After we finished our loop we drove to Pacific Grove and stayed at the Bide-a-Wee, which -- despite the name -- was fine. We ate Mexican/California at Peppers and after that we went back to the hotel and tried to stay awake to the end of Superbad (I failed).
On Sunday morning, after we had breakfast at a slightly twee restaurant on the main drag, we walked along the coast until it was time to get in the car and go home. I thought we made a good threesome. I wasn't expecting it to be quite so effortless. Probably it has to do with everyone getting older and less socially anxious.
Now I am listening to the Giants leading the Nationals but it's only a one-run margin, in the top of the eighth inning, with Romo on the mound. Tense!
Now two outs . . . I should stop with the lame play by play and focus instead on the hilarious conversation I overheard while I was planting my arugula seeds on Sunday afternoon. Gene and Barbara had visitors (family, I think) who came out back to smoke some pot. They got into a debate about whether it is true that the sex of a baby is determined by the sexual position that produced it -- does doggy style produce a boy? I don't know how serious they were but I could not imagine my family having that conversation. I had come out back, feeling grumpy, because some people hanging out across the street had a car radio going and I was tired of it. And I was unhappy because the Tigers were swept by the Orioles. (The Giants are still ahead three to two, in the bottom of the eighth.) Anyway, there is nothing quite like the playoffs. Or the Pinnacles. Or the sky at sunset in the fall. Or having a nice dinner with a glass of red wine.
