Trattoria by the Sea

The morning had been so wonderful, I couldn't even imagine what we would do with the rest of the day. We squished pennies, shopped for souvenirs, including a t-shirt for brother from Crabby Jim's, and wandered around looking for someplace to eat that wouldn't involve HRH's lips touching a fish. I know we were on the seaside (literally, we were staying in Seaside, California) and it is kind of hard to find food that never floated.

I think I mentioned that HRH keeps fish as pets. Well, she calls them pets, it isn't as if they play fetch or walk on a leash, or anything. They sort of swim around in a large tank and stare at you if you drink too much. Not that I spend a lot of time at my sister's house, drinking, with the fish staring at me. But it would be really freaky if they did, so I don't. Anyway, she says I don't eat dogs (which are real pets, unlike fish) so she shouldn't have to eat fish.

She tends to give seafood nick names, like sea bugs and oh, icky don't kiss me after you eat that. Sometimes she just shudders and asks me to eat under the table cloth. She also does that when I eat rare beef or anything that looks like it did when it was alive.

But I digress. We had walked to the end of the wharf and were rounding the corner to start up along the boardwalk when we spotted a luncheon special menu board - Linguini Alio e Olio - well I don't speak Italian either but that sounded so good. And they did have a patio on the boardwalk. What more could we ask for?

Turned out, not a whole lot. This was Paluca Trattoria Authentic Seafood Restaurant, named for the owner's sons (or so the website says) Paulo and Luca. We were welcomed in by the owner/chef Salvatore Tedesco with promises of more on the menu. As we perused the menu he told us about the specials and how his family had fished the bay since before he could reach the cook top.

At first we thought a nice iced tea and appetizer would be enough to refresh us from the whale watching. We could have settled for that, if we just ordered the Parmesan Garlic french fries, or the lightly battered sweet onion rings. But we just had to try the beer battered artichoke hearts. Sal assured us these would all be great since we were in the garlic, artichoke, and romaine lettuce capitol of the world.

Wait, we didn't get anything with romaine. So we just had to get the rosemary chicken breast on a Francesca roll, with romaine of course and the aforementioned linguine of course. Not to mention the rock crab salad.

The sun was shining, the breeze was blowing in off the bay, and the food was delicious. This place is definitely going in our "let's go back there again soon" list.

Its A Whale of a Tail

The first time I went to California was 25-years ago. I was there for just four days and the only thing I wanted to do was get nose-to-nose with the ocean. I did get to tour Long Beach in December (truly, you cannot experience the true meaning of Christmas until you see Santa in red velvet shorts leaning against a palm tree.), I got to see the Spruce Goose and the Queen Mary. 

Rather than take me to the ocean though, my aunt's friends took me to a German village for lunch. Yes...that is right, they took a girl from Iowa to a German village. OK, it was probably pretentious to order my meal in German, but really...a German village????

Still, I was in southern California in December where my cousins kept apologizing because the temperature was down in the 60s and the Long Beach airport ticket agent had never heard of freezing drizzle. As we flew out over the ocean the pilot said, "If you look out the right side of the plane you will see a pod of whales." Yeah, sure I would. We were already like hundreds of feet in the ai...oh my god!!!! I could...I could see them. Five of them swimming right below us. I was hooked.

CaDiva and I first got to go whale watching in Newport Oregon. I loved it. Being out on the ocean is so different, so much MORE than just watching it. And CaDiva got to say, "Kyptain, der be beasties down here." several times. When we started to plan this trip, I really wanted to go whale watching again.

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CaDiva went on-line and did her magic thing. She found Monterey Bay Whale Watching tours. The biologists have been featured on Discovery and Nat Geo, not to mention the tour is four hours and they give AAA discount. We had our reservation before we even printed boarding passes. What can I say, CaDiva is the tour planning Empress.

We got up early and headed down to Fisherman's Wharf in Monterey. The dock was at the far end of the little cluster of touristy gift shops, penny squishers, and chowder hawkers. The crew were informative and very excited about their little corner of the water, which always makes it more fun for me. I adore being shown around by a native who loves her hometown.

The wind was cold and HRH was in sandals and a light slacks. She huddled on the sunny side of the boat and toughed it out. The narrator pointed out the pod of ordinary dolphins, puffins, black footed albatross, sea lions, seals and other wildlife. The miles and hours slipped past us and you could tell the crew was getting worried they wouldn't be able to meet the guarantee of a whale or your next cruise free.

By this time the sun had warmed the air and HRH was getting her sea legs. She worked her way forward with me and we stood in the bow riding the waves and reveling in each new experience. I had to agree with HRH, even if we didn't get to sight a whale this was still a great trip. We watched the trough of waves fall away from the boat knowing we were going to feel the drop moments later. It beat the heck out of roller coasters.

