Walkabout

So, we walked from Newport Beach to Solana Beach. Not the entire way, good gosh, that would be insane. Who do you think I am?

Alright, my outfit. I know. But I make no apologies because this is what happens when I have to wake up at four am to get on a six am flight. I start thinking thoughts like, "Yeah, sure, army patterned workout leggings go perfectly with a royal blue t-shirt with a great big moon on it. Oh, and this super dorky red hat. This works. This makes sense." (Hence, black and white.)

Aaaaaand yeah. Wow. This is already way too many pictures. Anyway. As I was saying, we walked. A few people in Drew's family have been doing this every year for the past few years, and by a few people, obviously, I mean never me. Because, yes, this kind of thing is very unlike me - voluntary exercise. For fun. 

And it was fun. But not fun like a carnival is fun. Fun in the way where overall it was a great experience - we saw lots of things and smelled lots of smells. But also there were those moments where I stopped and said to Drew adamantly, "I cannot walk another single freaking step. I can't." As if there was something he could do about this.

He'd give me the look with his high eyebrows, like, And you think there's something I can do about this? Then he'd hug and give me a pep talk and I'd start walking again.

What I mostly remember is falling asleep with wet hair on a hotel bed the first night and all I could think about was how my heels hurt so bad it felt like they had caved in.

But like I said, fun.
(No sarcasm.)

We started, as I said, in Newport. And there was this guy outside of the grocery store where we bought all of our trail goodies yelling to himself. We thought (hoped?) maybe he was just wearing a Blue Tooth. You know, those guys. "Oh, just on my Blue Tooth." As if you're the one who looks stupid in this situation. Anyway, he wasn't wearing a Blue Tooth. And he was yelling - yelling something crazy about prostitution. I don't know.

We discovered that squirrels live on beaches.

We stopped, at one point, in Laguna were we had the best gosh damn guacamole I have ever, ever had. In my entire life, ever.

We made it to San Clamente where we stayed the night, where my knee started doing something weird (As in hurting for some weird reason. Like, as if it isn't used to this kind of thing?). Drew and I walked down the street to pick up pizza, and my hair was frizzy and my face was sunburnt and I was limping and there's just no way it didn't look like some nice bearded man helping out some cripple he came across on the street.

The next day, we walked more. There was a highway. It all started to blur until we got to Encinitas, where I saw the apartments pictured above and thought to myself, This place gets me.