The random adventures of me...and myself
The only thing I knew I wanted in San Francisco was crab. There's a lot to be said for having seafood fresh. Even if it's flown in that day...it's not the same. I haven't had lobster since I visited Maine and I don't eat crab outside of California. They haul it up that day and boil it on the wharf in these big pots of seawater. The crabs don't mind. Doesn't it look like they're just in a big jacuzzi?
We ate two...in about two minutes. I wanted more but I had to settle for an ice cream sundae at Ghirardelli's. The highlight of the night was really mom getting scared by the bushman and then kissed by a stranger as we waited to cross the street.
The next day we headed over to Monterey to check out the new seahorse exhibit at the aquarium. We stopped by a few of the other exhibits on our way out.
Once upon a time I was on the cover of a magazine silhouetted against this tank of moon jellies...
...that was the year I was a T.A. for Dr. Braithwaite. Possibly two of the happiest summers in my life, once as a student and again as the T.A. I lived in Monterey, the days started with scriptures and Aesop's fables, some days were spent collecting critters and beasts in tide pools starting at 5am, others were spent dissecting things or studying plankton in microscopes. Occasionally Dr. B sent me out to glue numbers on Owl Limpets for his research. All the lectures were interesting and given to the sound of ocean waves out our lab window and the gurgling aquarium tanks. There wasn't any homework or tests and we spent the evenings exploring the beaches or the farmer's market in town. Everyone got an A.
Before the sunset I wanted to try a new hike. We always tend to go to the same old places. I found a book in my parents house on day hikes around Monterey and I picked out this one. It was to the summit of Jack's Peak, the highest point in Monterey county. It's just over a 1000 ft and it was less than a mile long. We got some geocaches (and maybe some poison oak) and enjoyed this nice view from the top. I expected a little more view. I'd forgotten that in California a lot of the summits are covered in trees. Back in Utah they're mostly bald rock on top. The colors were even more golden in person. I could live here. I even found a piece of property for sale down the road. I was thinking some of my friends and I could start a commune. Like this one.
We found a geocache in the pioneer section of the old Sacramento cemetery. I really liked it there and wandered around a lot looking at everything. It was a lot more fun than wandering around old Utah cemeteries. Older, more interesting, and a lot prettier.
This archway was covered in climbing roses. I wish I could see it when it blooms.
I thought it was funny how almost all the tombstones said the exact age the person was when they died and where they were native to. Mine would have said 30years, 6 months, 10 days Native of California.
These two gravestones I found very depressing. This was all they said on them. I can understand the first one, maybe the family was poor or something, but the second one? That's just rude. Neither of them had a full name, date of birth or death. I checked the backs, nothing there either. Who were these people?
Here are a few of the more luxurious gravestones. I always think unvisited graves are depressing. For this reason if I don't have children when I die I think I'd like to be cremated rather than lay in the ground under some standard headstone waiting for no one to visit me...or buried in an unmarked grave on one of those new nature preserve type cemeteries. Actually I don't really care since I'll be dead, I just don't want to be embalmed. Gross. 

This is a much better way to end things...my parents are silly. 
Footnote: "cobwebby" was in the spell check but Otillia was not. Poor Otillia.
You may be thinking, oh she likes shoveling her driveway, but it's not that simple. The conditions must be just right for it to be my winter bliss activity, otherwise I don't want any part of it. There are 4 conditions that must be met:
Between midnight and 3am
Dutch wooden shoes
Long down coat
Fresh snow not yet driven over
Sometimes when I'm all finished shoveling I don't want to stop and end up clearing the walkway next to my yard that leads into the next neighborhood. It's so peaceful being out there in the cold alone at that time of night. I'm slightly scared of the dark but new snow seems to make everything glow outside and the cold quiet of the early morning makes all the difference.
(One time I made an exception and was shoveling in the early evening while waiting to be picked up by a date who was late because of a bad storm. He caught me out there in my wooden shoes, it was the first time we'd met, I took it for a good omen, and indeed he's turned out to be one of my favorite people. That's a one time exception though.)
Let's talk about the the wooden shoes....
I could write paragraphs and pages and books about how much I love wearing my wooden shoes in the snow. They keep my feet so warm, they never slip, they make that wonderful clip-clop sound, and they're just plain fun. The snow does tend to build up on them in deep snow and I have to stop to knock it off or I find myself in unstable platforms and 6 feet tall.

When I'm done they go back under the table in my entryway as a souvenir display from my trip to Holland. But, I bought them at a shoe store there, they were meant to be worn.
Till the next snowstorm...