We heard one passenger ask CaDiva after one of our gales of giggles and exuberant squeals as the bow fell to the bottom of the wave, "Don't you have water in Iowa?" CaDiva was too busy reveling in our sheer joy of the ride to do more than one of those long slow up and down looks and say, "Not any oceans, no."

Then about three hours in, a passenger saw a spout. We were all watching for them. We thought it was only one juvenile, but no. It was a mother and her calf. Two humpback whales. We watched for the spout first (which my niece insists is whale snot) then an arched back ...at which point HRH started to shout encouraging phrases such as, "Come on, I want to see tail. Give me some tail." and of course my favorite, "SLAP IT!" OK, we probably should have pointed out to her what she was saying, but...really, it was too funny.

Well as soon as the pair were spotted. all the cruises alerted each other and soon there were three boats sitting quietly on either side of the giant wonders. These were professionals, adhering not only to the letter but the spirit of the rules protecting the whales. There was one small private boat with its motor still running and the narrator warned us this was probably stressing the mom and she was working her way away from the disruptions.

Then the pilot of the little skiff started to steer right down the corridor created by the tour boats. Our captain, a professional marine biologist and a consummate gentleman hailed the private vessel. Once he had confirmed the man on board could hear him, the captain pointed out, not too gently, he may not want to drive between a group of whale watching boats, since that was usually WHERE THE WHALE WAS. The tiny boat ducked its little propeller between its stern and slunk away.

Since our cruise was four hours, longer than any of the other companies, we were able to stay out another hour after the other cruise boats turned back towards the wharf. It was a wonderful day. When we docked again we were filled with the excitement of the day and the beauty of the weather. We wandered the shops and did a little souvenir shopping and squished some pennies. One manual machine blanked our pennies without printing the selected image. But we persevered and came away with several new pennies for our passport.

Finally we decided it was time for a meal. But that is a story for our favorite meals chapter. I will tell you all about it tomorrow.

Luggage Carts, Diners, Tea and Fishes part 2

Write my little acrylics to the quick and I hear nothing. Miss one night and oh, the hue and cry. Sheesh!! So where did I leave you? We ate at the Fog City Diner and drove off to Golden Gate Park. The server was a doll but the meal was disappointing. We did make use of the restrooms. Une telle surprise!

CaDiva got some of her own back when the Diner had unisex bathrooms. How terribly Californian. In case you haven't read about our visit to Armstrong Grove, CaDiva went into the men's room thinking it was unisex. And if you haven't read it, why haven't you?

We had to drive through the park twice before we found a nice parking garage. It opened right onto the concourse that lay between the aquarium and the tea garden. We walked past an amphitheater where a small band was practicing some performance that involved a lot of arm movements that looked a lot like a Third Reich salute.

A friendly parking attendant gave CaDiva directions to the aquarium. Unbeknown to HRH and I, he warned her to go to the aquarium before the Tea Garden because it was so expensive, we would be disappointed if we were too tired to see it all. He was right, but while it costly, they did give AAA discount. Another opportunity to stand in front of a green screen for a snap shot. We wandered a bit but soon discovered we wanted the lower level. I think I liked the upside down jelly fish and the sand dollars best.. They had a little display of the contents of a shark's stomach.

We were wondering if Rae ever found a new license plate. But doesn't it amaze you the Spam was still not opened? I guess the Barbies were too filling. We weren't able to get around to the big display to watch the lecture on the under seascape. But we still saw some beautiful fish. Then we worked our way through the African wildlife display to see the penguins. Yes, there are African penguins. They look a lot like regular penguins except their tuxedo jackets are short sleeved.

We were thinking about an exit, but stopped first for an expensive drink in the well appointed cafeteria. The cost was pretty comparable to the meal we ate at the Smithsonian this summer, but that is another story. The fact that they sold wine was a little surprising considering San Francisco is not even in Sonoma County. As we left, they offered us the photo taken in front of the green screen. HRH would have taken it but I didn't like it and the little sales clerk was seriously dense. So we passed. I know I know...but it wasn't actually shopping so the girl trip rules weren't shattered.

The Japanese Tea Garden was very pretty. They didn't give AAA discount but, not for the first time, HRH, CaDiva and I were asked if we were triplets. It is more fun to answer that than when they ask if I am CaDiva's mother. Don't get me started on that one.

The Zen garden looked just like those little ones you get for your desk. I still think staring out at the ocean is more soothing, but it was still very impressive.

HRH was seriously taken with the bamboo.

We walked and walked, every few turns there would be a small alcove set back from the path where you could pause and just enjoy the green and stone and sky. It wasn't quiet like Armstrong Grove but still very soothing. All the literature said the artistry of the landscape is planned to the most minute detail, including the size and color of individual stones.

We even found another penny squisher. And a gift shop. Given that HRH is getting heavy duty chopstick skills, I'm sorry we didn't buy a set. Or some of the soup spoons. But we flew out so we couldn't get all the little souvenirs we would have picked up if we drove.

