Memorial Day

For Memorial Day, our favorite thing to do is meet up with the extended cousins in Monterrey and party on the beach. By party, I mean eat too much food and consume alcohol while sharing (usually embarrassing) stories. This, however, is not a new tradition. In fact, meeting up at Bird Rock Beach has been going on for more than seventy years (so they tell me). This year, only a few of us were able to go, between work schedules and the recent passing of my grandfather. Yano and I drove up from Los Angeles; Meg and Dylan drove down from Santa Rosa. It was almost meeting in the middle. Almost.

Trouble. 

We started our weekend in Monterrey at a local pub called Bullwhackers. By the time Yano and I rolled in, Dylan was drowning his sorrows in Boddingtons as he watched Manchester United lose to Barcelona. It was was the early afternoon and Meg was just happy he still had all his clothes on.  From there we wandered around Cannery Row, finding our way into a forgotten strip mall that had an amazing candy store.

 Have I mentioned that I love candy ?

Mmmm...America.

This tree talked about jelly beans. 

I walked out of the store empty handed (again). I think I just like the look of candy stores; I rarely ever purchase anything. There were an odd assortment of businesses in the mall. Next to the candy store there was a Chinese restaurant and upstairs there was an antique shop. 

There were also a ton of these things:

                                                             
What are these called? Yes, I realize we are too big to play in them, but you should have seen the rocket ship! Also, where else do you ever see anything from Richard Scarry? If you don't know who that is, you should.


Back at the hotel, Dylan decided to exact his revenge (for...something...) by stacking ALL the furniture he could move in front of the bathroom door while I showered. This is what happens when you are the youngest sibling in the group. Next time, my little brother will be forced to go.

This was taped to the trash can, just in case I didn't realize what was going on.

In short, we had way too much fun that weekend; even when Dylan dared me to eat an entire ice cream sundae by myself. Two scoops, with hot fudge and whipped cream, in a waffle bowl. It was the size of my head. The first half was delicious. The second half was...painful. I haven't eaten ice cream since. I might be traumatized.

Suffice to say, I may have found my nemesis.