From time to time in life, a person experiences what they could classify as a perfect day. I'm going to add today to the list.
Lazy morning starts with homemade breakfast by Willis. A Depression-era skillet dish involving potatoes, onions, polish sausage and spaghetti sauce. Sounds suspect, tastes delish.
After, headed west for my long-awaited PCH drive. Santa Monica to just north of Malibu. The weather was perfect, the mix I'd made for the occasion was perfect, the traffic was perfect, it was just... the whole damn thing was perfect. Spent a little time on the beach in Malibu then headed down to Venice. Amazing people-watching. Enjoyed sauv blanc and jalapeno poppers and watched the sun set. Finished the day by sneaking into the Roosevelt Hotel's pool bar with Willis. Not overly posh, but VERY L.A. Basically a silicone convention. Terribly worried I'm going to end up getting knocked unconscious by some stumble-y drunk strumpet's Frankenrack.
This place pulled out all the stops today. Have to remind myself that on this portion of the trip, I'm essentially on vacation. Of COURSE it's going to be charming when you're on vacation. LIVING is another matter. Though, I'm feeling less and less sure about most of the assertions I've made over the years.
Trying to remain open and refrain from evaluating until I let the place steep some more.
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