As it was, we slowly wandered back to the car, enjoying the day and realizing vacation was wrapping up. But tomorrow was whale watching, so it wasn't over yet. HRH curled up with her tunes in the back of the car and CaDiva behind the wheel, as it had been since we landed, we went looking for dinner. We pulled off the interstate near Gilroy and found a little restaurant where CaDiva could get her waffle. I suspect she only travels for the complimentary Belgian waffles and the free shampoo. She doesn't use the shampoo, she brings it home for HRH. What can I say, they are cheap dates.

Now, it was growing dark and we were headed into the Monterey mountains, so guess what? CaDiva was tired of driving. Don't ask me how I always ended up driving in the mountains at night. I'm from a PRAIRIE. We don't do mountains. But coming out of California, through Tennessee, into Colorado...I always get the mountains. HRH pointed out it may have been dark but at least it wasn't raining. She is so helpful.

We got into Monterey later than we planned, after the late start that morning. But it was all worth it when we got to our room. Another Embassy Suites, this one in Seaside, and it didn't disappoint.

We had two full rooms, all set up properly this time, and a FULL Balcony, which HRH claimed as her own. Especially when she noticed that it looked right out onto the bay. Well, she does have the crown and all.

Luggage Carts, Diners, Tea and Fishes

Sounding ever so much like "Are we there yet?" HRH kept asking about Golden Gate Park. Can we see it from the bridge? Is the Presidio in the park? How big is the park?

Five years ago, HRH and I were only in California for five days when we went out there to move CaDiva to Iowa. Somehow, in the flash sightseeing and dash packing, we missed showing her Golden Gate Park. So we definitely wanted to get there this time.

Not only is it a must see, the Japanese Tea Garden, the Aquarium, heck CaDiva was married in the rose garden back in '70. I didn't even get into Junior High until '71. But that is neither here nor there. Well it is more here than there, what with her being so much older than I am. One day I'll explain exactly how much older she is than I am. But it is a lot.

We planned the trip for Monday since much of the park is closed to motorized traffic on Sunday and we figured it would be less busy on a work day.

We grabbed a little breakfast at the hotel and packed up the luggage and checked out of the Embassy Suites. Now, you remember I told you we should have learned not to let HRH handle the loaded luggage cart? Well, while I was checking out (for the price of one meal...the rooms were Hilton Honors - both nights.) HRH pushed the luggage cart out the front door. The parking lot sloped from the covered entry way down towards the walking path along the bay. It was just too much of a temptation I suppose.

I didn't see the decision or the hop up onto the cart. I came out of the lobby just in time to see the error of her logic occur to HRH. As the luggage cart filled with all the things three women need to travel for nine days careened towards the Toyota parked next to our rented van, HRH decided the best course of action was to jump off the cart, plant her feet, and cop a stance akin to a Mets catcher over the home plate in post season...and just about as effectively.

It all took on a sort of surreal feeling as the flip-flops HRH wore slipped out from under her feet and the loaded cart keeled over like an Irwin Allen Luxury Liner. By the time the dust settled she lost the polish off one toe and the skin off the other knee but the Toyota was saved.


Given her trauma, we decided to let her pick the breakfast place. She had a plan, which is unique in the first place. But, we all saw that shiny aluminum old-school Fog City Diner when we were leaving Pier 39. And the idea of a diner breakfast before we started our tour of the park just sounded too good to pass up. We should have passed it up.

First it cost like 25 cents for seven minutes to park there and the diner didn't even open until 11:30 AM. Something we didn't realize until we had already plugged the meter with most of our change.

So we decided to walk down the Embarcadero to look for some place else to eat. We walked about a half a mile and found nothing that was open or looked likely but what we did find was one of those fancy new self-cleaning toilets. I was so excited. Not girl trip you can pee when you want to type of excited, but way up there. Unfortunately, it was out of order.

The three of us grabbed a sit down place on a bench and considered our options. After much debate, well not that much, it was CaDiva who actually figured out by the time we got back to the car the diner would be open and so that sort of resolved the whole issue. And it probably wasn't a very good idea to leave CaDiva sitting on the bench surrounded by homeless people we hoped were talking into blue-tooth devises. But HRH did get to see a skateboarder trip a roller-skater, so she felt a little better about her wounds.

There was another short layover in a lovely park beside the diner, waiting the last few minutes for the restaurant to open. Frankly I thought my companions could have been kinder when the cool breezes blowing through the willow branches lead me to sing Patsy Cline's "I Go Out Walking". They are so picky about pitch and melody and getting lyrics EXACTLY right...go figure.

Finally we sat down to breakfast. Only this isn't a diner in the true sense of the word. This was more like what a yuppie raised X-genner would think you should put in a diner as long as it is in California. On top of that the absolutely adorable server had to break the news to us that the menu wasn't exactly up to date.

