HOW NOT TO REMEMBER A WEDNESDAY

Wednesday, May 3

Woke up, once again to a cloudy morning, and decided to walk to "The Mission" on Mission Blvd for breakfast. I should mention here that when we were researching this trip, I found a great web site called Local Wally's Guide to San Diego. I read everything that he suggested and note a few notes so that we had some recommendations with us; his site helped us plan our honeymoon registry. Well, Wally had recommended "The Mission" but we thought that it was a really long walk, but on the prior day, the Georgian bus driver pointed it out and said that we had to eat breakfast there and we noticed that it wasn't all that far (actually, Bryan noticed, I was just excited that both Wally and G. b. d. agreed and we were going to see if they were right).

I digress. Anyway, we made it to the restaurant, ordered mimosas and ate one of the most delicious breakfasts ever. We returned to the resort, read and napped in preparation for our "date" with my cousin Joe at 2 PM.

A note about Joe: when I was a kid, I heard about this cousin who lived in California, but I had never met or seen him. He was the only son of my grandmother's eldest sister, the only cousin older than my mom, and had lived in CA since the mid-50s. All I really knew of him was that we was a wealthy business man who never married or had children and who couldn't be bothered to visit his family on the East Coast. But, according to my grandmother, his mother, my great aunt, was kind of strange about family ties and didn't want him to get involved with the "relatives". When this aunt died in in the late '90s, my mom sent him an invitation to our annual cousin party and he accepted. Thus, Joe entered our lives. He brought with him cases of wine, a repertoire of Italian songs (and a keyboard on which to sing them) and lots of stories about his father, my great uncle Sal, and the other colorful family members no one really talked about. Everyone in my family was enchanted and my grandmother began visiting Joe in Carlsbad and he would stop in to my mom's anytime his business took him to Boston. My younger brother stayed with him when he visited San Diego a few year ago, and Bryan & I were heartily encouraged to contact him while in the area. So, we did and our plan was to drink a few cocktails with him, get a tour of the coast on the way to Carlsbad, have dinner at his condo with his partner Jan and then return to our resort. The best laid plans...

Joe arrived, looking every inch the Italian host - shiny Oldsmobile Aurora, hair combed back, arms open. Our first stop was the Soledad Monument, which gave an amazing view of SD and the bay. Then we wet our whistle at Rockbottom Brewery in La Jolla (Bryan recognized the place 'cause there is one in Cambridge). One of Joe's business partners, Andy, met up with us and had a cuppa. Andy was a bit of a cartoon character come to life - a salesman extraordinaire filled with stories about his and Joe's notorious business adventures and stuffed with opinions about religion (good catholic mexican american), baseball (spoke highly of the Satans which caused a second's lull in the conversation before Bryan shrugged it off) and white people (doesn't particularly care for them and by white people meant WASPS - don't worry Kate, we love you). It was a thoroughly entertaining 3-beer stop though B & I agreed that we couldn't imagine spending more than an hour with Andy.

We got the guided tour through Torrey Pines, Cardiff-by-the-Sea, Del Mar, Encinitas and, finally, Carlsbad, where the Flower Fields were in full bloom. We stopped in front of this tourist attraction for a photo op and then indulged my desire for fresh strawberried by stopping at a roadside stand. We also slaked our thirst once more (or kept the buzz going, whichever), this time with 22 oz. beers at Karl Strauss.

Then on to Joe's condo where the charming Jan, a chilled champagne, hors d'oeuvres and delectable Italian food awaited us [the menu: homemade Italian wedding soup, antipasto, cavatelle with ricotta, homemade sauce & meatballs and porkchops, followed by a brownie with vanilla gelato]. In addition to the bottle of champagne (polished off mostly by B & me as Joe refilled our glasses each time we took a sip), we drank 1 and 3/4 bottles of excellent Zinfandel and had shots of Lemoncella (well, Joe & I did). I'm pretty sure that that little glass of lemon-flavored deliciousness eradicated any bit of sobriety to which I might have clung.

Jan drove our intoxicated asses back to the resort. I held Joe's hand the entire way and smilingly faded in and out of consciousness. The last thing I remember was saying goodbye to my cousins at the Resort lobby before waking up in my bathing suit, with my contacts still in my eyes, at 3:24 AM. Hmmmm.

I found out Thursday morning that I had agreed to a dip in the hot tub, allowed my husband to dress me in my suit, then passed out, contacts in, on top of the covers. i also discovered that we left Carlsbad with 2 bottles of damned good Zin, a lot of tarallis (a type of Italian pretzel with anis seed), and new crystal champagne flutes in honor of our nuptials. I also learned that i didn't do or say anything too retarded under the influence of the 10+ drinks i'd consumed. Joe was the consummate host and we enjoyed the condo filled with German steins, clocks, and shag carpets. We even agreed to visit again after our balloon ride the next Tuesday. I hoped to actually remain sober enough to write down all of the family stories Joe has to share.

See Bryan's blog for our May 4th sunbathing saga...