where LEGOland is

Ahoy,

Due to time and other considerations, we did not go to LEGOland. Fear not, brave souls, I will return. LEGOland will be mine.

So we went to San Diego to visit one of A's best friends and explore, of course. I was told it should, theoretically take 2 hours to get there (which is still a long trip by my standards). Due to traffic and other considerations, it took upwards of 4 hours (count 'em - 1-2-3-4 hours!). I was taught the word for 'jalopy' in Spanish in high school. To which I and my classmates replied with various confused and disbelieving groans and gripes as to what that was and why it would ever be relevant to us and when we would ever use it. The highlight of this drive to San Diego was probably seeing these 2 old, what I could only describe as jalopies carrying cargo and furniture that was stacked twice as high, on top of, and over the jalopy. To my amazement.

We stayed with his friend on his ginormous couch in a house full of people that I wasn't sure if they all lived there or not. The people were really nice, but "unambitious," he described. Nonetheless, we had a grand time engaging in conversation, television, food, and games with the household. Mostly excellent restaurant selections were provided throughout the weekend ranging from happy hour appetizers to Mexican. A boy at the dim sum restaurant was wearing a LEGOland hat. There was a barbecue Saturday night at which 12 pounds of meat were consumed. Apparently 12 pounds was not enough.

A and I went to the beach on Saturday and climbed around some cliffs and looked at ginormous, (probably) expensive houses. We likely trespassed on someone's property and sat on their chairs. I only have evidence of his delinquency. What a shame. On Sunday we ventured downtown to the Seaside Village, probably equivalent to the Chicago lakefront. Tourist traps galore amongst the Navy ship and giant red lobster. The usual people that look like statues, balloon animal artists, stalls for souveneir tchotchkes. There was this one guy that was stacking towers of rocks of deceptively uneven surfacing. He would have a bunch of large flat-ish ones and then the top 2 would be a super tiny pebble like thing with a ginormous one on top of it. We spent an evening at Old Town, which I'm sure would have a lot of historical significance, but seemed more like a theme park of the wild west with souveneir shops instead of saloons. It looks a lot like those towns from Oregon Trail. How many wagon axles and boxes of ammo will you need to cross the river before spring?

Nothing but sun, per usual. Apparently it was hot, but it wasn't humid enough for me to really catch on fire.

broilingly dry,
JT