He suggested we just order and see if they had what we wanted. Well CaDiva was a winner right out of the gate. She settled for crab cakes, if they put the chili sauce on the side, since she doesn't eat anything the least bit spicy. (she is older than me, remember). Next HRH placed her order and I asked for a Fog City Diner Burger (figuring if it had the diners name it they had to have it.) Well they did. But he came back to HRH and broke the news that she didn't win the lottery. She picked a second meal and we waited.

My burger came and it was good, really very good. But CaDiva's crab cakes came with the chili sauce on them, and the corn bread she was talked into ordering to pad her small plate, turned out to be made with jalapeños. Well at least HRH liked the corn bread.

The bill came and our light little meal came to over $60 dollars even after they corrected it for double charging CaDiva for the crab cakes and not taking off the corn bread. I would not recommend this place but we wanted to bring the server with us to round out our little band. He fit right in.

Finally we were off to the Park. But it is late now and CaDiva still has to proof this, so I'll leave that for tomorrow.

San Francisco - Her Heart/Her Bridge

For her first nine years, CaDiva lived just blocks from the ocean in San Francisco (apparently it costs $25.00 if you call it Frisco) and feels not just nostalgic but more than a little proprietary. You know she calls the Pacific her ocean, and I always presumed that was just to differentiate it from the Atlantic, Gulf of Mexico and Gray's Lake. But apparently the very large orange bridge across the bay is hers too. But you can't really blame her. After all, she did learn to parallel park in San Francisco in a car without power steering or automatic transmission. So she does have a claim I guess.

As we approached the Embassy Suites in Burlingame we crossed her bridge for the second time on this trip. We very much anticipated this stop, it was factored into the trip primarily because we had stayed three times at the Embassy Suites before and always reveled in the view, the service and the Sunday Brunch at Rings Restaurant. (Oh another remind me to tell you about moment - watching the dad and the dead shark from the balcony) Unfortunately, while the view is still spectacular, the balcony was little more than a ledge, the restaurant was sold, no longer accepts our gift certificates nor serves Sunday Brunch, and the service has declined significantly.

The fold out couch for HRH was not made up with fresh bedding or even a blanket. The bar and restaurant main room was taken up by a wedding reception and the pool area was filled with children. On the upside, the server at the little interior patio where we were served dinner was attentive and concerned with our disappointment. The meal was quite pleasant. The next morning the complimentary cook to order breakfast was served quickly and I was able to carry it to the room thus making big sister points by bringing HRH and CaDiva breakfast in the room.

So we got an earlier start Sunday morning than we planned and drove down to Pier 39 and scheduled our bay cruise with the Blue and Gold Fleet. But that wasn't for several more hours. There was nothing to do but shop, eat and play a claw machine. Oh, not just any claw machine. While not the mother of all claw machines, more along the line of a dear family friend of a claw machine.  I didn't win...but I came >this< close.

And then we got a great table at Sea Lion Cafe to watch their namesake lounge as we ate. CaDiva had to have her chowder, and HRH concentrated on not eating anything that was anywhere near a fish (she keeps them as pets and refuses to eat them, but I think it is just because she is a bit of a wienie about food). To ensure HRH didn't miss any opportunity to make faces at me, I had the sea food and pasta and dribbled on my shirt...so it was a double dose for her.

We eventually wandered down to the gate to await boarding call for the cruise. We whiled away the time watching a very strange young man spend about a half hour trying to catch a pigeon. Hey, I don't explain them, I just report the facts. No one was able to explain to us why so many of the pigeons had plastic bags tied to their tails. But frankly, we didn't look that hard for an answer.

Then it was time to queue up for the cruise. We almost cut ahead of this strident tourist, but she put us straight to our place. Still, we were able to get up top and cruise around the bay, up under the Golden Gate bridge, twice around Alcatraz, and over to the Bay Bridge. We saw wind surfers, sail boats, sea lions, wonderful cityscapes and heard about 3/4ths of narration (thanks to the conversation of our strident tourist and her party) told in the words of city natives from Emperor Norton to Lottie Crabtree to Alcatraz guards and "residents".

All of this was bonus given that just riding around on the water in the sunshine and warm air would have been more than enough for we two landlubbers. I wasn't able to talk HRH or CaDiva into going out onto the bow. And I did have to veto the picture of me on the bow with my fanny pack and air ballooned shirt...ohh not a good look.  As we were beginning to show the wear of a long day, we finished the cruise inside on more comfortable seating.

After we paid for the expensive snaps of us boarding the boat, we did wander the pier a little longer and even ate a $15.00 pair of corn dogs (California vendors don't quit your day job, we still do Corn Dogs better in the Midwest). We should have tried the aquarium, given that it was in the 1000 Places To See Before You Die book, but Golden Gate Park was on the docket for tomorrow.

