In case you’d yet to ogle it in the sidebar, here, large and in your face, is the latest win in life’s epically challenging game of Family Photo. This particular snap was taken by my dear ma on Christmas day and we even used a proper camera! Bonus points indeed. If not for the bow behind Pete’s head and the Santa bear half hidden by my thigh, you might assume this was a lovely spring day, for shorts and bare arms abound. But as everyone knows, our winter was freakishly warm, and on Christmas we saw sun and seventies, which was perfectly acceptable to this California born and Florida raised cold hater.
Speaking of California…I’m currently 40,000 feet in the air en route to the sunny state for a business trip. And speaking of sun, we’re not slated to get too much of it while there. Let’s be clear, the sun will shine aplenty for the duration of our stay, but the forecast (for now) calls for a bundle of rain tomorrow and Monday, and given that the other oddity we North Carolinians have experienced in recent months is excessive drenchings, I was looking forward to a few days of West Coast perfection. Still, it’s California, on the beach, without ice or snow or any other disgusting frigid mess, and I’m staying at an absurdly gorgeous resort with all of my expenses paid. The complaint office is officially closed.
Another fun fact – that first person plural up there refers not to my colleagues, but to sweet Pete, the handsomely bearded man in the aisle seat to my right. When I learned of my participation in this particular trip I had my usual idea to head out a day early for some exploration, but this time I wanted my travel buddy with me. The show my company is attending is at the St. Regis Monarch Beach in Dana Point, a resort at which we’re probably never going to stay on our own dime, and I thought it would be super great for us to experience it together. Of course, I won’t be much company once the show starts as it requires my presence at all sorts of meetings and meals nearly nonstop from Sunday through Tuesday night, but I’m sure Pete will be just fine figuring out how to spend his time.
Before the work crazy begins, our early arrival will give us about 24 hours together to take in the area which also happens to be my place of birth! Not Dana Point specifically, but the resort lies only 7-8 miles west of Mission Viejo Hospital where one Deborah Meyers birthed a 10 lb 11 oz butterball of a baby almost exactly 34 years ago. So that’s neat. As far as what we’ll do with that 24 hours, I haven’t the slightest idea and I like it that way. For all the control I exercise in various areas of my life, I’m mostly content to allow Pete to be the planner when it comes to stuff like this. I know there’s a rental car, an Airbnb and a high likelihood of tasty food and drinks, but other than that, until about 3:30 PM on Sunday afternoon, I’m a willing participant in the Peteventure. Of course I’ll need to stop frequently for photos – can’t miss an opportunity to capture anything other than the same scene I encounter day in and day out in central NC – but Pete is supportive of that hobby of mine. Usually. Unless I overdo it. Which only happens like 79% of the time.
T-minus two and a half hours until we land, and now I’ve just been told that on this particular flight there seems to be an issue with MacBooks connecting to the internet. I paid eight whole dollars for my all day wifi in the sky and now because of my firm opposition to using a Windows machine I’m left with a shiny silver word processor. I guess I’ll just have to drink my plane wine and read a book or have a “conversation” with Pete. Struggles.
Captain Sarcasm here signing off. Kisses.