I recently had the pleasure of spending 3 glorious weeks in my hometown of San Diego. Sun. Sombreros. Swimming. In that order. I decided to get my summer vacation started by driving 330 miles with my dog, my toddler, and my infant. I mean really, what could go wrong? I’ll tell you what went wrong. LA. L effing A. I hate that place, with all its palm trees and people. It took me 10 hours (TEN HOURS!!) of traffic to make it home. The kids did pretty well considering they were strapped in sweaty carseats for an entire day. I can’t actually put into words the level of frustration and hopelessness that was that day. At one point I was completely stopped on the freeway, trapped in the fast lane, not moving, with 2 crying kids. Like really crying. The kind of crying that made the other drivers on the freeway roll up their windows. So I did what any mom would do; I started crying too.
Thinking about that car ride still makes me sweaty and anxious. But when I got home my mom took good care of me and it was better. My sister was visiting from Redding for the first part of my trip, and my brother was visiting from Europe for the last few days. It was a full Brog house. Lots of noise and Fox news and yummy food. Like I like. Except the news part.
We did some fun things. Mostly at home since I was still experiencing PTSD from my drive down. Not pictured are all of the awesome friends who made time to see me! I feel so thankful to have such special relationships with friends who I haven’t lived near for 10 years. The people keep me coming back to San Diego. Also Sombreros. And Ikea. Finger-paint – 4 minutes of fun, 37 minutes of cleanup. “Luke, plug your nose.” So close.