We ended up touring the city by car. We never got to Lombard Street, but you don't hear me complaining given the fact that you can fall off those hills and die. We did reach a critical point driving through downtown San Francisco when apparently Jane Goodall, at least one Clinton, the Opera and a rock concert were all in town. Neither of my traveling companions had found a rule number 4 place or the required caffeine for several hours, or minutes...depends on who you ask. However, I did win major points by calling out STARBUCKS HO! Since CaDiva continued in her role as chauffeur, we saw serious parallel parking skills. Both CaDiva and HRH called DIBBIES on the bathroom while I ordered by rote - One iced venti no whip mocha and one iced chai no fat with a shot and a COFFEE (Not Dunkin' Donuts). Did you know that Starbucks can run out of Chai? Neither did I. HRH settled for something with caramel a shot and no fat. They were both far more pleasant on the drive to dinner

We stopped at a little neighborhood restaurant, Gazebo Chinese Cuisine, on Noriega in the Outer Sunset. We had a meal to die for. Served family style, we even got HRH to try chopsticks.

The Harvest Fair

A lesson we should have learned and I'll discuss more later, is DO NOT let HRH take a loaded luggage cart down any type of a slope. The first indication came when I looked over my shoulder as we checked out and saw her, wearing her usual sheepish grin, come to a skittering stop at the base of a tiled ramp. But she rolled the cart out to the car and loaded the luggage, even though it indicated the last of the warm cookies.

The loss of Double Tree cookies seemed to have been salved by the location of the font of white-cupped caffeine drive through required by my companions. I may have mentioned that there was no DUNKIN' DONUTS coffee to be had. Nonetheless, we headed out to the Harvest Fair, the inspiration, if not reason for this girl trip. Sonoma County, known for wine, is a major agricultural center for California. I have to acknowledge seeing fresh produce in October holds a certain alien fascination.

But, I saw no indication the cows were any more content there than at home (Oh remind me later to tell you about the cow I saw trying to escape from her happy home near the Novato narrows) Not to mention how out of place corn fields appear among dun colored hillsides and deep blue skies in heart of Autumn. And far be it from me to point out we Midwesterners, do not find it necessary to declare ourselves the (fill in the blank) Capitol of the World, for everything we grow.

Still, we do love fairs. After all, 2004 USA Today declared the Iowa State Fair #2 in the top ten places Americans should visit. It was a natural fit for two Midwesterners and one homesick Californian to spend the day. It was very different and yet oddly familiar from my fair experience.

There was a display and tasting for apples and wine. A small playground with midway rides for the kiddies. A display of antique cars, which had to rank as one of my favorite bits, don't ask me how I managed to not get any pictures of it. We wandered through a sort of "varied industries building" including crystals, handmade jewelry, artwork, and home improvement displays.

When we tired of exploring and it was time to eat HRH went off to Johnny Garlic's stand (the restaurant owned by the Triple D Guy from the food network) and CaDiva and I went off to Willie Birds for a shared Jumbo turkey leg. I'm telling you, I swear they had crossed this thing with an ostrich. And there, as we ate, we discovered the strongest commonality with our fair experience...PEOPLE WATCHING.

Youngsters dashing about with unending energy, young women who thought platform heels and tank tops make a good choice for a fairground, food spattered tops, and tall silly hats. I do love a fair concourse.

Somehow we missed Mom's Apple Pie, which was high on our places to eat. But we did get to see the wine stomp. This is a competition of pairs (stomper and swabby) to see who can get the most juice from a half barrel filled with grapes. The stomper can only use his or her feet while the swabby holds the bottle and keeps the screen clear of pulp and pushes the juice to the funnel. There was also a costume competition which ranged from the sublime to the ridiculous.



We had the pleasure to watch the Blues Girls and two pairs of the six member Grape Stomp Virgins teams in competition. The champions ended up producing over 20 ounces of grape juice in the 10 minutes (it may have been three or twenty...I don't remember, we were laughing and cheering too loud to listen to the rules). My favorite part was one swabby, covered over with pulp and juice in her hair, along her arm, down her front and up her back, looked at her partner, pristine except for some tinting of the ankles and feet, and picked up a couple of hands full of pulp and flung it at her. Revenge was never so sweetly observed.

The day was a success and we poured ourselves back into the car and headed down to San Francisco. Tomorrow was the long anticipated Sunday Brunch and Bay Cruise.

Serendipity for Dinner

I mentioned the breakfast we had in Santa Rosa at the Omelet Express had to count as one of our favorites, even if we hadn't encountered her friend. CaDiva had the french toast with orange juice (yeah, I know, I don't understand it either, but she swears it tastes fine together) and HRH and I each had omelets. HRH liked the flavored iced tea but I found the coffee a little overbearing. Overall, I would definitely go there again. I'm thinking we should stay at the Hotel La Rose. The little hotel was built right after the 1906 fire and refurbished in 1985. The prices are reasonable and it got great reviews. I'll let you know if we get out there again.


By far, one of our favorite dinners came after the sunset at Goat Rock. We had been traipsing about since breakfast at the Omelet Express, all subsequent meals had been on the run or Al fresco. However, CaDiva's old friend gave us a gift certificate to Latitude, the restaurant owned by an old business acquaintance. None of us were actually hungry but it was a long time before breakfast and we would need to check out of the hotel the next morning. Since Latitude was so close to the hotel, we decided to give it a try.

