I LOVE CALIFORNIA

Wow, so it has kind of been a very long time. Luckily, I have an excuse. Or two. Because midterms have been happening, and then spring break, and then catching up on TV and the making dinner and then painting my nails. Important stuff here guys. But luckily, my wonderful friend Rachael allowed me to accompany her on a grand adventure to visit her family in southern California (it’s actually where she lives in real life). It was a grand week.

It started off with a quick teleportation from Dulles to LAX (what else can you call a 5.5 hr nonstop flight across the country?) which involved very productive writing time (not a joke) and Lee Daniel’s The Butler. We arrived in L.A. to reasonable temperatures, palm trees, and the next day, THE SUN. I’ll say it again. THE SUN. It was a miracle and it warmed the Earth to a startlingly perfect 75 degrees, so after a game of bananagrams (my best words: chimera and bung) we went for a walk with her family. I may have worn a jumpsuit. Also, there was this a family recipe for breakfast called dippings which may give you a sense of the kind of decadence we encountered in California. Bisquik biscuits are dipped in warm butter, then powdered sugar. Dippings puts the edible in incredible. (It may actually be singular dipping).

We people-watched and had a grand time at Laguna beach. Lauren Conrad was not present, but there was a really groovy gay French couple playing cricket (?) with their daughter, and some acroyoga– the combination of which amounted to the best people-watching ever

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You know, casual.

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Laguna. (Translates to: The Guna)

We packed up pretty much right away to head south to the San Diego area, visiting the grandparents and doing family stuff (hiking, the wild animal park (JAMBO!), playing cards, eating way too much). AND we even got to go to the beach. And swim. It was March, and a perfect 80ish degrees in Oceanside. Pretty pretty pretty. And also grandparents are really the best. It was a good time.

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The dignified Rachael and Shane Somerville.

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We’re goats!

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We’re bats!

Swinging back up to the good old O.C., we did some baller hipster thrift shopping at the best Buffalo Exchange I’ve ever been to (I’m doing an unofficial survey and have been in DC, Boston, Minneapolis, San Francisco, and now somewhere in the LA region), where we restrained ourselves and didn’t spend too much.

Then, because we had been tricked into thinking it was summer, camping happened. Camping by the ocean in March. We may have eaten takeout burritos and s’mores and bagels and it may have been awesome. There was a propane powered campfire that had Hanukkah-esque stamina (as Rachael put it), and we got to hang out with one of her high school peeps. Then in the AM, hiking and getting sunburned on the beach. I might have to remind you, it was March. MARCH.

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MARCH, I SAY, MARCH!! (This is an exclamation, not a command)

Because our days were nothing if not action-packed, we drank some pretty damn good boba tea at a tea place (CHA) whose reputation preceded it by two years, and saw Her at the movies. It was better the second time and the high-waisted horribleness bothered me less.

We drove up North-ish to be with Rachael’s mom, and spent the next day with the family eating sugary sugary crepes and going to the Getty Museum, which has old art and new architecture. We stuffed our faces with sushi and moose tracks ice cream (not simultaneously) and watched the worst movie Colin Firth has ever been a part of (think of what Mama Mia was for Meryl, except worse for Colin). Then in the morning, we packed up, leaving only the sun and the temperatures behind, as Rachael’s bag brimmed with birthday presents and mine with thrifted stuff.

After two flights, ridiculousness, Frozen, me finally finishing The Great Gatsby, and I came home to an empty apartment and little white flakes falling from the sky.

Goodbye, California. Until next time.

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