California Dreamin’ – Day 2 – Laguna Beach – The Haves and Have Nots versus The Don’t Have To

The difference a day makes out here is not so astonishing; it’s an accumulated effect. But a good night’s rest is certainly a good start.
The morning was languid and overcast; it’s Sunday in Orange County, and the haze of the sky adds to the laid-back feeling of the morning. Lounging in PJs and watching TV, futzing on computers, Jen and I are like an old married couple. “Mi Casa Su Casa,” says she, so I feel at home, make coffee…and just chill. I don’t vacation well, I don’t slow down, I don’t stop…I generally just go, go, go…on to the next.
Not now…now it’s time to disengage with all else, and reconnect with myself. Jen has no problem being an excellent role model in this regard. Don’t get me wrong, Jen is VERY engaging, she just knows how to exhibit how important it is to take time to nurture the spirit. I am a sponge in her presence, and have a long way to go before being wrung.
Case in point: my eagerness to check emails and get on the internet. Signals here are very protected, so I need to go to a public place with WiFi…we choose, of course, her favorite coffee house: Buon Giorno.
There I meet the Italian Consulate who so greatly appreciate seeing her and they speak in tongues; “Bella, Bella.” (And she is.) But their WiFi is weak, so I settle for the Sunday LA Times and we come up with alternate plans: Cosi at Metro Point, where I’m sure to get a good signal, and…she can go to DSW Shoes and lose her “sole” for a while as I catch up on matters.
Not much longer, I’m up to date and have just finished creating this blog, when I get the sense that Roy Orbison is about to start playing; a moment later, the doors part, and around the corner comes Jen, almost in slow motion, carrying two very LARGE bags from DSW. Somewhere, in some remote universe, “Pretty Woman” is playing in the background.
After the footwear fashion show of a pair of topaz pumps and kick ass, but classic, black buckle boots, we lunch at the Gypsy Den at “Lab” (the “a” is actually a “star” in the logo), which is a small industrial warehouse-style converted mall. Here there is an eclectic mix of young and old, bohemian and otherwise…and a killer Waldorf chicken salad sandwich. A young family watched their Asian daughter (adopted, I assume) run amok playing with their puppy dog, who seemed nonplussed by her delightful squeals.
And then…more chill, more still, more…”I don’t HAVE to do anything.”
The afternoon eased on, and we finally pulled ourselves together for a road trip through Newport beach, past Fashion Island, and down into Laguna; Jen had some business at work to tend to, and we killed two birds with one stone as I got to see her office (complete with Wine-Tasting cubicle for happy hours) and the formidable Laguna Playhouse, an adobe structure currently producing “Leaving Iowa.” I thought of my friend Suzy at the title…and I just smiled at the thought of her…Suzy does that to me.
Laguna Beach is a destination tourist trap cum beach community cum artist colony cum charming, opulent, and down-to-earth and happening place. Each year, their “Pageant of the Masters” causes the population to quintuple in size, if not more. It is littered with galleries, shops and beachside reataurants. It was here I would see my first sunset over the Pacific – stunning.
We strolled and strolled and strolled and strolled, and settled at The Cliff for a drink on the veranda, overlooking the beach. Next door, we could hear a wedding reception was taking place. Clearly a mix of Italian and West Indian, we had to focus hard when the wedding party began their karaoke-esque tributes to the bride and groom, with such favorites as “Amado Mio,” “All I Ask Of You,” from Phantom, and “many, many more!”
It was nice to just enjoy the deck (they give you fleece blankets in case there’s a chill; Jen donned her serape accordingly) and we just talked and talked and talked. Our temperamental server, Anna, was a little miffed that we only ordered a drink and nothing more; but this wasn’t about her. It was about US…and the 6’5” hunk of a manager who came to check in on us…Jen and I planned on a competition between us, climbing his tall frame, and whoever made it to the top would win.
We strolled back down the main strip, and stopped in an astounding gallery that caught our eyes. The abstract surreal pieces (clearly out of our price range) were only superseded by Jen’s surreal conversation with the docent guarding them…Jen was an Art History major…she knows a thing or two. Clearly, he thought SHE was a work of art, and as they chatted, he offered her his “personal” email on his business card…uh huh…mm hmm. I just stayed off to the side and looked pretty.
We then drove through “The Canyon” which is where, whenever I’m on the phone with Jen, I lose her cause the signal gets lost. Stopping at her brother’s (with whom I’ll spend more time at Thanksgiving), I was introduced to Maggie, his dog, and his two children…we watched San Diego lose (Jen called it), Maggie do her tricks, and had a few freshly baked oatmeal cranberry cookies.
Tomorrow was going to be the big day for me, so we took “The” Toll Road back, grabbed a pizza, and, as I ironed my clothes, watched an episode of Cold Case.
Sweet dreams filled me once again, as Ventura, and all its transformative power, beckoned. My life was about to change – forever.