Quoth The Richard Pryor, "I Can't Feel Anything In My Leg!"
Your first wedding anniversary is “paper.” Your twenty-fifth is your “silver” and your fiftieth is “gold.” Now, I haven’t looked it up, but after this weekend, I’m sure the fifteenth is the “derriere goes numb” anniversary. Whoa! Hold on, put the brick down and let me explain first.
I’ve been losing sleep over what to get the Missus and how to express my love in the blog, so I skipped the latter and concentrated on the former. I was going to get her another wedding ring because the one I bought her was decent for what was within my means, at the time.
Despite what they tell me in radio and TV ads, I don’t believe for a second that jewelers are my friends. I know she likes the earrings I got her for her birthday, but I couldn’t trust a jeweler to sell me the type of ring I want to buy her without it having some serious flaws or without me getting fleeced. So I bought her something else and I’ll post on that as soon as I get the thing hooked up.
Her present to me was that we go here. I’ve promised Procrastinator Jr. that we would go to Yosemite for the last three years, but something always comes up financially or in terms of illness. We’re all on the tail end of a monster cold, courtesy of a “Back To School” night a couple weeks ago, yet the money is right this month.
So we were off…
…except there was a birthday party to be attend on Saturday. We, or I should say, the Missus and Procrastinator Jr. couldn’t flake it off. It’s a good friend of Junior’s and plus, we get along real well with the friend’s parents, so they went. I flaked things up by sleeping late and not getting everything packed and ready, the night before.
The end result? A late start. We left San Francisco at around 6:45 pm and according to Mapquest, the two hundred and nine mile drive should’ve taken three hours and fifty-one minutes. And you know what? They’re not that far off…if you don’t need to eat along the way…or use the bathroom…or if you’re not worried about losing circulation below the waist, sure, you could do it within that time.
Me? Hells no.
The drive that cuts through the Central Valley of California is the world’s best sleep aid. What’s the difference between Sacramento and Stockton? Sacramento has a jazz festival and more tall buildings than the other cities and towns that make up culo, I mean, the “bucolic” setting of the Central Valley of California.
I kid, but only by so much. Sure, there are things to do in Sacramento when it isn’t flooding or sweltering, but it’s just a bigger version of all the other geographically and culturally flat cities that run down the middle until you get to L.A. There’s little to distinguish one mini-mall from another, one grain silo from the next, and one tipped cow from…oh, wait, in Merced, they have to tip goats, lest they actually hurt a cow and thus, devastate the town’s economy.
I had to edit my rant down, because I don’t dislike folks in the Central Valley. I just have a hard time understanding why they don’t try to at least emulate their big sister city, Sacramento, by trying to attract real entertainment or culture.
I will say that my ass was completely asleep by the time we got to Modesto, no thanks to what passes as radio down there. Preachers, really bad Tejano and Norteno music own seventy percent of the dial. The rest? Let’s just say you can’t play two good songs in a row or you the Central Valley equivalent of the FCC will put you away.
I lost the rest of sensation and thought between Merced and Fish Camp. The roads there are designed to negate effective usage of your cruise control and are modified for maximum darkness at night. We arrived at Tenaya so numb, that we would’ve voted Republican in exchange for a warm bed. Luckily, the staff was friendly and did not want to offer such a Faustian bargain.
Saturday was a wash and Sunday held the early promise for Procrastinator Jr. of swimming in one of two pools. Big mistake. The pools didn’t open until 7:00 and we were supposed to wake up at 8:30, but guess who was up at 7:30? What made that difficult was the fact that we didn’t get to bed until 1:15, but kids and pools, are like dogs and walks. You will do it on their time, whether you want to or not.
After swimming and a nice breakfast buffet, we spent most of the day here. It takes your breath away when you see it. And if it doesn’t, looking at the idiots through a telescope, walking across Half Dome, will.
If I seem a tad grumpy and ingrate-like, I apologize. I should thank my stars that I married such a wonderful woman who is still spontaneous and still goes above and beyond to make me happy. It meant a lot to me to get to see Yosemite for the first time and to get away from the job from hell. I just wish that Merced had an airport.
The Soundtrack To The Adventure: Grover Washington Jr. All My Tomorrows and Paradise. Nikka Costa Everybody’s Got Their Something, Al Green’s The Love Songs Collection and of course, Bill Withers and Grover Washington Jr.‘s “Just The Two Of Us.” Because I’m corny like that.
I’ve been losing sleep over what to get the Missus and how to express my love in the blog, so I skipped the latter and concentrated on the former. I was going to get her another wedding ring because the one I bought her was decent for what was within my means, at the time.
Despite what they tell me in radio and TV ads, I don’t believe for a second that jewelers are my friends. I know she likes the earrings I got her for her birthday, but I couldn’t trust a jeweler to sell me the type of ring I want to buy her without it having some serious flaws or without me getting fleeced. So I bought her something else and I’ll post on that as soon as I get the thing hooked up.
