Random Thoughts on My Trip to California

Some of the women on southern California beaches incorrectly think they are still “California Girls” and squeeze their no longer lithe bodies into scraps of fabric much too tiny.

The Computer History Museum in Mountain View is so information dense that a couple of hours there are mentally exhausting.  Those in charge of the exhibits should consider that interactivity isn’t just for kids.

The guy next to me on one leg of the trip kept his tray table down the entire flight with his hands under it although he had his eyes closed and was possibly faking sleep.  His hands kept twitching under the tray in the vicinity of his crotch, and I am not certain what he was doing under there.  Can someone join the Mile High Club all by himself?

The consignment store in Mountain View is filled with the cast-offs of the well-off….some really excellent items.

My hair dries noticeably faster in Yorba Linda than it does in upstate New York…..major difference in the humidity.

The salesman where I shopped with my son and daughter-in-law for a sofa was the ideal salesman.  He was not pushy; he was informative; and he had a sense of humor.  This was helpful since my son and daughter-in-law must have tried out 70 sofas before reaching a decision.  It was not yet noon when he informed us that the store closed at 10 PM.

It is possible for two skinny men to lay in the shade of a palm tree trunk….amusing, but possible.

My son does not live on a block…he lives on the edge of a maze.  I discovered this while trying to walk around the block.

When I am severely tired and jet-lagged, my brain does strange things.  When we finally collapsed into bed after a very long day, I began to drift off to sleep but was awakened by the notion that I could not feel my right hand.  My left hand was lying on top of it, but I couldn’t feel it.  As my foggy brain tried to sort out the possibilities, I eventually figured out that my sleeping husband’s hand was positioned across my abdomen, and it was his right hand, not mine, that my left hand was touching.  I was relieved that I hadn’t lost feeling in my right hand, but a bit concerned about the function of my brain.