I was right, I did miss the maternity pants

Hello, all! I have returned from Southern California! It was extremely beautiful.


I know this for a fact because I repeatedly said, "Well, it is beautiful" in the same voice one would say, "Well, at least he went quickly."

Small blessings!

Which is to say, it was not exactly for me. Not SoCal's fault. I believe I am more temperamentally inclined toward, I don't know, Northern Europe. In December. Layers and coffee and scowling, I mean. I would probably move to Scandinavia if I believed I could find palatable liquor there. It was pretty much like those California episodes of Mad Men where Don Draper stops seeming awesome and instead seems sort of awkward and uptight and out-of-place. And I know what you're thinking: Erica, please stop comparing yourself to Don Draper for once. Enough with the striking parallels. But I'm sorry, the symmetry is almost spooky.

The only meaningful difference is that I'm guessing Don Draper did not take pictures of all of his food, but it's not like we know that for sure.

He probably would have taken a picture of this bad boy.

And if you're ever served a salad with multiple flags in it and fail to record it digitally, we are not friends.

This one tasted like chicken!
Okay, in San Diego's defense, they do boast a Hash House A Go Go, which, in retrospect, is where I should have spent the entire four days.

The size of that straw allowed me to slide right down into this Bloody Mary and splash around, Augustus Gloop-style.

Thank GOODNESS Dan had the foresight to get the combination platter here.

I'm still not sure what happened here. I mean, I ate it. Almost all of it. And...I'm looking at it now. Yet I can't quite wrap my mind around it.
Most of the wedding food was very dim and blurry, but this is all that matters: late night grilled cheese (and sliders) on the way out of the reception.

Speaking of foresight.
Thank you to Actual Californian Sarah for steering us toward The Broken Yolk:

They have eggs there!
And thank you to Dan for ordering a French Toast Monte Cristo.

I sleep better at night knowing that this exists.

And big huge thank you to other Actual Californian Elizabeth for soliciting a burrito recommendation for us, which we cashed in late night in the hotel room for maybe the most satisfying meal of the trip.

Also for mailing a lobster hat to me (unrelated) (neither here nor there).
We also had breakfast at our extremely fancy hotel and somehow Dan managed to snag some bread pudding? Made with croissants? And bacon? You know, I'd had a bit to drink by that point in the trip, so I feel like I probably made that up.

It was all a dreeeeeeeeeam.
Anyway, I've got to go, someone's grandparents re-programmed her to wake up at 5:30 am for some reason and I'm sacked.

Practical jokers.