Radness is not a word, just go with it.
Let me just tell you how my airplane experience went: Crying baby on one flight, upchuck on another. Okay, so I actually felt bad for mom with crying baby. It’s difficult and can be embarrassing when your the one with the kid who can’t stop crying and screaming. Then, on my 50 min flight toward the end…I upchucked a little. Are we at this point in the blog relationship where I can tell you that now? Well, it happened. We’ve breached the relationship and now there’s no turning back.
You know that thing when you drink a lot and you know what’s about to happen next, but you don’t want it to? Don’t lie to me and think to yourself, “Oh no…never…I know my limit.” You dirty liars, it’s happened ONCE before. Should I rephrase this whole ordeal: this is a comforting and non-judgmental place. I just told you guys I almost barfed on an airplane (I basically did). We’re okay, moving on.
I’m definitely not in Texas anymore.
I could have worn a sweater when the sun was setting today. The foolish Texan in me refused to such foreign concepts in the summer. To wear a sweater in the SUMMER? That’s just crazy if you’re not inside! And to have cheesecake and coffee? Okay, that could totally be a Texas thing…but being at Camp Damata is the best. That’s what I’m calling my stay here now. So I’m going to not apologize in advance for my additional hashtag of #campdamata. There are mountains, there’s the Pacific Ocean, but where’s the P. Terry’s and Whataburger (and Central Market)? These are my immediate Texan concerns, I guess I have to adapt for the next twoish weeks.
So today started off kind of rough, and I don’t know how I’m still typing…it must be leftover travel jitters. And tomorrow I’m making an effort to run because I would be DUMB to not take advantage of this beautiful California weather.
P.S. People in California say rad. I’m trying to say rad. Is that Texan of me?