to grandmother's house (though not into the woods)

We have recently returned from a pretty swell trip to California to visit Kiddo's grandparents who are neither demonstrative:

This is one of about 14 pictures Kiddo took of Gramps that evening.

nor affectionate.

Get used to this outfit, kid. You'll be wearing it for the next 17 hours.

We arrived on the tail end of a heatwave so, while it was not as bad as the previous day's high of 105, it was still pretty unbearable for us pasty northwesterners. After a mostly uneventful couple of flights and a short car ride to my ancestral home, there was really nothing left to do but run through the sprinklers. Actually, the folks were watering the lawn and Kiddo looked out the window and said, "I want to run in the sprinkler." Who are we to say "no"? Nobody, that's who.

I'm pretty sure there are pictures of me doing just this thing. 39 years ago.

The primary objective of the trip was for our little bundle to spend some quality time with her American grandparents (and to eat good, cheap Mexican food). We began our adventure at the local Discovery Museum (sadly, we were a week too early for "Sharktober") where, because my hometown is pretty country, we spent a lot of time in the barn (where there is also a whole wall devoted to barbecue).

She brought that thing down without an inch of Manila rope.

We also spent a lot of time piloting a speed boat through imaginary waters. The boat was actually a display on bird poop, most of which I managed to keep out of the frame of this picture I find otherwise adorable. She found the vest and put it on by herself.

I would like to stop talking about any kind of poop now.

Within walking distance of my folks' place (we drove) is a huge park that I used to go to as a kid. It was always a lot of fun but the city has really cleaned it up lately and made it super family-friendly. It's perfect for parents who want to sit in their trucks and ignore their hillbilly children who won't let anyone else ride on the swings, then lean on the horn when it's time for her and her jerk kids to go home. Also, there was this:

"If you love me, follow me! Or something."

After a day or so, the weather cooled off so we got in the car and headed south where it was hotter. Are we idiots? Probably, but we couldn't just sit in the house all day so we loaded up the rented mini-van (because Budget was "out of cars" so they moved our reservation to Hertz and I think the 12-year-old boy working the Hertz counter saw our carseat and assumed I needed a van) and headed to Solvang. But first, we stopped and had lunch at Pea Soup Andersen's. I hadn't been since I was a kid, despite growing up just a hop and a skip away, but the pea soup wasn't so bad and I did get this picture which was probably worth the whole trip.

"When I nod my head, you hit it."

Then we went to Solvang and it was so effin' hot that I don't remember much about it except the part where I ate ice cream and didn't want to go back outside. Oh, and we drove past an ostrich farm. And I saw the Solvang Theatrefest building and got all nostalgic for my days in theater school.

Which was okay because the next day we went up to Pismo Beach and had lunch with an old theater school chum and then hung around way too close to the cliffs. I think there used to be more cliff, but erosion does what it wants.

Not pictured, the sheer drop-off about 2 feet behind the photographer.

It was also really windy which felt great after a couple of days of hanging around inside what felt like a bread oven.

"And I love what it does for my hair!"

Then we headed back down to the valley of hot because my big brother was coming into town with his family and I wanted Kiddo to spend more time with her cousins (the same cousins we stayed with when we went to Kiddo's other cousin's wedding in May -- the kid has a lot of cousins). And because Grandma Honey (which the kid called Grandma once or twice and we spent the rest of the week trying to get her to say it again) had ice cream.

She eats like someone is going to take it from her. Her old man is proud.

The next day was Grandma Honey's birthday and still more cousins were coming into town for a big to-do at Auntie M and Uncle Gonzo's place. But before the party, we were invited over to the hotel where Uncle Paulie, Auntie G and kids were staying, for a little splashy splashy.

Not pictured: Uncles Paulie and Tim drinking beer and "watching" the kids.

Eventually, we made it to the birthday party, which was everything a party with my family should be: loud, fun, loud, a little boozy, loud, meat-based, loud, and with multiple desserts. Also, genetics were on display. Proudly.

Longtime readers might recognize them two ginks over there on the right from a previous party.

After about a week, it was time to pack up and head home. The trip was loads of fun, super relaxing, and a third thing that I can't come up with because I'm still tired from the 14 hours it took us to get home because we couldn't get to San Francisco so were stuck in San Luis Obispo for four hours in an airport where there is exactly one thing to do (that one thing being nothing) and when we finally did get into SFO at 6:00 that evening we couldn't get a flight out until 10:50 which means we didn't touch down at home until 1:00 in the morning which means we didn't get to our car until about 1:30 which means we didn't get home until after 2:00 when I finally just left Wife and Kiddo downstairs eating cereal while I went to bed because I had to be at work later that morning.

Portrait of a troublingly alert toddler at 1:30 am.

Many thanks to California and most of its citizens (except you, jerk in the truck who couldn't be bothered to keep an eye on -- or give baths to -- her children). We'll be back. Mostly because we love your sunglasses.

I would tell you she got these as a reward for pooping at Grandma's, but I said I wasn't going to talk about poop anymore, so I won't.