools, the pelicans crashing for their mid-morning meal ocean.
I love redwood trees, nasturtiums, elephant seals and carousels where you can ride a painted pony and catch a wave breaking as you loop around for another whirl. I love grilled fish eaten on a wooden porch warmed by an outdoor fireplace. I even love dew on manicured lawns in the morning.
I love the blues and greens, the sun bleached wood, a real reason to wear shorts and flip flops. I love surfers -- real surfers with blonded hair, and worn out wet suits not bought for logos.
I love Peet's Coffee. Love Nepenthe (oh how I love Nepenthe). Love the Reel Inn. Yep, even love Baja Fresh. I love Kiriko. I even love, oh yes, the Tar Pits despite watching the huge lakes at work and having to explain to The Rabbit why the pigeon with its wings inky and black may have seen his last sunrise.
Coming home to the city this time was the hardest. The noise, the light so searing. At least we returned in the quietest month, and watched lightening crack across the skyline, as thunder tore through the apartment on the night we flew back. The Rabbit feel right asleep, and The Prince and I sat on the coach, swept up the dead cockroaches, and watched the rain smack the sidewalk, until we felt we could crawl into bed and go to sleep.
WE WERE OUT OF GOTHAM.
Now for a Manhattan Mama to complain of her home turf may sound odd, but given the Rabbit's horrible school year, work stress, life stress, I so needed out of here. And so last month, we packed three bags, sold the fish, donated the plants and took off for my home state for nearly one month. A vacation, yes. But more like a detoxifying immersion into all things West Coast.
I know, I know. California rots the brain. California is so behind. California is, well, California! But I am not ashamed to say: Love it.
I love the oleander that grows along the freeway, the eucalyptus leaves that perfume the night air, the gleam of a coyote's eyes as it skitters down the street after midnight. I miss the ocean. God I miss the ocean. Not the packed, picnicking families, coconut oil choking beach ocean. No....the jagged cliffs, the swirl of pink and orange as the sun dies slowly behind a bank of fog, the sand crabs dueling in the tide pools, the pelicans crashing for their mid-morning meal ocean.
I love redwood trees, nasturtiums, elephant seals and carousels where you can ride a painted pony and catch a wave breaking as you loop around for another whirl. I love grilled fish eaten on a wooden porch warmed by an outdoor fireplace. I even love dew on manicured lawns in the morning.
I love the blues and greens, the sun bleached wood, a real reason to wear shorts and flip flops. I love surfers -- real surfers with blonded hair, and worn out wet suits not bought for logos.
I love Peet's Coffee. Love Nepenthe (oh how I love Nepenthe). Love the Reel Inn. Yep, even love Baja Fresh. I love Kiriko. I even love, oh yes, the Tar Pits despite watching the huge lakes at work and having to explain to The Rabbit why the pigeon with its wings inky and black may have seen his last sunrise.
Coming home to the city this time was the hardest. The noise, the light so searing. At least we returned in the quietest month, and watched lightening crack across the skyline, as thunder tore through the apartment on the night we flew back. The Rabbit feel right asleep, and The Prince and I sat on the coach, swept up the dead cockroaches, and watched the rain smack the sidewalk, until we felt we could crawl into bed and go to sleep.
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What's a girl to do?