We choose to eat inside, although the patio did have heaters and I'm certain would have been fine had we not spent the early evening on the bluff by the beach. The server was not quite as attentive as he should have been after delivering our meals but the owner was most gracious. And the food was incredible.

HRH had the Chinese Chicken Salad, after certain assurances that the warm sushi rice had never actually encountered raw fish. I reveled in the roasted half chicken with garlic mashed potatoes and steamed veggies. I don't normally like dark meat chicken but this was uniformly moist and tender. CaDiva had the vegetarian penne and her eyes glazed over from the first taste until about three fourths through the service when she just couldn't eat any more. HRH and I made a much better job of our meal but the servings were definitely generous.

Warning Signs you will never see in Iowa

From a restaurant at Pier 39 San Franscisco, October 2009. No Thongs Except on Feet.

Along the 17-Mile Drive south of Monteray, CA October 2009. Tsunami Hazard Zone In the Case of Earthquake go to high ground or inland.

We don't have a lot of life-threatening waves or currents in Iowa.

We have a diverse population in Iowa, but we don't have a single Indian Truck Stop.

Another not so much warning sign, but you have to respect the fact that Route 66 misses Iowa by only this <===> given that it is in passes right through St. Louis. But we picked this one up as we left Texas and headed to New Mexico.

Try as I might, I couldn't get the Bear Crossing sign. But I snagged this one on our honeymoon to the northeast.


I guess just because I haven't seen, doesn't mean it isn't in Iowa. But that particular image back home usually means "It's icy out here, be more careful."








This is most definitely not one you see in Iowa. 

I don't care what it means, that is just wrong at so many levels.

Redwoods and Sunsets

The day started a little more slowly as we grew accustomed to Pacific time. We went to eat at a lovely little place called Omelet Express in Railroad Square Santa Rosa. We could have spent the entire day just haunting the kitschy thrift and antique shops, little book stores and art galleries. As it was we had a great breakfast with way more food than any of us needed. But the thrill was CaDiva encountering a former gentleman friend dining with a young coworker of the pert female persuasion.

Ladies, it was gorgeous. She walked over there, looking seriously great with her newly acquired wavy short hair and adorable vacation outfit and just stood there. It was what we all dream will happen when we encounter a former...gentleman friend...He couldn't get a word out around his blithering. CaDiva said it reminded her of the old Honeymooner's show with Ralph's "Huminah Huminah Huminah"

After humbling himself appropriately, her friend offered us tickets to the Harvest Fair and a dinner nearby our hotel. That is a story unto itself. There was some negotiation and machinations that were beyond our interests but allowed us some shopping time before we could go to his place of business to pick up the tickets.

Which leads us to yet another amendment to the girl trip rules, When a shopping opportunity is presented, it takes an act of congress to cancel it. HRH found a lovely antique perfume bottle for Her Momness.

The next item on the agenda was hunting down the old Italian grocery/deli CaDiva wanted for our picnic. Traverso's had moved from the old location well out into a newly developed section of town but our GPS devise, Jillian, and cell phones got us there in good time. CaDiva said it lacked the charm and selection of the old location, no hardwood floor or lathe and plaster holding aromas of a few generations of feeding the neighborhood. Still, we spent an hour rummaging through the place to find the right wine, sandwiches and salads for our lunch and dinner picnics. Oh, and HRH got some burning hot chips to snack on between shopping and lunch. Note to HRH, you need more lip balm and water before you try those chips again.

The store opened up the wine just enough to let us get at it during lunch but not so open to be illegal in the car. I was the hero for remembering glasses. We packed the food in an insulated Harrod's bag CaDiva picked up on her trip to London and headed out, after everyone visited the ladies' room, of course.

We drove inland and north to Armstrong Grove through miles of stands of eucalyptus trees. Our old gym had a eucalyptus room we treasured before they went belly up. It was our reward for working so hard. And this was just as rewarding without being so intrusive or sweaty for that matter. Dang I wished we had a convertible.

We stopped at the general store, to visit the ladies' and scope out the route. CaDiva was a little disappointed at the number of people, but HRH and I couldn't have been more pleased. The entire stand is only 3/4 of a mile deep but there was access by car well up into the picnic area. We found a table in the shade and ate enrobed in the filtered sun and scented silence. We found ourselves speaking in the hushed tones usually reserved for church. CaDiva telling us about her visits here and how she reveled in the all consuming peace of the place.



We walked the trails as far as CaDiva and I were able. I will always regret that HRH felt she had to hold back for us, but if she hadn't I suppose we wouldn't have had witnesses to CaDiva mistaking the Men's room for ADA accessible restroom. Unfortunately she reads this so I can't post the photographic evidence.