Her present to me was that we go here. I’ve promised Procrastinator Jr. that we would go to Yosemite for the last three years, but something always comes up financially or in terms of illness. We’re all on the tail end of a monster cold, courtesy of a “Back To School” night a couple weeks ago, yet the money is right this month.
So we were off…
…except there was a birthday party to be attend on Saturday. We, or I should say, the Missus and Procrastinator Jr. couldn’t flake it off. It’s a good friend of Junior’s and plus, we get along real well with the friend’s parents, so they went. I flaked things up by sleeping late and not getting everything packed and ready, the night before.
The end result? A late start. We left San Francisco at around 6:45 pm and according to Mapquest, the two hundred and nine mile drive should’ve taken three hours and fifty-one minutes. And you know what? They’re not that far off…if you don’t need to eat along the way…or use the bathroom…or if you’re not worried about losing circulation below the waist, sure, you could do it within that time.
Me? Hells no.
The drive that cuts through the Central Valley of California is the world’s best sleep aid. What’s the difference between Sacramento and Stockton? Sacramento has a jazz festival and more tall buildings than the other cities and towns that make up culo, I mean, the “bucolic” setting of the Central Valley of California.
I kid, but only by so much. Sure, there are things to do in Sacramento when it isn’t flooding or sweltering, but it’s just a bigger version of all the other geographically and culturally flat cities that run down the middle until you get to L.A. There’s little to distinguish one mini-mall from another, one grain silo from the next, and one tipped cow from…oh, wait, in Merced, they have to tip goats, lest they actually hurt a cow and thus, devastate the town’s economy.
I had to edit my rant down, because I don’t dislike folks in the Central Valley. I just have a hard time understanding why they don’t try to at least emulate their big sister city, Sacramento, by trying to attract real entertainment or culture.
I will say that my ass was completely asleep by the time we got to Modesto, no thanks to what passes as radio down there. Preachers, really bad Tejano and Norteno music own seventy percent of the dial. The rest? Let’s just say you can’t play two good songs in a row or you the Central Valley equivalent of the FCC will put you away.
I lost the rest of sensation and thought between Merced and Fish Camp. The roads there are designed to negate effective usage of your cruise control and are modified for maximum darkness at night. We arrived at Tenaya so numb, that we would’ve voted Republican in exchange for a warm bed. Luckily, the staff was friendly and did not want to offer such a Faustian bargain.
Saturday was a wash and Sunday held the early promise for Procrastinator Jr. of swimming in one of two pools. Big mistake. The pools didn’t open until 7:00 and we were supposed to wake up at 8:30, but guess who was up at 7:30? What made that difficult was the fact that we didn’t get to bed until 1:15, but kids and pools, are like dogs and walks. You will do it on their time, whether you want to or not.
After swimming and a nice breakfast buffet, we spent most of the day here. It takes your breath away when you see it. And if it doesn’t, looking at the idiots through a telescope, walking across Half Dome, will.
If I seem a tad grumpy and ingrate-like, I apologize. I should thank my stars that I married such a wonderful woman who is still spontaneous and still goes above and beyond to make me happy. It meant a lot to me to get to see Yosemite for the first time and to get away from the job from hell. I just wish that Merced had an airport.
The Soundtrack To The Adventure: Grover Washington Jr. All My Tomorrows and Paradise. Nikka Costa Everybody’s Got Their Something, Al Green’s The Love Songs Collection and of course, Bill Withers and Grover Washington Jr.‘s “Just The Two Of Us.” Because I’m corny like that.
Labels: Travel
posted by Writeprocrastinator at 1:31 AM
5 Comments:
Nikka Costa rocks, as does Yosemite.
For a place that probably won't fleece you, you might try BlueNile.com. Granted, I say that with absolutely no knowledge of jewelry, but my friend and her husband used Blue Nile and they love their wedding rings. She's also been told that her stones are very clear (not yellow), with very few and hard to see inclusions. And the price was apparently just right.
Great music. Nikka Costa, Al Green, and Just the Two of Us are all on my iPod.
As far as diamonds go, I think everyone can benefit from reading the diamond glossary on Tiffany's website. You don't ever have to buy a thing from them (so overpriced) but it's good to know the standards that separate great, good and "meh".
Thank you ladies for the jewelery advice. I have to wait for another three paychecks to fall in one month to think about it, which won't happen again this year.
Why doesn't Nikka sell more records???
Great travel story! My favorite since the original National Lampoon's Vacation.
The concept of roads modified for maximum darkness caused me to chortle, which is not good at work. Luckily, I was crafty enough to turn it into a cough. No one appears the wiser here in cubicle hell.
Thanks Haahnster. As far as the roads? I imagine that they're worse during the winter, as they veer off at sharp angles and it seems like every other mile, there is a sign that says "icy road."
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