Well, Rachel has flown the coop to Sacramento as it were, taking her Hall and Oates records with her and leaving behind a trail of chatchkies and tears. I know she'll have to come back to Santa Cruz eventually for her Garfield mugs and her copy of Joy of Cooking that she can't even make a salad without, but in the meantime I'm kinda lonely. The pictures that follow are from our farewell driving adventure to beautiful Watsonville, California. We also stopped in Corralitos to go to pig out on sausage, and before you even suggest something, no, I was not speaking figuratively!
Here I am taking pictures, enjoying myself as I typically do-- with fun-loving flare!
Please note that I crocheted that blue scarf myself using thrifted yarn (I love a good bargain). Look how it enhances my natural beauty, as I am making my "Parisian Coquette" face.
What do you get when you type my name into google? It could be purely coincidental, but judging by her use of my patented Quiet Scorn Face, I reckon this old gal is a bona fide relative. I wish I could get my hands on this trading card of her and, oh, I don't know, glue it onto a paper doily. That would be a pretty classy affair.
So, Cassie has moved to New York to do what the New Yorkers do-- eat excellent cheese, and possibly get famous-- so that means my friend count is down by nearly 40%. These pictures are from our recent farewell. We're at our favorite "french" bakery, a place that might as well be called Bourgeoisie's but is in fact called Kelly's. It is there that Cassie and I used to chat for hours amidst the aging hippies, pregnant yuppies, and delicious pastries. Sadly, this is no more. I'm trying to just pour my heart (and more importantly, some sauces and jams) into my canning hobby, but I can't help but feel a little blue. I guess I can start courting my friendship with Rach with new ferocity. She took this picture of me as we were enjoying luncheon at the Indian Food Buffet. I bet you are thinking that the Indian Buffet is not conducive to romance. I bet you think that a visit to the Indian buffet is only good for inducing hours of painful gas. Gentle Reader, you are partially correct, but despite my intestinal rumblings, I can still muster a twinkle in my eye! And once the twinkle subsides, pictured here is the exact moment of painful gas onset.