We just returned from our marvelous vacation in California. We left last Saturday and came back on Friday, giving us just enough time to experience perfection on the West coast.
Why don't we live in Southern California?
Because we live in Indiana, and its glamour outshines that of the Golden State of California.
Sarcasm.
We lived large for the week.
I do my research when traveling, vacillate greatly over where to stay and eat, remain indecisive, then finally I make a decision. It's usually a good one.
This choice was a great one.
I chose the Resort at Pelican Hill, where to stay when you want to pretend you are wealthy for a week and be treated like a princess.
The customer service at this place was amazing. Everyone was friendly, helpful and accommodating.
We had a two queenie bungalow.
That's not because we don't like each other, but rather it's cheaper.
Research, people.
Plus, I snore like a pregnant dragon and Trinity doesn't mind getting away from me.
We had a garden view patio.
Our fireplace was cooking most nights, since the temperatures usually dropped to the 60s and we kept our patio door open.
The view of the pool.
The pool at night was glorious with the sun setting.
The Coliseum pool had the circumference of Pluto, that star that was considered a planet when I was in school.
Pregs quickly discovered it was quicker to go through it, rather than around it.
Math figurin' at work during my vacation.
We parked on the opposite side of the circle, which was far from the bathroom.
When I would have to go, which was every 20.3 minutes, I'd jump in the water and water jog the diameter of that pool and be in the bathroom in 30 seconds flat.
Maybe it was more like 3 minutes.
That pool was big.
We had one celebrity sighting at our pool.
Kobe Bryant sat next to us at lunch one afternoon.
I just wanted to giggle and talk loudly.
Weird, right?
I did neither.
This was our bungalow.
My view from my side of the pool, where I was at the ready to do a hot water jog to the bathroom.
Sometimes I think catheterizing would be more convenient.
Speaking of views....
This one is certainly not what it used to be.
Check out that ruching!
We, and I mean me, decided to be brave and do 25 week bump pictures in my swimsuit.
Brave, I tell you.
T loves to take a "prep" shot when I'm not ready.
This is my pregnant waddle, or maybe just my poor posture stroll.
A wet pool deck makes for a careful mother to be.
I can't be busting my tail and wounding my chile.
This is as good as it gets.
I had to crop out my fool spouse's knee, since he is the WORST photographer ever in the history of soon to be fathers.
I may have called him a name or two, which then caused him to dig in his stubborn mule heels and refuse to take another picture.
It wasn't all hugs and kisses on the trip.
My hormones flare up and I can get mean.
We quickly made up, but a better picture was not procured.
This was the view from the other side of my chair.
Pelican Hill had a beautiful golf course.
We went to In-N-Out in Costa Mesa.
I had a cheeseburger.
Our resort was close to Crystal Cove State Park and beach, so we decided to walk down.
Pelican Hill was more like Pelican Cliff/Dangerous Precipice, because this leisurely "walk" to the beach was more like the Bataan Death March.
My feet were not properly attired and my ankles got very angry.
Trinity was much more content.
We spent an evening with my childhood pal, Jenny.
She is swanky, lives in Newport Beach with her husband and son, and is all kinds of fabulous.
We laughed our asses off over a delicious dinner that Tony had cooked on the grill of their rooftop terrace overlooking the city.
It was great to see her and I miss her terribly!
We ate at lots of wonderful restaurants while we were gone, but none compared to Tony's grilling.
In fact, T's quote was,
"Nothing was as good as Tony's fancy meats."
Sounds odd, but true.
We went shopping at Fashion Island, clearly Trinity's favorite experience of the trip.
I swooned at my first Jonathan Adler experience.
I made an appointment at DryBar and got my hair did.
This place is super cool, and they just do different blow outs.
I got a blow out and a "floater" which was a 10 minute scalp massage.
They really like their MoroccanOil there.
I do too.
In the process...
Voila!
Totally worth it.
I also had my first Sprinkles cupcake.
or two.
I had banana with dark chocolate icing and while I was in line I started talking to some housewives of Orange County.
Not the famous ones, but some very attractive women in their late 30s wearing tennis outfits and MAC lip glass.
Their lips were really shiny.
Anywho... they were kind enough to tell the "secret" word to this Midwestern bumpkin.
If you follow Sprinkles on Twitter, they release a secret word each day, and the first 50 people who say it get a free cupcake.
I thought I might be getting punked by these glamazons, so I approached the counter and said
"Margarita?" in my best Ron Burgundy voice.
Bingo!
That man dropped a margarita cupcake in a bag for me, right then and there.
Freebie!
The euphoria I felt was intoxicating.
I know why the caged bird sings, Maya Angelou.
Yes, I do.
Moving on, we ate a divine dinner at Javier's, a swanky Mexican joint in Crystal Cove.
Esposo had a margarita.
I had a water with lemon.
Trinity's big pick of the trip was to attend a baseball game.
We went to Anaheim and watched the Angels defeat the Mariners.
I love a professional baseball game.
I had a hot dog, chips, Diet Coke and a churro.
I then experienced the worst heartburn/acid reflux of my life.
I thought I would die.
I didn't.
We drove up North to Santa Monica Pier.
LA traffic is not fun.
The weather was perfect.
I decided to try to wear normal shorts with the belly band.
It made for an uncomfortable day.
I think we're past that.
Trinity loved the ocean breeze.
We bought some random shite on our trip, like this owl for Genevieve.
Macarons from Lette, a darling Macaron boutique at Fashion Island.
There were lots of flavors and I just wanted to scream "Feed me, Seymour." as I stood in line.
I hope I'm not the only one who always wants to scream something.
I say that a lot.
It's true, though.
Back at the ranch, we enjoyed pastries on the patio.
T had his first yoga experience.
The fitness center offered classes, and no one attended them but me.
I had a private yoga and pilates instructor all week.
She was darling.
Trinity finally agreed to go.
He was a sport.
I loved the mirrors because they allowed me to watch him the whole time.
What a show.
I likened him to Woody from Toy Story.
A little stiff, but I appreciated the attempt.
This will be a great story for our daughter one day.
We went to Balboa Island and had frozen chocolate bananas on a stick.
I saw this tree and loved its color.
I would love a print like this.
For our last night we went to dinner at The Cannery in Newport Bay, one of Jenny's suggestions.
We had delicious seafood.
The waitress took this and said she thought Trinity's eyes were closed.
So she took a second one. Clearly she meant my husband looked like he was getting goosed.
Attempt #2 wasn't any more successful.
The Bay
Lastly, a running joke all week was our rental car, a pimp Chevrolet Sonic.
All of the resort employees must have enjoyed our ride, as it was parked next to cars I had never seen before in my life. Cars like Ferraris, Porches, Bentleys, etc.
This fine car was parked next to us our final day.
In California, it seems everything is over the top, including cars.
Go big or go home, they say.
We went home.
