California Love

I up and went to the Land of Rice-a-Roni a little bit ago, to give a talk about some profesh biz. I’m fancy, I know. Fancy in Sancy Francy, is the title of the trip.

I tagged on some fun along the way of course, because that’s how I do. Much of it revolved around visiting with friends and family, most of whom have a proliferation of cute baby kiddos to play with. Take my friend Jen, for example. She is clearly centering her entire life around the concept of adorableness because: her house? Cute. Herself? Gorgeous. Her hubs? Sweet. Her KIDDO? DARLING. This little kid runs around with a gang of stuffed animals, all bunnies. Like, exponential cuteness. UNFAIR.

I then went to hang out with my brosef and sister-in-law-sef and their little baby girlie. And that baby sweetheart? Giggliest little cutestuff you ever set eyes on. Like, I was almost killed. She almost cuddled me to death over two days, was the first attempt. And then the second attempt was when I had to leave. That one almost did me in completemente. Oh, that little girl! I will never recover, I am sure.

Besides amazing friends, family, and rugrats, the other thing of note was foods! Oh, the vittles I met and demolished on this trip. May I say: if you are in Oakland, go eat a row of tacos at Xolo. If you are in Berkeley, go eat some risotto at Revival.

Last but not least, my fella and I were eating gelato in Union Square and we saw a pigeon fly right down onto a guy’s table and pick up a roll OFFA HIS PLATE RIGHT IN THE GUY’S FACE and fly away. He’s been living most his life livin’ in a pigeon-gangster paradise, is how I believe the original Coolio song went.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s