More Vacation
I'm cleaning my "studio" today - moving all my scrapbooking stuff out and into storage so I'll have even. more. room. for fiber - so this will be short.
Day Two of the Our Last Kid's Finally An Adult* adventure took us to the Monterey Aquarium. This place is wonderful and ranks high on my list of favorites. They've made it even better since the last time we visited by adding a whole new wing to house Jellies!
This pic is from my cell phone; not bad, eh?
They had big jellies and little jellies, purple jellies and clear jellies. About the only marine thingee I like better than jellies are sea dragons. Have to go to the Long Beach aquarium for those though. If you like otters or penguins, be sure to check out Monterey's live web cams.
Lunch was at the Fish Hopper, about a block down from the aquarium.
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That afternoon we drove up the coast to Santa Cruz and beyond.
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Wednesday morning we started south through Seventeen Mile Drive
and Carmel. Dick took a side road to avoid yet another traffic jam (dang tourists!) and I spotted a sign for the Carmel Mission - officially the San Carlos Borromeo de Carmelo Mission, founded in 1771.
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We lost count at about 40 Lambors - no exaggeration - which included a white one with black graffiti-type writing all over it. I thought Dick was going to cry. By the time we stopped for lunch at 3, it was almost - almost - to the point of "ho hum, there's another one".
* We arrived back home to find Gary sick with a cough. Coughs tend to settle in his chest, make themselves at home, and stay awhile. We broke out the usual medications, with minimal success.
Friday night he got us up no less than 5 times - remember he's 18 not 8 - looking for medicine or for sympathy. Dick and I were both up for an hour at 3:30 - I hadn't gotten to sleep yet and Dick had been awakened so many times he couldn't go back to sleep. By then it was Saturday and, of course, all the doctor's offices and urgent care clinics were closed. It's a nice, healthy cough (he sounds like a seal) but it's Just. A. Cough.
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It's a good thing this isn't a 3-day weekend. I'm not sure he'd survive. And I'm not talkin' about that blasted cough.
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