Honeymoon I: Mendocino

Our first day of the honeymoon saw the introduction of our trip-long theme of eating only at breweries. We started at Bear Republic Brewery in Healdsburg. All the locals on the restaurant patio and passing by outside seemed to know each other, which made me believe we’d discovered the fabled Small Town America. (This conviction of mine would prove to be another running theme of the trip.) But in retrospect I think maybe we’d just discovered a lot of barflies.

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Beer wife still life #1.

The brewery was across the way from the Hand Fan Museum. This is a real thing, and exactly what it sounds like. It’s nice to see that even the powers of hot-flashin’ menopause can be used for good, if by “good” you mean “provid[ing] educational and cultural enrichment to the public by utilizing the hand fan as a vehicle for teaching history, art and geography.” And I think that’s usually what I mean by good.

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See? You thought I was making this up.

Afterwards, we went on to a fancy B&B in Mendocino, where we enjoyed a deer-infested field, ocean views, a nearby beach, a whirlpool tub for two and a battered VHS of Independence Day from the complimentary video library. You know, that’s a really good film. And by “good,” I mean that it provides educational and cultural enrichment to the public by utilizing the hand fan as a vehicle for teaching history, art and geography.

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You know what happens when you poke something with a stick? It gets poked!

Also, Gene carried me over the threshhold into our room. I know you’re supposed to do this on the wedding night, but jeez, who has the energy?

The next morning saw another trip theme introduced: eating way more breakfast than we meant to, because it was gourmet and free.

You can see more photos of our Mendocino leg here.

Next up: our first night camping!

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Good

We set up camp next to Magone Lake in Oregon. In the morning the chipmunks came out and scurried all over camp. At sunset they disappeared and the mosquitoes came zipping around. At nightfall, the hundreds of frogs living around the lake started yelling to each other. In the morning, the birds sang, and the chipmunks came out again.

Everything has its time of day, I notice. Everything has an hour or a season to hibernate, eat, fight, mate. Only humans can run our lives on the clock that seems good to us; only we are outside nature, as seasonless as grocery store fruit.

And another thing I’ve learned on this honeymoon: man, beer is really good, isn’t it? Just really, really good.

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Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, wonderful.

In four hours I’ll be married.

I’m feeling something like this:

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Photo taken by the peerless Steven Tan.

See y’all on the other side!

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An hour-long shower with girls

It’s hard to imagine what could be better than getting to be princess for a day…

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Oh, wait, I know what’s even better: getting to spend the day with eight smart, funny, gorgeous ladies you love! (Including Erica, who came after this picture was taken.)

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Thanks to all you shower attendees, and especially Michele and Eydie (and Bob, who not only gave up his house but catered the event).

More pictures.

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Farming Babies

My downstairs neighbor, whom I have heretofore despised for his relentless bass-heavy speakers and his wife’s crappy taste in music, is currently performing a flawless — and, I must admit, delightful — a cappella rendering of Temple of the Dog’s “Hunger Strike.”

Maybe we don’t need to move after all.

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Cheerful pre-wedding literature

I do recommend reading Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers by Mary Roach.

I do not recommend trying to eat while you read it.

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Spirit of the thing

On Friday night, a friend asked me if I was feeling frenzied about the wedding and I said no. And I’m really not. Granted, there are still a fair amount of things we have to do, like write our ceremony. And somehow come up with enough coolers for all the food. Not to mention planning the menu. And so on…

But try as I might, I can’t seem to feel worried about that stuff, because there are so many other things I have to do. I have to get drinks with friends. And play Mario Kart with Gene. And sit in the yard with my parents. And read a book about cadavers.

I’ve got the fella, I’ve got a dress, I’ve got friends and family coming, and Jon is brewing us our very own kind of beer. That’s pretty much a wedding, right? To quote Michele, I think I can give you the spirit of the thing. And, to quote her again, I feel pretty good about that.

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And he that is more than a horse is less than a man

You know, I don’t have a great anecdote or a made-up conversation or anything to relate today.

All I do have, and I think you’ll agree it’s more than enough, is this:

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Have a great weekend, you beautiful people.

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Vroom

Last night we drove to dinner! In a car! I wore my open-toed four-inch spike heels, the shoes I can never wear on the bike. You can’t really wear those shoes in the rain either, but to hell with the weather.

We had Persian food at Lavash, a first for me. I made the waiter describe all the stews until he got to the chicken stew with crushed walnuts and pomegranate seeds. “It has been called the Stew of Kings,” he said, “and — ”

“Stop right there,” I said, “the Stew of Kings will be good enough for me.” And it was, too.

I wonder when the novelty of having a car will wear off. Probably after the first month of parking problems.

Meanwhile, maybe I’ll drive to Safeway today!

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Pulling random stuff out of old emails

Here’s a conversation I had a long time ago, but it still tastes great today:

Friend: [funny joke about Neil Gaiman’s graphic novels.]

Me: I used to read Elfquest.

Friend: [Silence.]

Me: Now you know everything.

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