We got home from Pismo Beach a few hours ago. As I mentioned, Jeanne and Bruce have friends with a cute little house about two blocks from the Pier in Pismo, and they lent it to us for the night. We had so much fun, even though it was rainy and cold. We ate more seafood than I've ever eaten in my life (I only accepted shrimp into my life in the last year or so, and in two days I've had clam chowder, fried clams, shrimp, scallops, squid, and some neutral kind of white fish. All were very yum.) We drank wine and talked about stuff that you only talk about after you've had two and half glasses. This morning, we walked on the pier, watched surfers (or boogie boarders - I don't know the difference), watched a sea otter float on his back eating clams, took pictures, bought touristy stuff, and then Brad had a psychotic break and actually purchased and ate chocolate covered crickets and ants.

I heart Pismo Beach.

For a girl who grew up in dusty, flat West Texas, the entire state of California seems like a movie set. The air feels different. The sky is more beautiful. Tulare, where MJ and Bruce live, is the "bottom of the bowl" - the flat floor of the Valley. On clear days, you can look down the street and see the mountains. On our way to Pismo, we drove through beautiful hills and past at least four vineyards and through San Luis Obispo and stopped the Madonna Inn (where, by the way, if a potential wedding were to take place in a few years, it may quite possibly definitely be held at this most perfect Inn - the restaurant inside is entirely hot pink - pink booths, pink heart shpaed tables, pink wallpaper, pink tablecloths, pink ornaments hanging from the ceiling. Trista Rehn, eat your heart out), and on our way home today we wound back through the hills and stopped at the place where James Dean died and stopped at a winery for a tasting and got a slight buzz and I felt like I was living in the movie Sideways, with 100% less pretentious wine conversation. I love it here.

Lucy loves you |