We've been home from California for over a week now. How incredibly sad is that? Almost everyday this week Andrew or I have noted something along these lines,
"At this moment one week ago we just arrived in San Diego."
"Exactly one week ago, today, we were soaking up the sun on the beach."
"If this were last week, we'd be at Sea World petting starfish right now."
It rather depressing to be back to our humdrum life, but Rachel has finally started to sleep through the night again (knock on wood), so we're glad to be back to our schedule, although we can't stop thinking about how nice it would be to live in California.
A few times when Rachel was having trouble getting settled down for bed, she'd get to go out on a walk. She went on many walks with Grandpa, and a few with Mom and Dad.
On one particular walk that we took her on, she went absolutely hysterical when we were quite a ways away from the condo. She refused to walk anymore, but she didn't want to be held either. She was kicking up quite a fuss, though, so we had no choice but to hold her against her will otherwise we would have never made it home.
We were walking rather slowly since I was the one carrying her and most of my energy was concentrated on not dropping her. She was thrashing around and trying to get down, screaming all the while.
And then a lady walked by, carrying a dog.
"It's so hard to be little," she cooed at Rachel.
Rachel stopped crying. She looked at the lady. She looked at the bundle of fur the lady was carrying. She crinkled up her face in confusion and her face stayed that way until we got to the condo.
I can only imagine what she was thinking, "That was the ugliest baby I've ever seen!"
At least it calmed her down!
We took many other walks and bike rides on the boardwalk. Technically I only went on one bike ride, but Andrew went on several.
I didn't really like the feel of beach cruisers. I'm too used to mountain bikes, I guess. The handle bars on the beach cruisers were too far apart for me to feel comfortable and I kept forgetting that you pedal backwards to break, which is a terrible thing to forget on a crowded boardwalk.
My Auntie Arlene's family rides down the boardwalk every Tuesday evening, along with some friends from their ward. They ride down to a Mexican restaurant in the "cold" months and have a BBQ on the beach in the "warm" months. We were there during a "cold" month, so on Tuesday night they invited us all to ride with them to the Mexican restaurant.
They only had one extra bike, but we had two at the condo, so Josie, Andrew and I could have all gone, but Andrew and Josie decided they didn't want to go and I knew Rachel never would have forgiven me if I had gone without her, so I also decided not to go.
The three of us non-bike-riders started walking back to the condo on the boardwalk. Bikers started passing us. Jenna first, and then Bobby asking if Jenna had passed us, and then Auntie Arlene, and then a few people I had just met but didn't really know.
And then my Uncle Michael came by. My Uncle Michael is a bit of a prankster.
He slammed on his breaks, squealing his tires and scaring me half to death. Everybody laughed when I screamed and jumped out of the way. I thought some maniac on a bike was going to run me over. I suppose there was a maniac on a bike, but he wasn't about to run me over.
Oh, California, we miss you!