Being in San Diego for Thanksgiving, couldn’t have
been any more fun. Our nightly dinners were epic. We bought live Dungeness
Crabs at the Oriental market and fixed them at home. A radiant patio heater
stood guard by a cozy booth at our favorite Sushi place. Uni that smelled of
the ocean. Gonads have never tasted so good. Toro like butter.
Thanksgiving itself was an all-day epicurean feast. The hot tub heavenly, visits to local landmarks, super afternoon excursions. I couldn’t love my family nor enjoy wallowing in their company any more than I already do. Bright, upbeat, successful people. Funny as hell. On our last night there, we played a game on an iPhone where one person holds the phone to their forehead as it displays a word. Teammates have to get the person with the iPhone to guess the word without them actually saying it. Then the phone gets passed to a member of the opposite team. But tension is mounting as the clock is ticking and whichever team is stuck with the phone when time runs out, looses. We got to the point of throwing the phone into the lap of an opponent, just to get it out of our hands. At one point I was trying to guess the word “prostitute” while pointing accusingly at Ruth. We have a video, laughing our asses off.
Is there anything better than sharing incredible food and unending laughter with the people you love?
Sadly, perhaps, and with apologies to Ruth & Andrew, Hannah & Pablo, and my bright and funny wife, Carla, the answer is yes, yes there is something better.
Coming back home. That’s my favorite part of any vacation, you know, that end part. Not the very last part, but when it is completely over and I’m back in my own house.
The icing on that particular cake? The urgency of this dog to give me manic kisses. Doing her best circus jumps, greeting me again and again, room to room, every five minutes, darting her tongue out with each high jump. Doing her best to slip me some tongue that only moments before had been licking furiously at the nasty glob of dark goo on our concrete steps out back where I had accidentally stepped on a small toad last week.
It’s good to be home.
Thanksgiving itself was an all-day epicurean feast. The hot tub heavenly, visits to local landmarks, super afternoon excursions. I couldn’t love my family nor enjoy wallowing in their company any more than I already do. Bright, upbeat, successful people. Funny as hell. On our last night there, we played a game on an iPhone where one person holds the phone to their forehead as it displays a word. Teammates have to get the person with the iPhone to guess the word without them actually saying it. Then the phone gets passed to a member of the opposite team. But tension is mounting as the clock is ticking and whichever team is stuck with the phone when time runs out, looses. We got to the point of throwing the phone into the lap of an opponent, just to get it out of our hands. At one point I was trying to guess the word “prostitute” while pointing accusingly at Ruth. We have a video, laughing our asses off.
Is there anything better than sharing incredible food and unending laughter with the people you love?
Sadly, perhaps, and with apologies to Ruth & Andrew, Hannah & Pablo, and my bright and funny wife, Carla, the answer is yes, yes there is something better.
Coming back home. That’s my favorite part of any vacation, you know, that end part. Not the very last part, but when it is completely over and I’m back in my own house.
The icing on that particular cake? The urgency of this dog to give me manic kisses. Doing her best circus jumps, greeting me again and again, room to room, every five minutes, darting her tongue out with each high jump. Doing her best to slip me some tongue that only moments before had been licking furiously at the nasty glob of dark goo on our concrete steps out back where I had accidentally stepped on a small toad last week.
It’s good to be home.
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