When I was younger, my best friend Betsy and I would cut up magazines and spend hours picking out our favorite homes, dining rooms, husbands (male models in a JCPenny catalog... you know). I always thought I'd want to live on the east coast somewhere, maybe Boston, and have a big yellow house with black shutters and a wrap-around porch. That never really changed growing up, but 15 years later and I've decided to change my mind.
Last weekend, we took off for another last minute trip (literally last minute, because as we drove to Salt Lake at 2:15 PM we turned the car around at 2:18 and decided to pack our bags and go!) We met up with some of our friends already in Vegas, and off to sunny California we went. The first night we were there, we stayed in Laguna beach and were able to drive up the coast to Newport and Huntington, and take one tiny detour to a little town called Balboa Island thanks to Max insisting that we stop by.
I just about died. Something about small beach towns, especially when they're homey and quaint (quaint meaning tiny homes but $100,000 dollar cars in the driveway) makes me fall in love. The ferry, the carousel, the American flags hanging on the porches, and sail boats lining the shore just seemed to come straight out of one of those magazines I used to cut up when I was nine years old. So it's settled. When we make our millions one day given our sad economy, we'll head back to Balboa island.
In other news, I spent two hours one morning during our vacation making a pro and con list of a day in Disneyland vs. a day at Six Flags. Just to give you an idea of what it looked like, Six Flags had 2 pros, Disneyland had 11. I was outnumbered when voting, but I'm thinking any excuse to go back to CA and the happiest place on earth (they're one in the same now) is okay with me.