And lame to boot.
I didn't post last night because I was exhausted. I went to bed around 9:30 and then proceeded to do what every single exhausted person does.
Play around on the internet and neither sleep nor get anything useful done. Y'know.
So now we're playing catch-up, but we're also playing wind-down. That's right. This blog is coming to an end. But don't burst into tears just yet, reader. We're still good for another post or two. Because it ain't over 'till it's over.
Let's get started.
We got up bright and early in Kingman, Arizona, knowing that we had a bit of a drive ahead of us and that the clocks would lie to us as we crossed into the final timezone. After hitting up Starbucks, we headed forth into the great unknown, the barista looking after us with tear filled eyes and whispering "Godspeed." I wish this had really happened. It would have made my day.
And then--hold on to your hats, folks--we drove. And drove. 53 miles from Kingman, we crossed into California. I tried to send out joyous texts, but was denied by a satellite conspiracy that left me without a signal. So, grumpy yet exuberant, I settled into Angry Birds. Of course.
And then was promptly distracted by the appearance of the fruit guard. I know, I know. What's a fruit guard, Becca? Just beyond the border to CA, there's a little tollbooth-esque station stretched across the highway. There, you are supposed to stop. A kind person might comment about your license plate ("New Hampshire, huh?") and then ask you if you're carrying any fruit in the car. Once you deny it, you're allowed to carry on into the wilds of California with your fruitless car.
It is safe to say that I was extremely confused. Mom explained that CA takes their agriculture very seriously and they were checking to make sure that we didn't have any fruit to contaminate theirs, as I often make it a hobby of mine to gather diseased fruit and launch it into crop fields. Bad habit, I know. I can't help it. So we passed the lovely fruit guard and drove on.
The next stop was just outside the Mojave desert, where we decided we needed gas. Because no one wants to be trapped in a desert without gas. It's just asking for trouble. So we pulled off the highway and into the nearest gas station, where we both promptly had a mini heart attack about the gas prices.
How much, you ask?
Let's try $4.79 on for size.
I promptly required reassurance that gas was not this expensive in all of CA. I received it. We piled back into the car. (Someone really ought to go through and count how many times I have said "we got into the car" in different ways. Someone who isn't me.)
Next stop was Pasadena, CA, the home of a majority of my mother's side of the family. The very first stop was, of course, the shop, as "The Kitchen" is known in the family. We greeted Peggy (well, I did as Mom searched for parking) and then got to choose a lovely lunch from the shop's ample offerings.
Have I mentioned that this is about to become even more of a food blog? Because it is.
Lunch was exquisite. This is often (if not always) the case of food from the shop. Mom had sesame noodles and a side-salad that is one of the most fantastic things I've ever had. It was lettuce, blue cheese, green apple, pomegranate seeds, and a vinaigrette. It made for the perfect light bite; the texture of the lettuce lightened the slight bite of the cheese, while the apple and the pomegranate brought forth sweetness and provided lovely crunch. The dressing was light and added flavor without masking any other flavor. I had a half of a turkey and cranberry sandwich. The turkey was moist, the bread was crunchy and delicious, and the cranberry chutney just gave your mouth a good time. For real. I also got some grilled asparagus (in my immediate family, always pronounced "as-pa-ray-gus" because we're weird) with goat cheese, orange rind, and a fantastic dressing. The goat cheese was a soft and mild alternative to the tang of the dressing, and the asparagus was just charred enough to have a slight earthy flavor.
Mwah. (That's me kissing my fingers like an Italian chef.)
Like I said, this is now totally a food blog. Because that's what we did. We ate. And we ate well. Other than that, we mostly napped/internetted through the afternoon until Peggy came home. Then we went to pick up the little ones, which lead to inspired text/post by me. ("4-year-old cousin keeps looking at me askance as he tries to figure out if he really knows me or if all the adults are lying.") Walter was confused but cool with it. Eaton (the 4-year-old) was unsure but blossomed as soon as he realized that yes, I would love to talk about his book on animals with him.
By the time the four of us returned home, Shelly had arrived. Did I mention that this is leading up to a family gathering? Because it is. Much chatting and laughter was had as we drank wine, played around, and drank some more wine. Eaton and I went on a spelling spree with the little foam letters he'd gotten that day. Turns out, even after college, I can still spell. Good to know.
At long last, Shawna appeared (Walter and Eaton's Mom, just so you're all up to date) and there was much hugging, a little more chatting, and more wine.
Then we sat down for dinner (the food blog returns). Peggy had some food delivered to the house, so we feasted on chicken enchiladas, spanish rice, the most fantastic guacamole ever, and some coleslaw salad. The enchiladas were fantastic, just the right amount of spice in the sauce, with moist shredded chicken that was perfectly seasoned.
Then came dessert. We're talking churros dipped in homemade dark chocolate fudge sauce. You know that type of sauce that you just want to eat by the spoonful? You're all thinking of one particular sauce right now, that sauce that's been a part of your life for a while and just fills you with delight and anticipation. That was this sauce. It was fantastic.
Okay, I'll stop talking about food now.
Really, it was a fabulous night (have I used that particular adjective in this post yet? Find out for me.) We don't get to see the CA family that often--though I suppose that will change now for me--so it was nice to have the chance to catch up and hang out. Also fun was knowing that we didn't have to drive the next morning. HALLELUJAH.
I already talked about my failed attempt to go to bed, so I'm just gonna go ahead and vent for one second.
Those of you that have driven west for long periods of time know my pain. You know that once you hit midafternoon, a certain thing happens. What certain thing? THE SUN TEARS OUT YOUR RETINAS FOREVER. Seriously. You are just forever driving into a haze of blindness and unicorn tears in the form of sunbeams. It's ridiculous. And painful.
I just needed to get that off my chest. Now I'm gonna go write the next blog post, which is most likely the penultimate post.
Miles today: 324 miles
Total mileage: 3428 miles
Angry Birds: DECIMATED.
Stomach: Full.
Sun status: Blinded by the light.
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