A RETURN TO THE O.C.
THE WARM CALIFORNIA SUN... |
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January 4, 2005 - Exhausted and drained by the last
tumultuous months of my life, I wearily said my goodbyes to Austin and a
couple select friends who dropped me off at the airport. Without
having to act, I was befuddled as I made my way through the ticket
counters and security lines to head west and visit my family on the
southern coast of California. Armed with the memories of
last year's trip to the O.C., I was a bit more prepared for the
flash and style of one of the richest Republican enclaves in the
country, a stark contrast to my less than glamorous everyday
surroundings of East Austin.
So here are some little vignettes into the trip that was, ten days,
mostly overcast and slightly drizzly, with heavy rains at time that got
the panties of all the flashy LA weathermen into a big, wet bunch.
One slickster produced a memorable quote as the 'Sky Weather Copter'
was flying over the streets of Beverly Hills while rain -RAIN! - fell
from the sky - the camera was pointed down at some easy flowing, albeit
wet, traffic.
The weatherman, expecting the rain to be disrupting traffic, had to
trail off his hyperbole quite a bit, starting to scream, "Looook at it
come down out there folks, look at that...", (looks at the screen, voice
begins to fall) "fiesta", (disappointed, yet carries on) "of mild road
rage", (now deflated almost completely) "just waiting to", (can actually
hear his voice surrender) "break out."
If there is one level of hell reserved strictly for all weatherman and
those godawful reporters who stand out in blizzards, hurricanes, and
light rain to tell us what is happening outside our windows, it will
bring balance and goodness to the world.
So, without further ado, take a trip as I once did:
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SCHLIEFKE vs. the PACIFIC
December 25, 2004 - While the earth was about to unleash a sizable
earthquake and tsunami halfway across the globe, larger than usual waves
greeted the beaches of southern California. I felt compelled to
jump right in and greet them. My body temperature dropped about 20
degrees, and I was able to coax my brother into joining me in the cold
depths. My sister stood on the warm safety of the beach taking
pictures. An old couple walked up to her, obviously amused at our
ridiculous antics in the sea. My sister betrayed my very existence
by answering where we were from by saying 'Massachusetts'. I told
her none of us were from Massachusetts, I was born in New York.
After clearing that up, we continued to stroll the beach and critique
the houses built along the cliffs. My siblings know exactly what
buttons to push a bit too well.
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MY VISIT WITH A
PELICAN
December 21, 2004 - When I was eight years
old and playing Farm League baseball, I picked up the nickname 'Schlepper',
partially because my coach couldn't pronounce 'Schliefke', but
mostly due to my graceless young frame and its awkward adolescent
movements.
So on the end of the pier at San Clemente,
in front of a food stand named 'Schleppy's', I recounted my tale of
woe to this pelican. He acted like he was listening and cared,
but in the end, he was more interested in the people fishing and
tossing him their floppy, wet catches.
So it goes. |
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larger version |
FOOD
One of the greatest things about going home again is eating home
cooked meals. I specifically asked for meatloaf upon my entry
to my parent's house. My Father tried getting clever, trying
to fool me into thinking Mom changed the recipe and put a hard
boiled egg in the middle of my beloved loaf. I didn't bite
till I got home and had a few generous helpings.
My brother finally reunited my tastebuds with some red hot dogs from
Maine, and I drank more sweet tea than one can imagine. In
addition to full lunches and dinners everyday (I don't remember the
last time I ate two meals a day regularly was), I loaded up on Mom's
special peanut butter balls and the rest of her assorted Christmas
cookies - along with trays of Rice Krispie Treats.
After a lush Christmas meal in which I got to indulge in the act
of easting chicken skin for the first time in ages, Mom did let me
down one night and she cooked a ham everyone else in the family
seemed to enjoy a lot. Despite my pleas to have her wait
one day until after I left, she carried on, and I was resigned to
have to enjoy giant leftover portions of her incredible spaghetti.
Woe is me. |
click on a picture for a
larger version |
Continue your OC journey:
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