I don’t know what it is about the drive home from Thanksgiving at Grandma and Grandpa’s mountain cabin. Maybe it’s the fact that Seabass has been so spoiled from all the attention over the holiday, or that our minds have grown weak from all the overindulgence. Whatever the reason, it is now an official tradition that we make a pit stop somewhere in Southern California and look as much like a circus as possible. Keep your eyes peeled for our show at any fast food joint between Calabasas and Oxnard on the Sunday after Thanksgiving each year. You won’t want to miss it.
I went into the In-N-Out Burger to pee and wash my hands of traveling grime while Jake stayed behind with the truck. You see, we borrowed a friend’s truck to haul back a dining table and chairs we inherited. Since we had the truck, Jake decided to load up on some other fun items like his dad’s old belt sander and hand truck. All of these were rather precariously secured with duct tape and dental floss in the truck bed, so someone had to stay behind wherever we stopped. When I returned, the child I had dressed for mountain snow just that morning was stripped down to nothing but baby cowboy boots and a diaper. Welcome to California, land of diverse weather and freaky road-tripping families.