Started back into travel season this past weekend for MFA's #1 fan's wedding, in Palo Alto, CA. Anne and I flew into Oakland late, late, late Wednesday night and crashed pretty hard once we reached the bride's house. Not only did she get up to let us in at 2:30, she woke up before us. Now, that is hardcore.
We have a disorder: we can't sit still. We are so restless even when we are road weary and sleepy. This found us about 24 hours dangling precariously above cliffs en route to Big Sur, just to take a picture of the sign and come back. I think I found the place to dramatically drive the car off the cliff when the time comes. Wow. No more buying the farm or kicking the bucket. I'm talking flaming car extrusion.
By the time we picked up my brother in SFO that next afternoon, we had covered Monterey, Santa Cruz, Carmel and Big Sur, not to mention having helped stranded friends in San Jose procure a rental car. It was hard to look at the farmlands and not think of Steinbeck, and thus my father, ditto for the the Santa Lucia hills. Very fittingly, we had put in Modest Mouse's Good News record.
The wedding-type events went off without a hitch (actually, I should say with a hitch, as the deal was sealed) Nothing like being bone dry in a nicely pressed suit, low-80 temps when back east you'd be melting. Maybe that's why my friends aunt said something about "you could eat him with a spoon." I think I know what that means, but I'll still plead youthful ignorance. There was a mechanical bull, but I could not get on in time for last call and closing. The more youthfilled (and liquorfull) ignorantati of the softer persuasion had the bar captivated, no way was a 200+ hombre like me getting up there to spoil their view of cleveland.
spent an afternoon in San Fran with some of anne's beloved from college. very, very kind people. Just so happens their apartment is atop the Noe Valley neighborhood and boasts a super steeeeeeeep hill right nearby. I think I asked them at least three times how they got to work and if they had to hoof the hill. It was probably the sleep depravation talking. The weather was even more perfect than Palo Alto (perpetually spring to San Fran's perpetual fall) and we hung out on their deck, overlooking the bay.
Maybe I'll turn this into a foto blog once I get the technology.
also, when we get the monetary technology, we are so going to record at Tiny Telephone. That would rule. Or maybe record in Sausalito with Steve Lillywhite as if we were the Gusterds. woot.