I’m moving to a new, much larger, much nicer apartment about 10 minutes away from my home now.  It’s in Los Feliz, which is my favoritest neighborhood on the east side.  Please let me know if you need the new address.  Phone numbers will not change.

I decided to go on a vacation over Memorial Day weekend. I decided this about the Thursday before, or thereabouts. It was slightly difficult to find a venue that was more upscale than the Captain Walker Motel of one’s childhood visit to Williamsburg. See, I feel that as a grownup with a good job and no family obligations, I should be able to pony up for the three stars. I wanted to go sailing on my trip, since I have never been. I found a cute place* to stay in San Luis Obispo, which is up the Central Coast near Morro Bay.

I didn’t get to sail. It was freaking cold. Like, seriously, I was so underpacked for this trip. It was 62 degrees with 25 mph winds. Morro Bay was really something. It wasn’t like a ratty East Coast beach with the boardwalk stores that still sell shirts about johnsons designed to get boys in trouble with their mamas. It was just this sleepy little town with a lot of ocean next to it and some boats and restaurants. I’d like to go up there again for a shorter weekend later this summer once it’s warmer. Alternatively, I hear there’s an ocean in Santa Monica.

So, instead of the boating, I went to Hearst Castle. I got to see where the SLA totally bombed the one guest house! Julia Morgan, this chick architect who was like the first woman to do lots and lots of things, designed the place, and it’s epic. I bought a huge book on it through which I intend to work my way soon.

There were four tours available for the day of my visit. I selected the Experience Tour, recommended for first time guests, and the Garden Tour. It was $24 per tour, so for two of us, we were looking at $96. Each tour lasts 1.5 hours. 20-30 minutes of each tour is taken up with a bus ride from the visitors center up the hill to the castle. You have to come back down to the visitors center on the bus in between the tours. My boyfriend is freaky tall, and his knees were not exactly fitting too well in this bus. Each ride made him crankier. I’m just saying. Plan ahead with whatever your antidote to pain or annoying people making phone calls on a tour bus is. Due to my tour choices, I didn’t see, like, Hearst’s private quarters. I intend to go again. My knees were fine. I am only one Bronwen tall.

On the way up, we passed the fake Danish town of Solvang. I say fake because it looks like the Disneyland of Danish crap. We drove through the main strip. We were not enticed to get out of the vehicle. Also, we thought the town was Dutch. It was Danish. I don’t know why exactly, but this was a bummer. It still had windmills.

On the way back, I had to eat something really badly. We were outside Solvang, and the sign on the PCH said, “Next services 33 miles.” It turns out that they cannot bake in Solvang. I do not recommend the cinnamon buns. This was painfully obvious due to the outstanding cinnamon bun I had eaten previously at House of Bread in SLO. It was very organic and delightful, and I rue not buying their cookbook.

Due to the minor clusterfuck that was booking my vacation, I booked my 4th of July trip to Vegas with my sister as soon as I got home.

*Cute place rendered cuter by awesomeness of shower facilities.