California made me feel alright
The first wedding of the last month felt the best. We were in Sonoma. We stayed in a cute old bungalow near Larkspur. The rental car was the ingenius Chrysler Sebring convertible, a testament to American stagnation. We drove to wineries. The sun set over the vineyards and the hills of Sonoma during the reception, after the wedding, and before the cake. The flower arrangements were spectacular. Don’t get me wrong, the estate in Bowie, MD was beautiful too, and miraculously not hot and humid. And Cape Cod! How can we ever forget Cape Cod, what with cool ocean breezes, American blue blood, shingled houses, and clothing curtesy of Lily Pulitzer + Vineyard Vines. But I felt best hiking in the hills overlooking the Bay. I felt best walking in an empty downtown San Francisco reveling in a city’s lack of crowds.
When we returned this past weekend from Cape Cod, our apartment walls were bleeding rust stained water, there was a giant hole cut in the drywall above our toilet and our landlord had left a note saying that he’d be out of town for 10 days. Thank God. I was worried we’d never return to New York.