show me a garden that's bursting into life

Okay, the weekend. As I mentioned in my belatedly-published post, I spent Friday night doing nothing, and by 'doing nothing' I mean 'watching 'Sahara'', which has to be one of the best bad movies ever. Then, I woke up on Saturday and actually motivated myself enough to go for a drive; I ended up in Salinas, CA, at the John Steinbeck museum. I felt that it was a bit overpriced for the actual content ($10.95 for an adult ticket, and I made it through in about an hour--and if you've been to a museum with me, you know that I read virtually every caption, so it's not like I was skipping content (although in the interest of full disclosure, I did skip the wing on California agriculture)). But, the museum was built rather recently and so was all shiny and pretty, which I suppose justified the high ticket price. I didn't find the museum itself particularly inspiring, but I found Steinbeck's quotes v. inspiring. This led me to make the twenty-minute journey over to the coast, where I ended up on Monterey's Cannery Row. Steinbeck wrote a book called 'Cannery Row', which I remember loving, but today's Cannery Row doesn't have much resemblance to the old Cannery Row; the sardine industry collapsed long ago, and Cannery Row now consists of the (admittedly great) Monterey Bay Aquarium, a bunch of new-age shops, and some soulless chain stores and restaurants. Still, the water was beautiful, and I had a relatively tasty fried-seafood platter as a late lunch/early dinner, so the trip wasn't regretted.

While I'm slowly beginning to feel trapped and suffocated by suburbia, by the vast expanses of concrete, the faux-Spanish architecture, and the endless rows of '70s-style two-story apartment complexes, the three hours I spent in the car yesterday did serve to remind me that there are areas of California that are rather unobjectionable--and by unobjectionable I mean beautiful. Going south on 101, once you get past the Gilroy outlet stores, there's some truly gorgeous scenery, and I loved the drive between Salinas and the sea. All along the coast, California has striking, rugged hills, and the better-preserved areas have tall trees and open fields. However, I must say that California's terrain suffers from the same uniformity as its weather does; the terrain is usually uniformly beautiful, just as the weather usually is, but it lacks the highs and lows that give a bit more thrill to other areas of the country. Not to say that Iowa is the most beautiful place ever, but the greens in the spring and summer are thrilling, perhaps because they are a balm to the soul after a winter of sullen browns and greys. And the sharp, biting cold of winter is almost welcome (and I can say this because I don't have to live it right now :) after the heat of summer, even if life would be easier if it was always 50-70 degrees.

I suppose the point of this is that I could stand to live in California if I lived in one of the slightly-more-remote parts, but I don't--and I think there's a part of me that will never be satisfied living someplace where there are no seasons. I'm wearing a thick sweatshirt right now because it's almost November, but since it was almost seventy degrees today, there's clearly something wrong with my perception of the real world. But, the drive was great, and I should do that more often--there is so much of California within a day-trip's drive that I haven't seen.

I got home around sevenish and started reading a book; in fact, I was already in my pajamas, curled up on the sofa, when the phone rang at 10pm. It was Shedletsky, reminding me of a party at Doug's that I had completely forgotten about, and telling me that I should come over because they were about to play Circle of Death. I'm powerless to say no to my favorite drinking game, so I dressed and made it over there in twenty minutes. When I realized that one of the co-partiers is now an RA in one of the all-frosh dorms and started college a year after I graduated, I had a slight twinge of self-hatred; but the rest of the people were comfortingly closer to my own age, so I got over it. We played not one, but two games of Circle of Death, as well as a couple of desultory games of three/four-person mafia and some Indian poker. The end result was that I had to sleep on Doug's futon, but since I had anticipated this, I had my pillow and blanket, so it could have been worse. I wasn't actually that intoxicated, but I don't condone drunk driving, so I stayed there until around 8am, then came home and slept until noon.

Consequently, my intentions of getting lots of stuff done today didn't really pan out. I had lunch at three, then called my parents, then tried to write my romance novel. I churned out a little less than 400 words but wasn't feeling it, so I stopped. Then, I made it halfway through Steinbeck's 'Travels with Charley'. I *love* it so far, and I'll post some favorite quotes, perhaps, after I've finished it. Now, though, I'm going to go to bed; I'm using the time change and all the contemplation I did this weekend to try to instill a bit of self-discipline, and so going to bed early is a good first step. Goodnight!