To celebrate our anniversary and Dear Husband's birthday, (and because of a sale on the flights), we recently took a one-week trip to our beloved Northern California and Nevada. We got to see the grandkids, dine well at many different restaurants, and visit our favorite haunts.
Most importantly, however, was the smack-you-hard-in-the face realization that there is literally, no place like Northern California. I was so struck by the beauty I remember so well, that as Dear Husband drove us from San Fransico up into the Central Valley, seeing the golden hills with gorgeous green oak trees spread amongst them, I burst into tears of joy. I also had that same reaction upon seeing the skyline of my beautiful Sacramento. Sidebar note: I also spent most of our last day crying in total and complete dread of returning to Alaska, and probably making Dear Husband feel helpless and sad, but I could not help it. :(
One of my favorite novels has a central character that upon returning to the place of her birth, was filled with the incredible joy and, as she put it "that atavistic sense of place" that nowhere else could replicate. The definition of atavistic involves something going back to one's ancestors, or generations prior to yourself. If this is true, a part of me that I don't even know exists, belongs in the West.
On to less existential matters. As we waited for our first appointment in the beautiful city-by-the-bay, we went to breakfast at a retro little diner, Lori's
I had the best corned beef hash of my life in this little place, with nice big chunks of corned beef, super fresh parsley and scallions, and crispy little squares of potato. This photo does not do it justice for sure.....