Skip to main content

The journey's end (for now)

BB and I finally got to Fresno late yesterday afternoon after a happily uneventful four-hour drive. BB was pretty chilled for most of it but even she'd enough by the time we got to my Grandfather's house. She hasn't stopped since we got here, toddling around in circles like a drunken sailor, shouting "no no no" (her word of the moment), and stopping only to sleep and eat. Thankfully her jet-lag isn't quite as bad as mine.

A night of fitful sleep and we were ready to head out this morning for supplies in my big-ass rental car, a chunky Ford which looks like it's been abusing steroids. There we were, BB and I, cruising down the main street to a soundtrack of soft rock (I can't figure out how to change the station on the bloody car stereo), experiencing the good ol' US of A at its finest.

The sun was shining, the sky was blue, there was a guy on the corner holding up a 'Jesus Loves You' placard, the fruit stand was loaded with locally-grown produce, there's a mall on every corner and a store for every need/ want/ desire. Despite being hit hard by the recession, Fresno still looks pretty much the same.

The biggest excitement of the day was when I was asked for ID at the liquor store. I was so flattered... until the clerk said that they ask everyone who looks like they might be under the age of thirty-five. Well, I'm nearly thirty-eight so I guess I'll just have to take that compliment, however small and paltry.

Plans for the rest of the day: a swim in the pool, dinner, bath time for BB, sleep. Perhaps tomorrow my brain will emerge from its foggy jet-lagged state and I'll be able to hold a coherent conversation with the members of my family. Here's hoping...


Anonymous said…
Sounds good - especially theswim in the pool and the fresh fruit. Oh, California!
Plastic Paddy said…
I'm exhausted reading this! Enjoy your time in California! X
Anonymous said…
Pak job Ads and advertisements for Karachi,Lahore,Quetta,Peshawar,Multan,Hyderabad,Rawalpindi,Islamabad and all cities of Pakistan.

Popular posts from this blog

Apologies for being incommunicado this week and hope none of you out there are too distraught not to be receiving the usual almost-daily MotV missives. The reason for the silence is that I'm up to my neck, metaphorically-speaking, in research papers for my first grad course assessment. This experience has made me realise how rigorously un-academic I am in my thinking. It has also illuminated how reliant I am on red wine in order to get through endless evenings typing furiously on my laptop, not to mention the fueling of increasingly colorful curses that I feel obliged to aim at the University's online library system which consistently refuses to spit out any of the journals I'm desperate for (I refuse to believe this is 100% due to my technical incompetence...)Oh well, if this is the price one has to pay in order to realize a long-cherished dream then it's not all that bad... No one ever said a mid-life career change would be easy. Wish me luck!

Recommended & the Mahiki dance-off

My GFs and I went to Mahiki last night, great fun as usual but made me feel a bit old; it seems that Thursday night is the playground of the just-past-pubescent. Oh well. Good tunes though, so whatever.In between taking over the dancefloor - the youngsters may have youth on their side but frankly that shrinks to insignificance in the face of two decades of clubbing experience - one of my GFs and I got into a conversation about why so many people are full of bull.It appears that many people we come across are content to live their lives in a superficial way, skimming the surface of what life has to offer and equating the ownership of stuff (cars, houses, boats, jewelry, designer clothes) with happiness. They converse in terms of status, strut their possessions as a measure of their own self-worth, take themselves far too seriously, are quick to judge others, easily annoyed, complain a lot about very little and their worries seem to far outweigh their joys. Personally, I think all that…


Following on from the realisation that my lungs are filthy and if I don't give up the smokes soon I face a life of wheezing at best, off I trotted to see the charming Dr T.

Dr T, who's charming by virtue of the fact that he's less jaded than the other doctors in the surgery (in other words, he treats patients as if they're human beings with a right to NHS services rather than annoying fraudsters trying to gain sympathy for imaginary illnesses) promptly put me on potentially habit-forming drugs to get me off the evil weed. Something doesn't feel quite right about this but since I'm so pathetically grateful to have a doctor who's willing to give me more than two seconds of his precious time, I have acquiesced to his demands.

Anyway, this wonder drug is called Champix and promises to have me merrily chucking my smokes in the bin in no time. Or it will if I can get past the possible side effects, the highlights being abnormal dreams, nausea, flatulence, snoring, …