Can't turn back now

We drove to the Bay area this last weekend and dropped the coupe off. It was picked up by the shipping company today and should be headed to San Diego to board a boat and be shipped to Maui. It's done.

Gassing up.

Somebody was excited.

The road lay out before us.

The water we hit over Donner Pass 'pinstriped' the car. Sweet.

It was such an awesome trip. We ended up being able to spend the weekend with Brant's parents - drove down to Monterey Bay, Ca and spent Saturday and Sunday exploring. They go to Monterey often, but it was my first time. As a John Stienbeck fan, I was super stoked to see Cannery Row and especially stoked to see Ed Ricketts labaroratory and the tide pools he waded in, collecting his specimens.

It's all touristy now. But still cool.

Pretty. Wish you were here.

The opening section of the book Log From the Sea of Cortez is one of my favorites. Steinbeck talks about his friendship with Ed Ricketts and I've just always been in love with how he talks about and describes his friend.

"Knowing Ed Ricketts was instant."

I feel like I've been lucky enough in my life to experience meeting someone and having a connection that felt 'instant.' It was like that with my bestest girlfriend. We just connected, as sisters. We've lived on opposite sides of the country for more years than we lived in the same town now (and soon it will almost be opposite sides of the world). I have little idea what goes on in her daily life - we talk when we can, but when there are kids and husbands and jobs and geography  hurdles it's just different from the days we used to spend laying on the dock at the lake, talking for hours and HOURS. But, now matter the distance, I know I could see her tomorrow and that 'instant' connection would still be there. That's just how soul sisters are. She is my Ed Ricketts.

So the trip was wonderful. Good time with family we will miss very soon. An unexpected reprieve from the crazy moving, packing, schedule we've got going now.

Brant leaves in 23 days and one sleep.