Sandy Eggo trip log, Part 1

Call us crazy, but, we loaded up the Bee and the Twinkies and ~200 pounds worth of stroller, diapers, luggage, pack-n-play, and camera gear and were on the open road at 0645 — which was a miracle all in itself considering we didn’t get our “pre-trip todo list” finished until midnight.  When the Twinks woke up for their 0500 feeding, it was game on. After pulling Maia from bed, she sleepily rubbed her eyes and said, “we’re going on adventure. Go to beach” as she was plunked into her chilly car seat.

We debated about how to go; the conventional route takes you down I5 until your frustration of people zooming up the right lane and cutting you off causes you to want to start plinking their tires. Instead, we decided to take the slightly longer, but more scenic 101.  An added bonus was there’d be more opportunities for the “ohh crap, we gotta stop now” excursions that many parts of I5 would mean the middle of nowhere.

San Jose to San Diego

The Frommer’s Califonia guide book lead us to the Big Sky Cafe, in San Luis Obispo. Not only was the breakfast delicious, but, they also have beignets; served as we’ve come to expect in a checked paper basket just like Cafe Du Monde. Steamy, doughy pillows of heart attack heaven — what more can you ask for?

Back on the road, the trip through the hills and down the coast left me wondering why I’d ever want to drive I5 again. Traffic was fairly relaxed and the comparatively few trucks kept the right-lane-zoom-n-cut-in assholes to a minimum. There was some fret about getting stuck in LA traffic during rush-hour, so, we just kept the hammer down as long as the Twinks would go; which wound up being the Hunting Beach Mall. Orange County; blecl. The abundance of boob jobs was about the only thing worth while.

We finally rolled into the hotel parking lot about 1745 with not but a few minutes of stop-n-go traffic the entire trip.  Only a few tears from the Twinks, and none from the toddler. Maia was appeased for most of the trip with her moose and a bag of “raw” cereal, as she likes to call it prior to the introduction of milk.

We stayed at the Sommerset Suites, which had quite reasonable rates on …. you got it: multi-room suites. ‘Twas a bit of a splurge but, having a seperate livingroom to hang out in while the kiddo’s sleep in peace was worth it.  Plus, the location couldn’t have been more perfect; walking distance to lots of old haunts from years past when Valerie lived here. The only bummer with the hotel is its location: next to the Scripps Hospital with the coresponding random emergency vehicle sirens.

With the kids and bags schlepped up to the room,  thoughts turned to dinner. Over the years Lex has mentioned several times that Bronx Pizza is the best in all of San Diego. At a mere 2 blocks away,it was a no-brainer to try out.  While I’m more of a Chicago style pizza man, there’s always a time and place for thin-crust New York style, and this was one of them.  That said, the canned/frozen spinach did nothing for the first impressions of the joint, but it was cetainly worth giving it a second try.  Best in the city?  Meh.

The next morning, Maia woke up ready for adventure. We strolled the troop down Fifth street to our favorite breakfast joint — ever:  Hash House a Go Go.

There’s always a wait; about a half-hour this time (note the above picture was from 2 years ago). Maia kept saying, “let’s go inside, eat pancakes!” Bad parents that we are, we didn’t get her anything to snack on prior to what turned out to be a very late breakfast.

But, we made it up to her by strolling over to Balboa Park where she proceeded to make new friends all over the play ground. By the time we strolled back to the hotel she had passed out in the back-pack carrier and napped till ~1700. Plans for Sushi Deli 2 were abruptly changed when we drove by to find ~30 people loitering in front — why do all the best places have to be so, you know, popular?

No problem, a quick trip over to another old haunt, Shakespeare’s, for pub grub and beer. Valerie carried Maia in and I lugged a carseat in each hand, which never fails to garner attention and the inevitable, “ohhh, look. Twins!”  But, on top of that, I overheard, “Don’t they know this is a bar?”.  Well, yes, there *is* a bar, but, it is *not* a bar. They even have a kids menu, so phbbbbttt!  Our watress was a mother of twins herself and wholeheartedly thought we were doing the very best thing for them by bringing them out and getting them aquainted with the world.  I’ll drink to that!

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