Can't have it all...
I've barely slept, and to do it justice I had intended to save news of my trip for another time, when I'm more lucid and apt to speak in a manner which is somewhat intelligible. However, on objectively assessing my abilities thereof, I came to the realization that such an opportunity might never come. Because CA matters so much to me, it was never bound to be much more than a synopsis anyway, this reminiscing of mine...SOOO...
-because we left for Hartsfield at 3 (yeah, AM), which allowed me a grand total of, oh, 3 hours of restless half-sleep before we left, and because I couldn't stand the thought of sleeping in the car and missing the snapshot views that have come to define me, I spent the entire trip in a state of lethargy. That's okay; I cherished every groggy moment. Thursday was spent with my grandfather, great aunt (who, even with her memory failing, has the sharpest, most unexpected sense of humor) and briefly with Melinda's family, which means I finally got to meet Orville, the notorious groom. He's great. I approve.
-Friday marked my return to the Sierras, Silver Lake, Plasse's, Kit Carson's...all too precious to me to talk about. Briefly, I was allowed to step into my heaven. (To ensure that I not get too disoriented, my father broke his arm.)
-Melinda's wedding was the nicest I've ever been to. She asked me to read a prayer during the service, which was such a privilege. Her dress was gorgeous. The reception was flawless. The toasts were priceless. In short, the entire day was very storybook, and I know they'll continue to be blessed.
-my uncle looks so much like my Grandfather that it's unnerving. If he had the personality to match, I'd've been a basket case.
-Sunday I returned to Frisco, which was punctuated by common Frisco experiences like Pier 39 and the Wharf, the Silver Man, sourdough bread, annoying crowds, a startlingly honest homeless man requesting money for beer...but no sea lions, by golly, no sea lions. I fake purse shopped. With the aide of my aunt and mother, I convinced my dad to use his one operable hand to guide the car towards none other than!--
-826 Valencia. I'm such a damn school girl.
The Valley was hot as hades, my fabulous dress got compliments (which I never mind), SF was unnervingly cold, and I've picked up a virus from my inconsiderate brother, who somehow had the audacity to get sick. SF's airport is entirely unacceptable.
The only thing I didn't do that I wanted to? Get a compliment on my shoes. I resent this, because they deserve to be noticed. Ain't that the way of it, though?
-because we left for Hartsfield at 3 (yeah, AM), which allowed me a grand total of, oh, 3 hours of restless half-sleep before we left, and because I couldn't stand the thought of sleeping in the car and missing the snapshot views that have come to define me, I spent the entire trip in a state of lethargy. That's okay; I cherished every groggy moment. Thursday was spent with my grandfather, great aunt (who, even with her memory failing, has the sharpest, most unexpected sense of humor) and briefly with Melinda's family, which means I finally got to meet Orville, the notorious groom. He's great. I approve.
-Friday marked my return to the Sierras, Silver Lake, Plasse's, Kit Carson's...all too precious to me to talk about. Briefly, I was allowed to step into my heaven. (To ensure that I not get too disoriented, my father broke his arm.)
-Melinda's wedding was the nicest I've ever been to. She asked me to read a prayer during the service, which was such a privilege. Her dress was gorgeous. The reception was flawless. The toasts were priceless. In short, the entire day was very storybook, and I know they'll continue to be blessed.
-my uncle looks so much like my Grandfather that it's unnerving. If he had the personality to match, I'd've been a basket case.
-Sunday I returned to Frisco, which was punctuated by common Frisco experiences like Pier 39 and the Wharf, the Silver Man, sourdough bread, annoying crowds, a startlingly honest homeless man requesting money for beer...but no sea lions, by golly, no sea lions. I fake purse shopped. With the aide of my aunt and mother, I convinced my dad to use his one operable hand to guide the car towards none other than!--
-826 Valencia. I'm such a damn school girl.
The Valley was hot as hades, my fabulous dress got compliments (which I never mind), SF was unnervingly cold, and I've picked up a virus from my inconsiderate brother, who somehow had the audacity to get sick. SF's airport is entirely unacceptable.
The only thing I didn't do that I wanted to? Get a compliment on my shoes. I resent this, because they deserve to be noticed. Ain't that the way of it, though?