Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Fun In The Sun

Before you read any further, let me make something clear: We are not exciting jet-setters.

The Mr. and I take a more laid back approach to travel. We don't want a rigid schedule to follow or a list of "must-sees" to check off.

We choose to let things evolve on their own.

That's how we roll.

The first thing I noticed upon arriving in California was the weather. It was the opposite of the gut-wrenching heat and humidity we enjoy in Houston.

In fact, I don't think I sweat once the whole time. Seriously, people. I could have skipped the deodorant.

On Day One, we walked all over
Laguna. We must have hoofed at least three miles. Probably more.

You can't walk to the end of your driveway without turning into a puddle here in H-town. But
Laguna? Not a drop of perspiration to be found.

We slept with the a/c off and the windows open.

I awoke the next morning to a cool ocean breeze. It felt magical.

I'm still in awe.

Day Two was all about the beach.

The sun shone bright.

The ocean breeze blew.

We soaked up rays.

Many "look at us, we're on vacation" pictures were taken.

And I had my first black and tan.

Twas grand.

Day Three turned out cloudy.

No worries.

We did a little
thrifting and made a few scores. I'm already putting my finds to good use.

We drove up to LA that afternoon. One of The Mr.'s good friends from days past works for Red Bull and was able to score us some tickets to the X Games.

We were surrounded by many people much cooler than us. We did our best to hang.

I'll admit to feeling guilt over getting to see Shaun White skate without The Boy. I hope he doesn't hold a grudge.

Afterwards we drove into Venice and had dinner at some LA
hot spot, again surrounded by the in-crowd. I refrained from asking if they had Lone Star in an attempt to coalesce. A feeble attempt I might add.

Trying to be cool is exhausting. We collapsed as soon as we hit our hotel room.

Day Four started off cloudy. Despite the lack of sun, we made our way to the beach.

This time I took the Canon.

The Mr. watched the surfboarders.

Green with envy, he was.

I learned that the ocean is *really* cold and there is *a lot* of sand in that really cold water.

See me, trying to look all
hawt posing out on the rocks? About 3.5 seconds after The Mr. took this picture a rogue wave had its way with me.

It. Took. Me. Out.

Wet, full of sand in all sorts of places where sand should not be, and salt-logged. Sexy.

The sun eventually made an appearance and I coaxed The Mr. to join me in the frigid water.

I have a whole new respect for the force of nature. That tide is incredibly strong. Stronger than I imagined. After being knocked over and pulled further out to sea a few times, I decided that my place is on solid, sandy ground.

We had to cut our beach time short.

I had an appointment to keep.

New ink.

Another one of The Mr.'s friends from days past hooked me up with his guy who does a lot of work for the motocross crowd.

I'd show you his work, but it's going through the ugly healing stage right now. You'll have to be patient and wait for the unveiling.

Being poked with a needle for almost two hours makes one hungry.

No trip to California is complete without a visit to In-N-Out. One double-double, fries, and a vanilla shake, please.

We spent our last night sharing a couple of Stella Artois while watching the waves roll in and crash onto the rocks.


Day Five.

We waved a sad farewell to the Pacific and boarded a plane.

Houston bound.

Back to reality.


Thank you, California. You showed us a mighty fine time.