I spent pretty much the whole weekend at the bar, starting with Friday night's show, a work meeting at noon (which lasted until 5pm and involved wine tasting, i.e., getting trashed in the middle of the day), and then headed back there for another show. I ended up sleeping in until 2pm today to make up for the war I'd just ravaged on my liver, when Aaron finally begged me to get up so we could get out of the house like we'd been planning all week.
So we decided to have a pic-a-nic at the beach. There are several fine beaches we could have patronized, but we decided to head 20 minutes south to Carpinteria to see what that little town has to offer. We were delighted that they have a cute little downtown with lots of cafes and bakeries and ice cream shops from which we could pick up some pic-a-nic fixins. By the time we parked, got the dogs leashed, and walked around, we came to find out why we will never go back to Carpinteria: everything was closed! At 3pm! On a Sunday! The only things open were, like, Senor Frog's Mexican Restaurant, Giovanni's Pizza, and the Coffee Bean.
We ended up going to Von's and getting sammiches and soda and then headed to a beach we had driven past. We got the dog's leashed, our plastic bags packed full of food and towels and poo bags, and then headed to the beach ... only to find out that in order to get to the beach proper, we would have to walk a mile along a "nature" trail. We decided to head back to the main strip where we knew there was a beach at the end. We park, leash, pack up, and start walking towards the ocean when I look up at the sign decreeing that no alcohol, camping, fires, or DOGS are allowed on the fucking beach. I looked at Aaron; Aaron looked at me; the dogs sniffed each other's butts, and we decided to damn the consequences and eat our stupid sandwiches and head home. Good thing to, because it started raining as soon as we got back to the car.
So our Big Relaxing Day o' Fun was a complete bust, but at least I got to sleep in.