… at least it is here, at Once Upon a Lime. If you remember the last tale of Mini Twin’s visit, we spent a lovely evening in Laguna Beach fine dining and hiding from the June Gloom overcast. (If you need a refresher, post is here) So turn your clocks back, flip a page on your calendar, and settle in – we’ve got some story-telling to do…
After our low-key night of beach walking in Laguna and home-viewing of Tim Burton’s Alice in Wonderland, B, MT, & I woke early Saturday morning with an adventure on our agenda.
[ sidenote : only a few of these alleged “adventures” were actually planned, which should be apparent after reading ]
Adventure #1 : Battle weekend traffic up the 55 and Pacific Coast Hwy
Adventure #2 : Find parking mid-morning, in June, at one of the most popular beaches in SoCal
Adventure #3 : Navigate the boardwalk without getting run over by teen-angst skateboards or families of 10 pulling roll-y coolers, and finally make it to our seats at the AVP Pro Beach Volleyball Tournament at Huntington Beach.
Adventure #4 : (After a few matches) Venture out for food. On Main St we practically brush shoulders (well, my shoulder, his forearm) with Phil Dalhausser, who is the A-Rod/
LeBron Kobe/Tom Brady of volleyball. Which means this close encounter had me embarrassingly gawking over his giant baldness.
Adventure #5 : Choose a lunch spot where three totally different taste buds will be happy, on a budget, in a city you’ve never been, surrounded by restaurants you’ve never heard of, while THOUSANDS (seemingly) of people form a steady stream of traffic down the sidewalk and street. I’m talking stroller-pushing, longboard-riding, bikini-wearing, cigarette-smoking, drunk-guys-“HEY BRAH!”ing, cars-honking, music-blaring, Surf City USA, madness.
I was so flustered, and so hungry, and so responsible for the insane situation we were in, that I just couldn’t take it. I peeled off down a side street and leaned against the wall, trying to regulate my breathing and keep the tears that were welling in my eyes from falling. I’d never felt so out-of-control and helpless as I did at that moment. I’ve gotten myself so far in the weeds before that it felt impossible to resurface, but have always been able to pull myself out. Not this time. I’m sure the pressures and struggles from the job and MOVING OUR ENTIRE LIVES ACROSS THE COUNTRY were accountable for quite a few of the straws on my camel’s back, and trying to fake my way through the ‘perfect hostess’ routine was, I guess, the tipping point.
For the first time in nearly as long as I can remember, I allowed someone to pick me up off the floor (hypothetically, for the most part) and take control over the mess I’d created. I left some of my OCD on the pavement of that side street in Huntington, as well as some of my dignity, but I just let it happen.
B led us to a mediterranean joint that seemed to appease everyone, even though I think after my Meltdown of the Century we could have had fried cow poop and they would have (pretended) to enjoy it, for the sake of my fragile state.
Adventure #6 : Return to seats and enjoy the rest of the afternoon, as if nothing super embarrassing and psychiatric-ward-ish had just happened.
Minus my little faux pas, the day was wonderful. Mostly because we got Yogurtland on the way home, but also because AVP is awesome and MT & I got to relive our heydays as superstars on our teeny tiny Division IV high school teams. While B ignored us and wondered how Dalhausser gets his head so smooth.
There are more MT stories to tell, and lots of exciting current events to catch y’all up on, but they’re gonna have to wait. I’ve gotta go do something that I’m good at to feel better about recounting that super vulnerable I’m-Not-Superwoman story. Please send all therapy and/or pharmaceutical references to iswearidon’firstname.lastname@example.org
It’s no 12-step, but admission still feels like a big deal,