LXXXIX: Half Moon Bay (Part I)

Exploring our temporary digs in Half Moon Bay. At least we get our own bed.

John and I must share a chair, however, because She is using the desk chair for work, which leaves us only the armchairs. From which to stare at her.

Jim gets his own because neither of us will
sit with him.

Then John found this, so of course that's made him incredibly happy:

It reads: "Private Wine Cellar"

Bathroom is massive . . .

It's the kind of tub that's always trying to kill Her.

Might just stick with the shower.

We have a lovely view of the ocean but there's too much of a glare at this hour to take a decent photo. Will try later, once the sun is down a bit. If we're lucky, she'll get stuck on something and take us for a walk . . .

LXXXVIII: Happy . . .

This was our Christmas:

Can you find us?

And when we finally got out of the tree:

Wasn't me.

Later in the week, Jim attempted yet another escape, but they were only going back down to the Embarcadero. Again. They ate at Mijita . . .

Then went on to the Exploratorium, where She climbed into what's known as a Utica crib and scared children walking through (they thought she was a dummy . . . and then she moved).

To think we might have left her . . . And Jim . . .
Such are missed opportunities in life.

She kept him under guard because of the crowds; otherwise, he'd have had the perfect chance to make his getaway. But outside he did manage to climb to the top of a suspension bridge:

Staying on top, on the other hand . . .

He seems to be having difficulty staying on his feet these days. In any case, back in Her bag he went. Which is still better than the children having got hold of him. (That's the little one in the red hoodie; it was a near thing.)

For New Year's Eve they went to a movie.

No, this one's not out yet.

Then we stayed in for the remainder of the night, eating sushi and . . .

After having champagne, the beanbag chairs began to look comfortable.

What? We weren't the only ones covered in streamers.

And today, to start the year? A lovely walk in the local hills.

Though I'm not sure if She's blurry or it's just my eyesight. Hrm.

Tomorrow we're off to something called Half Moon Bay. More to come.

LXXXVII: Naughty or Nice?

I've told you, John, it isn't a fair question. What if you are being naughty so as to advance the side of nice? And yes, I do believe the end justifies the means.

Unquestionably naughty.

In any case, we're doing this now. You know, holidays and decorating, and (apparently) hats.

This is before the children got hold of it.

And here is the "after."
(We escaped to the mantel.)

And then, of course, we must deal with the fact she has a birthday coming up and people are beginning to give her things. Like a new bag:

And boots:

And . . . board games?

LXXXVI: The Case of the Ambulant Patients

You may remember some weeks back she bought thread. I didn't much care for the looks of it, or what it might portend. But as time went on and nothing more happened, I began to believe we might be spared . . .

Alas, no.

Because then she brought out these:

Needles. Of varying sizes, but all of them sharp. Oh yes.

I was excluded from the worst of it. Turned out my coat just needed a bit of mending. John, on the other hand, required help with his male pattern baldness. His hair, you will be glad to learn, is now securely fixed to his head.

And Jim . . . Well, his head had fallen off. I would have been fine with it remaining separated from his shoulders, but she opted to go through with the surgery. It was a success. Unfortunately.

Then, today, once she'd decided we were satisfactorily recuperated, we were dragged back to this place. Apparently she's determined (or the children are) to make it an annual visit.

We visited Robinson Crusoe's island

And the Crooked Man's house

And rode the Jolly Trolly

. . . with the girl

John discovered how quite contrary
Mistress Mary really can be

And I found Bluebell
(Yes, John, I know it's Peter Rabbit; I was . . . No, never mind,
it's not funny if I have to explain it.)

And afterward: A drink.

The outing counts as a success considering John's hair and Jim's head stayed on.

LXXXV: Escape Velocity & Gravity

I managed somehow to avoid being taken to the pumpkin patch this year. They did things like eat shaved ice, pan for gemstones, feed sheep, and of course pick pumpkins, and I remained blissfully home.

Just look at them. Getting dirty and having fun. It's terrible.

Of course this meant I could not escape whatever outing might come next. Which turned out to be the cinema.

I was sort of hoping whoever that is on the poster would eat her, but no such luck. Instead, ninety minutes of a space drama. But at least there was really good food after.

Proof I was there, and also that a flash
might've been handy.

No pictures of the food; it was gone too quickly. Place is called Lokanta, and is quite nice. If she goes again, I might consent to another excursion.

LXXXIV: Good-bye L.A.

It was not a complete loss of a trip. Though John and Jim remained at the hotel, she took me out for a night with friends.

Drinks at Mixology

And fondue at the Farmer's Market, and a stop at the bookstore, and dessert at Cheesecake Factory.

And a parting photo

But she brought home souvenirs from Monsieur Marcel as well:

The chocolate is "Marshmallow Swirl," which John says almost makes up for having been left at the hotel. (Almost.)

LXXXIII: City of Devils

She's brought us to Los Angeles. Not that we'll see much of it. No, we will instead languish in the hotel room while she attends her conference.

Oh, but first there was:

This dog's name was Biscuit. He kept trying to come over to us, but his owner wouldn't allow it. Probably just as well. (No, John, I was not terrified of the dog.) Biscuit finally gave up when the plane arrived. Evidently it was far more interesting than we were.

Now we are here:

Room 503

It's a small room, but it does have a balcony . . .

. . . With an exceptional view of the building across the way. She won't let us out there because she thinks we'll fall (or maybe jump).

For perspective:

King bed, though. Plenty of room for us all. Except she always steals the sheets.