To Morro, Part II

Things I learned about myself during my weekend at Morro Bay:

1. It's better if I pack the night before rather than the day of.
2. If I'm not going to pack the night before, it's a good thing for me to forget to wash my makeup brushes so that I can use the residue on the eyeshadow brush in place of the shade I forgot to bring.
3. No matter how tired I am, there's always time for good conversation.
4. No matter how much coffee there is, that's no replacement for sleep.
5. I can drink a lot of wine and still not have a hangover (though that may be due to the phenomenal amount of bread I consumed over the course of the weekend).
6. I can actually function without internet access (but there's a hell of a lot of Twitter to read when I get home).
7. I can easily fall asleep without the TV on to lull me (that could also be due to the wine/bread/late-night-convo combination).
8. I can be around 7 kids at once and my head won't explode (again, the wine and bread may have assisted here as well, but the kids were pretty close to angelic).
9. I can almost not swear at all in front of said children, and can pretty much refrain from inappropriate comments or conversation topics...or at least I can keep a low voice when I do slip.
10. I don't care about the rock.
11. I don't carry the soccer mom gene.
12. Fudge gives me a headache (which causes me heartache).
13. I tend to forget to pack my motivation when I go on vacation.
14. I tend to forget to eat my vegetables on vacation (unless salsa counts as a vegetable).
15. No matter how utterly adorable a child might be, it's still not enough to rouse my maternal urges to consider actually having one myself.

This is my second time going to Morro Bay. The first time I went, I was really tired. I kind of slept through most of it. It's sort of a sleepy town anyway. I was there for two days before I noticed the rock. As we were walking toward the ocean, I stopped dead in my tracks and said, "Holy mother! Look at that rock!" The whole street stopped to look at the "special" girl pointing at the obvious. My friends just shook there heads. "You are just now noticing it?" one asked. I reminded her how tired I was.

This time, the rock was fogged in. Seen it once, seen it a thousand times anyway. And after a hellish heatwave, I was happy to don a sweater and shiver. After a hellish work week, I was happy to do nothing more than meander through the day with chit-chat and snacks. This is really what life is about. I felt kind of bad, like I was a terrible guest when they would ask me, "Do you want to walk down to the beach?" Nah. "Do you want to go out for breakfast?" Eh. Maybe tomorrow.

Then I realized, maybe this wasn't all about me. So I asked, "Do you want to go to the beach?" After a pause, the answer was, "Nah."

We did venture out to lunch and took a stroll around the village. More friends (and their offspring) came over for dinner. We learned that you should read the poundage and do the cooking math before you go to bed, in case it's supposed to cook for sixteen hours (but that you can adjust the heat and get it done in ten). We also learned that an excited young man in new, dark-rinse jeans will stain cream-colored walls when he bounces off of them. And that Clorox wipes will only take you so far before you actually rub through to the paint you painted over. And, sometimes a person just needs to go to sleep without saying good night. Which is okay. That's just how we roll.

Mornings do come dreadfully early, especially on the last day. But, let me just say that on neither morning did I wake to a baby crying. No. Not this perfect child. Not even when Aunt SAM emerged from her room with glasses on, blemishes blazing and rocking a faux ponytail. Though he and I seemed to perfect the art of the headbutt on day one, on day two, he confused it for a kiss. Or maybe he's all about love and not war. Either way, I only want spawn if I can have one as good as him. But, that's a tall order, and since my friends already have one that good, I'll just bogart him from time to time. I can't wait for him to start talking. I know it will be profound. Probably something along the lines of, "Lady, back off!"

I'm not good with goodbyes, so I just sort of pack up and go. I had to hit the road a bit early in the day so I could avoid Sunday traffic back in L.A. I thought about stopping for gas before getting on the freeway, but didn't. That would be smart, and we know how I like to make things difficult. On my way down to the 101, the hawks soared overhead. Had I even thought about this possibility, we would have been picnicking on the hills, watching them sail above us. Instead, I swerved on the road as I watched them circle and swoop. I took them as a good omen.

I paid $2.97 for gas in Carpinteria. The drive home was only three-and-a-half hours long...without speeding. The hawks were indeed a good sign. And, even after stopping for a burrito, I was home in time for True Blood. It couldn't have been a more perfect weekend. Well, if I would have remembered my eyeshadow, that would have been a bonus.