We departed our condo on Dana Point’s Strands Beach today. But not without a quick morning rush back to the beach.
Our Friday was spent in Dana Point Harbor with some tandem kayaks. Thinking ahead, my aunt packed a waterbag with a tow line for my mother and her to pawn off some labor — only my youngest siblings were foolish enought to get close to the ladies’ kayak. My aunt also had a sweet little waterproof Sanyo digital camera. I snapped a few worthy photos, but, more importantly, had a cool toy to bring to the beach (yes, video will come of the Pacific surf). Then, Friday night, we took to little bit of tradition when we all piled into Macaroni Grill for our last night’s meal. My kid brother spilled creativity all over the table in the form of crayon depictions of our favorite N64 Super Smash Brothers characters. I took a last spin through the Orange County hills with my other brother and my cousins in my cousin’s pimpmobile. Needless to say, that was fun.
Upon arrival back in Illinois, I first notice how heavy and stale the air feels. There is a speed limit under 45 on residential streets. There are no hills. For some reason, there is no summer season in Illinois anymore.
I will never say “the OC”. I am going to dump the mandals for some better flipflops. Freakshow in Venice still awaits. No complaints otherwise.
Quote of the week:
“How do they trap the sunlight in there?” (in reference to the LED reading lights in the rental van)