Travelin' Cupcakes

I have been on a whirlwind of Saturday night trips these past few weekends. It's not that I'm tiring of Los Angeles, or that I am any less in love with this city than I have recently claimed to be, it's just that when I see that '12 miles to Santa Barbara' freeway sign on the 101, I get ridiculously giddy. Or, when I pass the fancy Jack in the Box on Garnet, I know I have arrived in San Diego and the left on Jewel street is just a few blocks away. The feeling is better than a cupcake any day... And we all know that is saying, A LOT. It's a feeling of excitement (and alcohol) mixed with familiarity mixed with unpredictability mixed with the kind of unconditional love that is only found in the best of friends. Put us all together and you have trouble, but you also have memories. (Cue the 'emo' music.)

With another jaunt coming up this weekend, I have the next 5 days to gear up. On my past mini excursions, I've had soot in my eyes, Charger fans in my face (not literally) and I've spent some quality time with my little volvo. (By the way, I shuttled 6 grown adults in my pseudo-wagon, so I now know that I will officially be the coolest soccer mom on the block. If you don't see the connection between two 25-year-olds curled up in my 'way back,' then I'm afraid... you just need to look harder.)

I double-dare you to try taking directions from a 'way' back-seat driver. Nearly impossible, I tell you.

#1 Lesson learned from this weekend's San Diego trip: NEVER trust a girl in a terrible Pocohantas costume (your 'morning after' outfit is SO superior)... and NEVER (never) eat cupcakes for breakfast.

You'll be happy to know I did not partake in the latter. Victory!