Tuesday, June 21, 2011

A good time was had by all

My folks came to visit. 

They left miserable, pouring rain weather in Idaho Falls and found us happily basking in the California sun surrounded by these beautiful purple flowering trees that are all over the place and decided it would be OK if we stayed here and converted our garage into an apartment for them. 

To honor my parents' 29th anniversary we went to the USS Midway again. Because nothing will make two people fall in love all over again like a flight simulation of a fighter plane dogfight that flips you upside down and stuff.

We discovered Coronado, glorious Coronado, together and enjoyed it immensely. This isthmus (say that five times fast), which I mistakenly thought was an island because we drove over this gigantic bridge over the ocean to get to it, has earned many illustrious honors, such as the second best beach in the United States, the Great American MainStreet Award, home to Scott Weiland and also that lady bassist for the Talking Heads, and, U.S. News and World Report named it one of the most expensive places to reside in the U.S. 
I don't know what the No. 1 beach in the United States is, but it must be pretty phenomenal because Coronado beach is essentially perfect — clean, soft sand, nice water, fun waves, surfers. Jethro, who is afraid of more things than he isn't afraid of (washing his hair, the tree by our front door, stray cornflakes that stick to the corner of his mouth, etc.) surprised me by running, screaming and laughing, headlong into waves that were taller than he was. I believe he had the time of his short life. We actually went back the next day after Sea World was a bust. (We payed the $12 for parking and after 20 minutes of crawling through the totally full parking lot with about 400,000 other spot-seeking vehicles, decided that endeavor would only end in misery and exited the parking lot. Our example was immediately followed by at least five other vehicles.) Our second time to the Coronado beach we were better prepared with our swimming suits. Dad and Jake shed their shirts and dove into the waves like beautiful, glistening, albino dolphins. It was breathtaking. No photos of it, unfortunately. I had my hands full trying to keep Jethro from joining them. 

We introduced the folks to "Toy Story 3", the ending of which always makes Jethro get teary-eyed when Andy drives away, which, in turn always makes us teary-eyed. I would've thought 2.5 years is too young to be emotionally moved by film, but my child is more sensitive and perceptive than any other child that ever lived probably.  

Other highlights:
I got us lost an average of two times each day. Dad broke one of my guitar strings, bought me new strings, then broke one of my bridge pins trying to change them, so he bought me new bridge pins, too, and then changed the strings with my new *black* bridge pins, which look very sleek and stealthy. He also adjusted the action on the neck of the guitar and it plays very well, Dad, thank you. And Grandma made it the best few days Jethro's ever had in his life by being his constant enthusiastic playmate. Seriously, though, sitting through church with those two I felt like I had two 2-year-olds to reign in. And Mom was the worse-behaved of the two. 

The boys head to the pool.
Balboa Park.
I unfortunately didn't get any pictures, but we also hit up the sort of creepy Kobey's Swap Meet held every weekend in the Sports Arena parking lot. An odd crowd, but I guess you assume that going into any swap meet. Mom and I both had our astrological signs involuntarily analyzed by an awfully talkative older gentleman, who abruptly left when my dad walked over. My biggest regret of the outing: not purchasing the life-sized cardboard Jean-Luc Picard we spotted leaning against a chain link fence. Dad bought me a very nice straw hat there:
Jake said it made me look a little like Chuck Mangione.
But I keep insisting that it's more Neil Young.

Thanks Mom and Pop. We loved having you. You should come back just as soon as your backs recover from sleeping on our futon. 


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