California Vacation: French Dips and Folklorico

Today, we left Santa Barbara -- maybe for the last time, who can tell? Husband's Mother is a delightful woman and always a cordial hostess, but I worry about her energy level. After being mostly alone for a decade, it's hard for her to have the five of us there--especially the girls. And it's hard for me to anticipate all her needs or expectations and try to corral and control the children toward that end. I think it's just an exhausting time for everyone concerned, and I'm not sure how much any of the adults are enjoying it anymore, really. Sad? Not really -- just reality. I think shorter visits will be the order of the day from here on out. You know what Benjamin Franklin said about visitors and fish...

But, while we were there, everyone made a good effort and successfully enjoyed one another; the spirit is willing, if the flesh is weak. Husband's younger brother came over and made chorrizo for breakfast, even though he had been at a rehearsal until late the night before. At 45 years old, he has taken some acting classes and has been cast in his first play; I think he's a background player with a few lines. Good for him!

Once we piled into the rental van and the children finished their teary good-byes, we drove the 2 hours to Los Angeles and had lunch at one of Husband's favorite restaurants from his childhood -- Phillipe's Home of the French Dip Sandwich. He thinks I don't like it, but it's not true. I don't care for the logistics; trying to find a table there and getting settled is a little like doing the same thing in the food court at any mall on a Saturday. But once that hurdle is jumped, all is well; the food is delicious and very reasonably priced. There he is above and to the right, showing off a pickled egg. I love it when he turns into a little boy like that right before my eyes.

After our delicious french dips, we drove around the corner to the Olvera Street marketplace. It's a little like San Antonio's Market Square, only better! and cheaper! There were hundreds and hundreds of Mexican folklorico dresses in about a half-dozen stores and booths -- the girls were pining for them. Maybe we'll rethink it, and purchase some on the way out of town later in the week -- or maybe I'll add a sewing project to my list of good intentions.

It's good to be hunkered down in the hotel now. There is a fairly new ironing board and iron at my disposal, and I'm confident that the shower head will spray at a pleasant 45-degree angle.