The Colonel Armstrong (for whom the grove is named) was shrouded in an verdant shower of sunbeams. He is over 30 stories high. The walk past him lead us back to the picnic area or down to the Parson, slightly taller though younger, isn't that always the way.



Lunch was one of the best meals we had had so far and we stayed in the grove as late as we dared and still hoped to get back to the coast for sunset.

We followed the Russian River to Goat Rock Beach, looking for a place to fill in our depleted groceries. After a couple of stops, including some window shopping, we decided we would rather enjoy the remnants of lunch than settle for eating at a dine-in cafe. Although we were seriously tempted by Duncan's Mill. The shops were almost too tempting but we were on a mission. Sunset was looming. And the temperature was dropping.

For the only time during our nine days, the temperature on land dropped and the wind got a bite to it. Still we were high on a bluff and could see Goat Rock in front of us, Goat Rock Beach to the right and Arch Rock and Arch Rock Beach to the left. In fact, we didn't even take time to eat. We sat up there, shivering in the car, and watched the show. The sky was absolutely clear except for a single finger of foggy clouds right where the sun was going down. Just enough to add the contrast needed for an dreamlike sunset. Then behind us, in a case of celestial sibling rivalry, a full-pale moon rose in counter point to the sunset.

I could pretend to have words to describe this, but sister's pictures do it more justice.













The evening ended at a great restaurant called Latitude, just up the road from the Double Tree. We would have missed it if not for the gift from CaDiva's old friend. But that is a post for itself. So I'll tell you about it tomorrow.

Bodega Bay

The Double Tree we stayed at was in Rohnert Park. The lobby was extravagant and the room was very comfortable. It also promised the infamous white-cupped caffeine for CaDiva and HRH. There was a minor disappointment, read gnashing of teeth and renting of clothing, when the truth came out. While the products were proudly sold in the gift shop, the required iced Venti no-whip etc...had to be purchased from a nearby drive-through.

On the way out on our first morning, we checked for information on the farm trail maps. No pamphlets were available and the cookies had not been delivered yet. The staff assured HRH if she went to the Bacchus restaurant, the manager would fill her every cookie-desire.

We chose instead to breakfast at Shari's and didn't stop laughing through the entire meal. The server was immediately alerted to our girl trip status and fit right in. We ate and planned and enjoyed ourselves thoroughly.

As she was driving, CaDiva set the route. We headed towards Bodega Bay via the aforementioned drive-through and Santa Rosa to take a peek at her former home. After living in the Midwest for the last five years, CaDiva was surprised at how her former yard had shrunk. I had the same reaction to seeing a formerly terrifyingly high playground slide after a few years growth, but I'm sure it is not the same thing.

Being lifelong plains dwellers, HRH and I were amazed by the diversity and frequency of fruit trees just growing willie-nillie by the roadside, or at least very near sidewalks if a person decided to get out of the car. I'm pleased to say all discussions of fruit theft were postponed and we headed out to the beach.


We drove through Sevastobol and north along the coast highway ending up at Rivers End and Goat Rock, stopping at the Sandpiper Inn for lunch. I know that CaDiva wanted to find some of the farm trail produce stands, but I don't see how any other stops could have improved the day.

We visited several beaches after a quick stop at Surf Shop to get new sunglasses. The two young German boys renting wetsuits and surf booties for their surfing lessons were just bonus. Likewise the stop at a kite shop was part of rule four. I wanted a kite since it was such a beautiful windy day.

HRH, being younger and more fit, took responsibility to launching the kite. I got to hold the string after it was in the air. And this is as it should be, younger sisters taking up the running part and older, more sophisticated sister sitting on a log letting the wind carry her smiley face kite into the clouds.

The day was so lovely, warm and the sky was unbelievably blue. As it was a Thursday, the beaches were not crowded at all. We got to see our first surfers, not of the German newby variety, and laughed at the seagulls stalking any potential food scraps. There was a brief discussion upon HRH's first view of seaweed on the beach, tangled and bulbous, but once assured that it was a plant and didn't move, she reveled in the surf, sun and sand.

We had to leave too soon, since we had plans to visit with some dear friends in the city. We decided on the way back down the coast, as we watch the deer and para-fallers coming out at days end we had to return tomorrow for sunset. We had already planned a picnic in Armstrong Grove, so we would just expand our shop tomorrow for enough for dinner and spend sunset at the beach. But that is for tomorrow.

The Plan and Launch

I mentioned I travel a lot in my work. Over the years, I had accumulated a wealth of miles and points with no particular plan for their use. A year ago in June my partner, CaDiva got the news she had follicular lymphoma. Part of the treatment plan was a recovery celebration. And by the next May, a celebration was truly warranted, CaDiva is in full remission.

Born and raised on the coast, CaDiva had not been back to “HER OCEAN” in five years. She also had a craving for the sights and tastes unique to a gathering known as the Sonoma County Harvest Fair. And so the plan was framed. We had two days in October we had to be in California and we built the trip around that.

