My love letter to California…

By the long gap between posts it appears that I’ve been remiss in writing my return-to-California post. Is that really surprising, though? Some writer I am. Life takes some turns, and I’m too spent from spinning to get it all down. So, here’s the plan. First, I write my love letter to California. Then, in subsequent posts, I get to what’s kept me from my blog. (Some people call what I’ve been going through life.)

I want to start off by saying that the haul to Colorado took me two exhausting days and was mostly uphill (figuratively and literally when it came to the mountain passes), but the return to California started off at 6:30 am in the morning and concluded the same day at 11:30 pm. (Someone wanted to come home. I think it was me.)

The second I hit the Interstate 210, and the cars went whooshing by me and my 4’ x 8’ Uhaul trailer (I got a smaller trailer because I was minus the weight of my bed which I left for Sparrow), I thought, “Fuck! I’ve only been gone a little over two months and I’ve already forgotten how aggressive California drivers can be?” Just seconds after almost being overtaken by a black Mercedes, which zoomed past me and apparently didn’t have time to wait for me to merge into the slow lane that was rightfully mine as a trailer puller, the smell of dead skunk, green hillsides, and cool air filled the cab of my truck. Then I thought, “Man, is it good to be back! I’ll take the stench of rotting hill-side skunk, speeding assholes on the crowded freeways, and the site of year-long green on the freeway banks any day of the week. This is home. I love me my California!”

When I went to live in Colorado I never intended to live there forever. However, what I didn’t expect, within weeks of being there, was to miss California, and everything about it, so much. One of the craters in my soul Colorado couldn’t fill is all my favorite grocery stores with their better-than-most-states produce and can’t-get-it-anywhere-else products. I yearned for Trader Joes, a grocery God amongst West-Coast chains, the most. Where else can you get a bottle of wine for two dollars that doesn’t give you a head ache in the morning? Bless you, two-buck Chuck. Bless you. And bless you, Trader Joe’s, for your four-pack of avocados that always perfectly ripen at different times and for the 4-5 pack of Roma tomatoes you offer which never have mold on them. You really know how to melt a girl’s heart.

It should also be mentioned, Trader Joe’s, that I was not only jonzing for your Tahini sauce (so I could make my own home-made hummus with the best secret ingredient), but I was also feeling pretty lost without your quick packs of snap peas, green beans, and shredded carrots. While I am here, talking produce, can anyone tell me why only 1 out of every 4 grocery stores in Colorado seemed to carry shredded carrots? I never thought of shredded carrots as a luxury item. Well, not until I couldn’t find them and had to chop my own carrots for my salad. (Spoiled, little California girl.)

Convenience. That’s California. I don’t even drink coffee regularly, and haven’t for over 13 years, but if the craving for a cup of coffee hits while your anywhere in So Cal, if you are somewhere near a major intersection, you can pretty much bet there’s a Starbuck’s within three or four city blocks to the left or to the right of where you are standing.

Want to get some of the best Mexican food you can get outside of Mexico? Great. There are enough major-franchise Mexican restaurants around that you’ll not be left wanting. If it’s as close to the real deal you’re looking for, look no further than the incomparable neighborhood hole-in-the-wall joints which better than please the palette when it comes to authentic Mexican food.

Oh, you say you have got a love for Pizza? Me too! I don’t want to piss Colorado off, but Colorado’s altitude just can get it up when it comes to fluffy, flaky pizza crust. Not like California can, anyway.

If it’s not obvious, my love for Southern California goes way beyond the fresh produce and the plethora of great restaurants. I like knowing that when I meet up with a friend for lunch or dinner the opportunity to choose a place that looks out onto the ocean is available to me. I can admit it now. So get your lighters out. Let the lights shine proud. Join me in a circle, and I’ll confess. I’m a California-aholic. I really do love me my California. I’m addicted.

I like that I have made memories throughout my life with my friends and family in every major and not so major city all the way from Eureka right on down to San Diego. I’m proud of the fact that Southern California has been my playground my entire life. It’s okay if the sun shines on Christmas morning. I’ll keep the fireworks on the Forth of July that crack open the sky over the ocean at the beach. I don’t care if most the leaves don’t turn brilliant shades of pink or intense shades of yellow ochre in the fall. Sure, every one here actually thinks Palm trees are indigenous, but I’m fine with that, too.

The fact is, I’m never going to get tired of hitting up all the specialty spots along the coast and finding new ones in all the nooks and crannies of So Cal’s backyard. I want to keep making new memories with all the friends I’ve made over the years who have sprinkled themselves throughout this great state.

Already, since returning, I shared an amazing dinner with Shian at Poseidon on the Beach in Del Mar. Man, the ocean never looked so beautiful as it did when the sun set just as I had my second glass of chardonnay and took a bite of my Seared Ahi Tuna with a cajun rub. Just before that, watching the sun begin to hit the horizon as we shared the Grilled Garden Flat Bread, which had Kalamata olives, goat cheese, tomatoes, balsamic onions, grilled artichokes, and sweet peppers, that wasn’t hard to endure either.

