Sunday, August 27, 2006

Vacation: Day 12 (August 14)

We get up and walk to the beach. Pismo is a very wide, very flat beach. We cruise for a good distance looking for shells and sand dollars. We find quite a number of live sand dollars and repatriate them, but also a good assortment of intact deceased ones. They eventually get put in the shoebox we acquired in Cortez, Colorado.



After returning to the motel and cleaning up, we head down Highway 101. Somewhere along the way -- around Santa Maria, I think -- we stop at an Olive Garden for lunch. It's Monday -- the first day of training new waitstaff. Our waiter, Brian, is very new and very anxious. He brings us our drinks, and as he removes my iced tea and sets it down, his tray tips and Emma's lemonade hits the floor next to our table and explodes like a water balloon. Oops.

Brian is very apologetic, and brings a new lemonade immediately. However, when he brings our salad, he also brings drink refills. He sets the salad down, and my new iced tea slides off his tray and lands right in it. Splash.

Brian is now completely stressed out, and we're feeling very sorry for him (not to mention somewhat soggy). His manager comes by later during our meal to tell us that lunch is on the house. I tip Brian fairly generously, all things considered, though Kristi thinks I should have doubled it because lunch was free. Hey, I didn't want to encourage him.

After lunch, we stop in Solvang. Emma does not do a good job; she's got $8 in souvenir money left, and wants to spend about $80; she melts down in a doll shop that (honestly) Kristi should have kept her out of. I get a pretty good bearclaw at one of the local bakeries -- not the best I've ever had, but the best I've had in a good long while.

South of Ventura, we're on the Pacific Coast Highway when we spot a beach with some kite-surfing going on, and stop to watch. Emma finds the front half of a busted surfboard in a trashcan, and decides it's time to boogie-board again. But the half-surfboard is a poor substitute for a boogie board, and she doesn't do much.



We drive through Santa Monica, Los Angeles, and down to Anaheim, where we get a room at the Travelodge on Ball Road. Smart choice. It's walking distance from the Disneyland entrance, under $70 with the AAA discount, has a decent continental breakfast and a swimming pool, and is quite nice for a Travelodge. While Kristi runs out to get some portable snacks to take to Disneyland the next day, Emma and I watch the fireworks from our room's private balcony (yes, we had a balcony at a Travelodge).



Miles driven: approximately 220 miles.

Labels: