I read the title to dw and asked: "L.A. Venimus, vidimus, vicimus. -- Los Angeles, we came, we saw, we conquered. Do you think that's too pretentious?"
And dw in her concise and certainly not pretentious manner answered: "Yes."
I considered debating the point but I recognize that my side is pretty weak so I've decided to just use the title; confident that dw is discrete enough that her sigh and groan will be inaudible and everyone else is out of hearing range.
A few weeks ago we had an early mid-winter crisis and decided to drive to Southern California for sun, fun and decadent pleasures. And rather than going for speed we chose to drive hwys 101 and 1 staying as close to the coast as possible. We made a few stops during the two day drive to San Francisco.
At Crescent City we visited a co-op art gallery which, mirabile dictu, (sticking with the Latin theme) had only one painting of a crashing wave. Probably the other coastal galleries will band together and drum the Crescent City gallery out of the Society For Proper Coastal Art.
And further south we spent some time looking at the area where I lived nearly 60 years ago. It's remarkable how little it has changed. The communities of Klamath, Klamath Glen, and Orick are the same size they were then. (Since I lived there, the Redwood National Park has been established -- and it didn't increase the population) --- Although the two Klamaths have been relocated, since both were wiped out by floods. ---
The logging industry is nearly gone, of course, (really bad form to log in a National Park) so several saw mills have been removed.
The house we lived in is still there (as a tourist cabin).
My grade school is still there (Orick) -- it's the same size and even painted the same color.
The 5 mile road to the actual beach is the same as it was 60 years ago: heavily pot-holed gravel and mud, mostly one lane twisting over a series of ridges. It's amazing that the park hasn't improved the road.
Part of the old 101 is open for cars (most of it has been turned into a pedestrian / bike lane) -- we drove that section and stopped to look at a WWII radar / anti-aircraft station. It was disguised as a small farm. (Originally the concrete blocks were covered with wood siding)
Stopped at Eureka for lunch and I looked for a copy of the Arcata Newspaper (I had already looked in Arcata) but didn't find a copy. The paper is noted for it's reporting of the official police blotter -- such as:
---A man in a gray shirt and jeans enjoyed a magazine as he took a dump in a 10th street parking lot ---
--- A pit bull is being allowed to roam freely on Stewart Avenue ---
--- Someone put a plastic baby doll inside a wicker basket on Spear Avenue and set it on fire ---
--- A man watered a wall at City Hall and then used the public phone with his unwashed hands ---
--- A woman charged $232.86 to the account of her estranged husband and signed the receipt "Asshole" ---
--- "GET OFF ME" a woman yelled from a Valley East apartment, accompanied by door slamming
--- In a shocking development a man with a beard and beanie smoked dope on the H Street sidewalk ---
--- More yelling on the Plaza ---
--- South G Street report: A cow mooed for more than an hour. ---
It is possible that report #7, if common, is somehow connected to the other reports. And this is just a sampling --- there are many, many more.
During the afternoon drive, dw said she needed a Fatboy. We stopped and looked at convenient places but found no Fatboys.
Newly retired dw remarked that her new goal in life would be to have a Fatboy everyday at 4 p.m. and already she was in danger of failing. I remarked that it was an overly modest goal but I would do what I could to help her achieve it. Alas on the very first day of her new goal in life, she sort of failed --- We found no Fatboys, so she had to make do with a Big Bunny.
In the evening we made it to San Francisco, where we stayed two days with our friends Kate and John G. (owners of the sybarite cat Beaner)
And dw in her concise and certainly not pretentious manner answered: "Yes."
I considered debating the point but I recognize that my side is pretty weak so I've decided to just use the title; confident that dw is discrete enough that her sigh and groan will be inaudible and everyone else is out of hearing range.
A few weeks ago we had an early mid-winter crisis and decided to drive to Southern California for sun, fun and decadent pleasures. And rather than going for speed we chose to drive hwys 101 and 1 staying as close to the coast as possible. We made a few stops during the two day drive to San Francisco.
At Crescent City we visited a co-op art gallery which, mirabile dictu, (sticking with the Latin theme) had only one painting of a crashing wave. Probably the other coastal galleries will band together and drum the Crescent City gallery out of the Society For Proper Coastal Art.
And further south we spent some time looking at the area where I lived nearly 60 years ago. It's remarkable how little it has changed. The communities of Klamath, Klamath Glen, and Orick are the same size they were then. (Since I lived there, the Redwood National Park has been established -- and it didn't increase the population) --- Although the two Klamaths have been relocated, since both were wiped out by floods. ---
The logging industry is nearly gone, of course, (really bad form to log in a National Park) so several saw mills have been removed.
The house we lived in is still there (as a tourist cabin).
My grade school is still there (Orick) -- it's the same size and even painted the same color.
The 5 mile road to the actual beach is the same as it was 60 years ago: heavily pot-holed gravel and mud, mostly one lane twisting over a series of ridges. It's amazing that the park hasn't improved the road.
Part of the old 101 is open for cars (most of it has been turned into a pedestrian / bike lane) -- we drove that section and stopped to look at a WWII radar / anti-aircraft station. It was disguised as a small farm. (Originally the concrete blocks were covered with wood siding)
---A man in a gray shirt and jeans enjoyed a magazine as he took a dump in a 10th street parking lot ---
--- A pit bull is being allowed to roam freely on Stewart Avenue ---
--- Someone put a plastic baby doll inside a wicker basket on Spear Avenue and set it on fire ---
--- A man watered a wall at City Hall and then used the public phone with his unwashed hands ---
--- A woman charged $232.86 to the account of her estranged husband and signed the receipt "Asshole" ---
--- "GET OFF ME" a woman yelled from a Valley East apartment, accompanied by door slamming
--- In a shocking development a man with a beard and beanie smoked dope on the H Street sidewalk ---
--- More yelling on the Plaza ---
--- South G Street report: A cow mooed for more than an hour. ---
It is possible that report #7, if common, is somehow connected to the other reports. And this is just a sampling --- there are many, many more.
During the afternoon drive, dw said she needed a Fatboy. We stopped and looked at convenient places but found no Fatboys.
Newly retired dw remarked that her new goal in life would be to have a Fatboy everyday at 4 p.m. and already she was in danger of failing. I remarked that it was an overly modest goal but I would do what I could to help her achieve it. Alas on the very first day of her new goal in life, she sort of failed --- We found no Fatboys, so she had to make do with a Big Bunny.
In the evening we made it to San Francisco, where we stayed two days with our friends Kate and John G. (owners of the sybarite cat Beaner)
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