Spending the day on Dana Strand beach under a big shade umbrella with one of my best friends, Tiffany, and listening to the waves crash against the shore as we dished the catch-up on our lives, that was good. Then, meeting up with Tif’s sister, Lana, later, who joined us for dinner at the Beach Fire Bar & Grill in San Clamente was yet another memory I’ve already made in my California. Lana may have met her next boy friend that night (I still have to check back in with her to see how that’s going). Another confession? I am okay with the fact that I didn’t have to pay for any of my drinks that night. Ah, California. We’re just so in love.

I really have been busy since I’ve been back. The weekend after I spent with Tiffany, I went back to visit Shian. We’d met a new friend at the birthday party we’d attended the night after the Poseidon dinner and, can I just say, “Go fun parties held in the back yard of a 10 million dollar house.” I now know what an infinity pool is. Well, I could have lived a good life without knowing that, and money doesn’t buy happiness, but it sure does buy a good view and that party did get us another wonderful meal.

I met the cutest, sexiest, fittest, flirtiest, man who wanted to make dinner for Shian, her boyfriend and me. After leaving a conversation with a Catherine Keener look alike (who was definitely on the quirkier side of the granola and more out there than Catherine’s role as Maxine Lund in Being John Malcovish), and as I approached Shian, who was chatting up our soon-to-be dinner host, a work-out God who Shian had met a couple weeks prior, said to me, as I approached, “Wow! You’re stunning.”

Oh, gosh, thanks for the compliment, Mr. Fine and sexy specimen of age, humor, muscles, smile and wit. No, I didn’t say that out loud to him. Instead, I simply beamed and my reciprocal smile spread from puff-me-up, you hunk, ear to ear. Then I said, “Thank you,” which prompted him to continue with, “My God, you have the best energy.”

Now, I ask you, who wouldn’t want this guy to make them dinner? Alright, I’ll come clean. Even though he told everyone at the party that he and I were running off to Vegas to get married, and that I was his soul mate, and told me that I was one of the sexiest women he’d met in a while, he was off the market. No, he wasn’t married. Not even a girlfriend. He is playing, rather vigorously, for the other team. The wife and daughter he had in closet days were a distant memory.

Still, Mr. Sexy not only boosted my ego, he made me forget about my 3-inch brown roots. (Man, do I ever need to get my hair done. Being jobless can be a mutha…). Also, Mr. Sexy prepared us all, Shian, her boyfriend, the birthday boy, and me, a mean vegetarian meal of rice spaghetti topped with a marinara sauce loaded with myriad of fresh spices and a chopped-thin serving of kale. (Kale? Who’d a thunk?). We also got a hot loaf of sourdough to go with our pasta and our kick-ass fresh salad from an organic garden, which, amongst other mouth-watering delights, included watermelon radishes, a variety of greens, and some lovely, sweet, juicy, and amazing golden-orange cherry tomatoes. Yeah, those suckers bursted in my mouth. I was going to secretly raid the kitchen, to pop the leftovers tomatoes in my mouth, but, thankfully, our host noticed my immediate addiction and brought a bowl out to me.

Our host also wanted to hold my hand during a portion of dinner, even though he’d slept with his best friend the night before. My conclusion? I’m still hot. He’s a sexual being. Eh…

Oh… Did I forget to mention that our host has an one-bedroom apartment on the estate of really rich dude’s property? Okay, that was lame, that description of an estate that takes 14 staffers to keep up, but that was my way of playing down the fact that we got a tour of our host’s boss’s back yard (not the house), and I’ll just say: tennis courts, his and her locker rooms, an outside bar equipped with villa-like tables with an automatic canopy shade system, and yet another infinity pool where the water fell off the edges of the concrete with no discernable beginning or end. (I guess the rich don’t see the horizon as a limitation. Sign me up.)

Am I bragging about someone else’s money? F’ no. They did the work. I just enjoyed their spoils. However, do I love that you never know what California can bring, with its wonderful residents, everyone from the homeless who enjoy the temperate weather to the richer-than-crap doing the same? Can I get a: HELL YES!

I’ll take it all, California. I’ll take your kooks who talk about inventing energy hats which are supposed keep the bad vibes out. (Go Catherine Keener look alikes.) I like their creativity. Give me the aggressive drivers who think they own every road. At least they are getting out of my way just as quick as they got in it. Challenge me with some of the overly-abundant fake breasts, plastic-surgery faces, and misguided image mongrels. It’s amusing to see people take such irrational pride in their appearance. Most of all, please, oh please, continue to honor me with your spiritually evolved, those who understand that mind, body, and spirit is not just a conversation; it’s a way of life.

Yes, California, thanks for keeping most of my friends here. Thanks for giving them the year-round green to grow their hearts. Bless your beautiful beaches which power their souls. I kiss your blue skies that inspire our imaginations. And, I thank you for your temperate weather to help all of us keep our balance.

I love you, my California!