Change of Pace

No one who has spent time there would call California, at least outside of the L.A. megalopolis, a really fast- paced place, especially if you compare it to its metropolitan peers on the eastern seaboard. Next to almost any place in the south, however, especially the town where my grandparents live, San Bernadino County is a certifiable frenzy.

We flew into Houston late Tuesday night and pulled into my grandparents' driveway early Wednesday morning. Dad arrived Thursday. Since then, it's been a whole lot a nothin' ("Nothin'" in a positive sense, the lazing around the house and fishing off my uncle's dock find of nothin'). Yesterday was Charlie's birthday party, which I somehow managed not to get any pictures of. Actually, with Dad and I both here, there are about thirty-seven-million pictures being taken at any given moment, including yesterday, so I'm not worried about it.

Anyway, that fishing excursion. "Excursion" in this usage meaning "Uncle Richard's dock".

Alex trying to spot the fish, I guess. Perhaps he thought he could spear them, or dive in and catch them.

Charlie and Melissa ponder the mysteries of life. Or of fishing tackle.

No, Charlie, don't do it! (For the record, I had no part whatsoever in inspiring or encouraging this posed picture. None at all.)

I was rather surprised to see Noona playing with a dead shrimp on a hook. She tends to be rather squeamish, but evidently wearing her PaPa's hat cures that.

Before too long here, I will hopefully have the last of our California adventures up. If I recall correctly (as I almost never do), Sea World is all that's lacking.