Coincidentally, my sister, HRH, turned fifty in August and she was persuaded to let us take her with us. From cross-country car trips to an autumn orchard run that ended in a corn maze, we had proven to be compatible traveling companions but that is all for future issues. All that was left was to set an itinerary.

I had desires for day cruises and brunches, CaDiva wanted the Harvest Fair, Armstrong Grove, and the 17-Mile Drive. HRH wanted to believe everything she dreamt would happen could happen without any active human interaction. As always, she was right.

Magically and mystically the boarding passes were printed and luggage was loaded into the back of the car. It isn’t a car according to members of the boys club, but another rule for the girl trips is that anything with a wheel in each corner and aimed with a fifth wheel in the front is a car. On this occasion we can call it the giant pumpkin carriage since it bore us all, CaDiva, HRH, her spouse and daughter, and me, off to the airport at 4:15 one brisk Wednesday morning in September.

The mystical part is not that there is a 4:15 in the morning, which apparently happens frequently. Nor was it getting us all to the airport on time before God turned on the air. It was truly mystical by virtue of arranging a flight to California from one of those big square states in the middle without laying over in either O’Hare or Denver.

We took off on time and landed in DFW without incident and the appointed support staff awaited our arrival to carry us from Terminal A to Terminal C in time to purchase a light lunch and some version of caffeine unique to one purveyor known by white cups with green circles. This particular form of caffeine, required at regular intervals by my traveling companions, involves less coffee or tea than milk, chocolate, and or caramel. I mention this only because we were not able to stop in Terminal A to get the one and only true coffee from Dunkin Donuts which is apparently not found anywhere else in the airport and I was left drinking airplane water. But, again, this is a matter for a future installment.

The second and longer leg of our journey took us into the San Jose airport. By this time, our bodies thought it was 2:30 PM and we were still a car rental agency and two hours from our hotel. When you ask, as you probably are, why we didn’t fly into the city or even Oakland, the trick to using airline miles is you have to book the flights a lot earlier than you would think. By the time we settled on a travel time, we had to fly into San Jose or lose a day’s travel by landing late into the night.

We arrived at the rental car agency and discovered a major difference in location despite staying with Hertz. We were not impressed by the service, layout, or selection at the SJC Hertz lot when we have been very pleased at other locations. Regardless, we were on our way, with only a short stop at In-N-Out Burger (you have to go there if you ever get a chance…the only burger joint I have found to compare is Backyard Burger in Overland Park) we checked into the Double Tree, picked up our hot cookies and started to vacation.

The Rules of a Girl Trip

After a generation or two of active feminism, I have come to realize that I can and will use the word girl as appropriate. If boys can have old boys club, then we we can have girl trips. The rules for girl trips differ from all other means of travel.

1. Due to the complexity of these relationships, all girl trips must be staffed by only adult women.

2. Whining, Kvetching, and Moaning is not only allowed, it is required - dishing is optional, as long as at least one person is foolish enough to leave the room.

3. We don't care how fast we get there - Some of my best girl trips involved finding we were lost in a new or interesting place or driving 100 miles out of our way because rule two was invoked prior to the freeway exit.

4. Potty, tinkle, pee or rest stop --- call it what you want, you get it as often as you want without making explanation. Maybe we should have called that rule number one?

5. During girl trips, all calories are lined in Teflon and thus do not stick.

6. Never set an alarm on a girl trip. And if the other women wake up too soon for you, the traditional pillow-over-the-head indicator will be accepted for "No, go ahead, you can shower first...I'm fine."

7. All photos taken on a girl trip are subject to veto by the subject.

8. What happens on a girl trip stays on the girl trip unless one of you starts a blog.

Amendments to Rules of a Girl Trip

A1. If it has a wheel in each corner and a fifth wheel to aim it, it is a car.

A2. Shopping on a girl trip is like stopping to smell the roses, you just gotta do it.

A.3. There is no such thing as a wrong turn on a girl trip. If you can't go whale watching due to bad weather, then take the lighthouse trolley tour. If you don't get out to LL Bean because you are crashing in the hotel room, it is still all part of the plan.

Why blog? Why now?

So, I'm sitting in my living room watching Dances and I type "Blog" into my search engine. Why?

OK, partly it is because there is no one on this season that I care about. Not to mention Samantha annoys me every time she opens her mouth. The main impetus is jet lag. Whenever I get home from a trip, I think I should write this stuff down or I'll never remember it all.

I travel for work, although this most recent trip was for vacation. It was my sister's fiftieth birthday and my partner's celebration of six months in remission. So we flew into San Jose, CA, drove up to Sonoma county for the Harvest Fair, down to San Francisco, along the coast to Monterey and back to San Jose. We had a wonderful time and I want to capture it all before it melts into the pool of earlier memories.

If this works the way I hope it will, I will take each experience, which hotels we liked, meals we ate, whales we watched and relive the memories here with my friends and family.