home is where the brownies are

Hola from La Jolla (pronounced La Hoya for the 0.001% of you who aren't fluent in Spanish). I've a got a little coldy, and it is curiously overcast, and United lost my luggage but that doesn't stop sunny San Diego from being relaxing and fun. For one thing, the airline is going to reimburse me so I got to go on a cool replace-my-stuff shopping trip and I am now the proud owner of madras shorts (damn you, Amherst!!...pass the cognac, will you, Winchester?), one of those floor-length dressthings (and by 'things' I mean 'es'), a new swimsuit (highlighter yellow top/hot pink bottom), and those flip-flops Rachel has ... all courtesy of Target.

So far I've been spending my days having coffee at Pannikin (the local Rao's type outfit) across the street from my dad's apartment and poking around the adjacent antique bookstore (so indie...*shakes bangs into face*). It's weird adjusting to not only not having my home at Amherst but also not living in my home of 15+ years here in SD. While I was finishing up this past semester, my mom and dad moved out of our condo and into my dad's apartment, and we are now sprucing up the condo to rent out to students and the like to make some extra mulah. The apartment is nice enough, and it is in a really cool area of the city, but its not my home, you know?

To quote Selena from two years ago on a certain strange April day, "What is home?"
I don't know baby, but its not where I am. Home existed in the past and I hope it just leapt out of the present for a bit so that I would be extra happy to meet it again in the future. I'm sure that's the case. Until then, the happy idyll of tourism in a very pleasant city is where I'll be.

I am drinking this


and playing with this


and I love this

that is to say, you.

happy trails