Welcome to California

I thought I lived in California for a year but I was wrong.

California is actually located in Temecula, California; a place so California it's measured in dog years. Live there three weeks and that counts as almost five months spent in California.

Temecula is an hour from Los Angeles, an hour from San Diego, and an hour from the beach. That can either sound like the best thing or the worst, depending on what inflection you use. It really depends on how you pronounce the word "hour." Is that a fast hour, a quick fifty-five-minutes-and-you're-in-the-ocean trip? Or is that an hour of desolate unbearable wasteland separating you from anything fun? I can't tell you. You'll have to find out for yourself.

What I will tell you is that Temecula, California has streets so wide there are sometimes three left turn lanes. Three left turn lanes!

To me, all undeveloped nature looks straight out of either Jurassic Park or Land Before Time, and Temecula is the Land Before Time sort of nature, which is cool because most of Portland is the Jurassic Park sort.

It's the desolate unbearable wasteland kind.

My sister Bryn made me this mug to commemorate our weekend in Temecula so now everything I drink tastes like California. If you live near me you're welcome to try it. I live in Jurassic Park.

Why are these wet

The other day a cab driver and I were talking about Metallica.

I'm not sure how we started talking about Metallica. I had a super early flight and a cab so early I honestly think I called it in my sleep, and I woke up halfway to the airport halfway through a conversation about Metallica. So there we were. This cab driver loved heavy metal.

"Yeah I've been into heavy metal since I was a kid" he said as I rubbed my eyes and swallowed a yawn. "Even in fifth grade I was always wearing ripped jeans and heavy metal t-shirts, I was a real freak. All the other kids were like WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU and I was like hey, I'm just really into Metallica."

I was a real freak in fifth grade too.

Once in fifth grade our Sunday school teacher gave us each a handful of Skittles, and then asked me to come up and write some things on the chalkboard. So I set my Skittles down on top of my notebook. 

"Don't eat my Skittles, you guys." I announced to the class. "I licked them all."

I wasn't even halfway to the chalkboard when one of the girls screamed. "These are wet! Why are your Skittles wet?!" She was holding one of my Skittles (probably a red one, those are the best) and looking horrified.

"I told you," I said, real calmly, cool as anything. "I licked them."

For some reason that explanation freaked out the whole class. All the other kids were like WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU and I wish I could have responded with hey, I'm just really into Metallica.

I know this picture is too recent but I love their faces in it. They look like their photographer is speaking another language.

You can ask this fifth-grader if she likes Metallica but she's too busy brushing her teeth with a Sonicare to answer so don't bother.

I am really into jazz music though.

Casting list: Portland airport

Girl in a mouse shirt and a black leather jacket.

That's me, but it's not really leather, just black plastic.

Woman at bag check.

The one who says "There are mice on your shirt" using the same tone of voice you'd use to tell someone your name.

Man who calls for backup when you set off the metal detector.

"Attention! We've got a woman in a leather jacket!" is probably some sort of airport code for "Look how cool this girl is!" but it's not really leather, just black plastic.

Woman who wipes your hands with a wet wipe after you set off the metal detector.

You set off the metal detector? No problem. Now that your hands are wet you're good to go.