California, Part 3

He took us to Good Earth.  Which is very ironic considering Kit and I both work at Good Earth.  Granted, we don't work for the same company.  But we couldn't help laughing that on our vacation from Good Earth we had dinner at Good Earth.

We sat down for dinner and began to look over the menus.  I ordered spinach ravioli.  Yum!

 

While I opted to pass on desert, my little nieces jumped at the opportunity.  Little Kayla loves chocolate and requested a chocolate-chocolate-chocolate cake.  She got it.  We kept telling her to look behind her and then we'd sneak bites.  Her sister, Natalie, laughed and laughed until we asked her to read a sign behind her.  Natalie had carrot cake (which was also tasty).

We talked and ate until the sun had completely set and our stomachs were completely full.  We said goodbye to Billy and summoned our valet parked fleet.  After we change into some comfy clothes we met at the hotel to watch the big event as a family.

It was an interesting video.

There was so much laughter.  Nervousness, embarrassment, amusement, joy.  We were infamous, awkward, inexperienced, but it didn't matter, because we were united.  We had traveled this journey together and knew it was coming to a close.  So we laughed like we'd never laughed before.  We laughed at the mess ups, the good parts, and all the in-betweens.

Then there were tears.

As little pregnant Linda said goodbye to her family there were tears.  Paul and I drove back to their apartment to attempt sleep, but it was really late and we had to wake up really early.



It was a long morning. . . I was very, very, VERY motion sick.  With my Dramamine in Utah, I boarded the plane with a purse full of ginger chews.  We hadn't been in the air long when I realized that there wasn't enough ginger in the world to get me through the flight.  I bowed my head and asked God for help; with purely prideful intentions, I begged him to help me not throw up in front of my family on that cramped little plane. . . flying through a turbulent storm. . . on the day I didn't have Daramamine. . .  I started to dry heave a great deal.  Ug, would I make it?

Like every tunnel of adversity, there is a light at the end and mine was pulling up to my apartment where I had a private bathroom with my name on it.

Thank you, Billy-- for a great adventure my children will never believe I was cool enough to be a part of.