Christmas Eve

I suppose I should get through my vacation before it becomes February.
As you may remember, my first day in Los Angeles was pretty nice. It was in the 60s and 70s and we spent much of our time in Malibu and on a beach.

The next day, Christmas Eve day, was just as nice. Brian and I went to pick our parents up at their hotel and we went out for breakfast at a restaurant Brian frequents. The Overland Cafe. We all had a little breakfast, that was quite tasty, and that was the morning. I actually can't really remember what we did for the greater part of the day. I know we ran around to a couple of grocery stores to try and find stuff to bring to some friends' house for dinner that night. Maybe if a family member reads this and remembers they can comment below.

So after getting dressed and finding a couple bottles of wine we headed up to Ventura. We could have taken the PCH, but that would have taken forever. So we took the 405 to the 101 up to Ventura.

Did you notice what I said right there?
I said "the" 405 and "the" 101. They are pronounced "the four oh five" and "the one oh one". That is how freeways are referred to in California. Every one is the number preceeded by "the". It is easy and it works. It's better than Chicago where every interstate has an actual name "Take the such and such to the Eisenhower". But even if it works out there it just doesn't sound right applied anywhere else. I mean if I told anyone here in Bozeman that I was going to take Main Street to the 90 to the 94 to Minneapolis. They'd laugh in my face. And if I was in my old home town and told someone that they needed to take the 13 to the 77 to the 494 to get to the airport, they'd look at me funny. Or (just to get really convoluted) if I said "take the 13 to the 77 to the 494 to the 35W (I think that and 35E are the ones that really screw it up) to the 62 to the 101 to get near my old place of work", well, I wouldn't blame them if they decided that they never wanted to talk to me again. Anyway, it was a fun observation my parents and I made while we were down there.

So, there we were, travelling up the 101. We made it to the Hall's house an hour or so before dinner. Debbie, the mom, was a very good friend of my mom's in high school. So they've been friends forever. I don't remember if Dave, the dad, had grown up with them or if he entered the picture later. They had three kids, Matt, Siri, and Ben. Matt was a little younger than I was and the other two were younger than Brian. At first, just Debbie and Siri were there, oh, and Ben's dog.

Hmmm, I can't remember the dog's name right now. Anyway, he was the most muscular dog I had ever seen. He was a pitbull mix and whatever he was mixed with was a beefcake. Just a solid brickhouse of rippling muscle. And he loved to play. In the back yard he just ran back and forth trying to get people to chase him. If you were sitting down on a couch or chair or the floor, he would be right over and trying to climb up on you and lick your face. A really friendly and fun dog.

After a while Matt and Ben and Dave came home. And we did a lot of visiting. My mom and Dad remembered the family a lot better than Brian and I did. We had seen Debbie and Dave a little bit at my brother Matt's wedding, but we hadn't seen the kids since we were very young and our two families took a trip together to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area.

After a very tasty dinner of ham and potatoes and a number of other yummy things (we were all so thankful that we didn't have to go out to eat for Christmas Eve dinner) we played some cards and talked some more. After that we went to church, where Dave is the pastor. I was racking my brain to try and remember if I had ever known a pastor in a social setting, let alone having dinner with one right before he led Christmas Eve candlelight services, and I don't think I have. It was a nice service and neat to see Dave up there talking to everyone.

After that we headed back down to LA to go to sleep before Christmas.