I'm Here, Where Are You?

Turns out it only takes ten and a half hours to drive home to Seattle from Pam's house in Davis. Good thing too, since I didn't hit the road until 1:30 this afternoon. I couldn't tear myself away without one more breakfast at Cindy's Diner. The first morning in Davis, Pam, Marc and I all went there for breakfast and I felt like I was on a road trip with mom and dad circa 1979. Cindy's has those round swivel chairs that are actually attached to a counter, and of course the naugahyde booths and a counter with a glass case where they have candy bars and gum, in case you want to buy one on your way out as you pay the bill. The great thing is that the food there is actually good and the juice is fresh-squeezed. This morning I had a small grapefruit juice and the skillet #3 (two eggs over easy with cheese, potatoes, green onions, avocado and bacon with flour tortillas) plus green chiles. I highly recommend starting a road trip this way, if you ever find your road trip starting in Davis, California.

California treated me so well this time around. There was a lot of what you see in the photo above - lazing around in the grass, soaking up sunshine. We kept referring to the conference as Summer Camp and that really was what it felt like, what with our stash of snacks in our three-girl cabin, all the meals in the dining hall and various other things. I came home with the writers conference equivalent of a yearbook - a stack of novels signed by some great authors and generally charming human beings, including Pete Fromm, Jack Driscoll and Howard Norman. Heather McHugh left too early for me to catch her, but she was just outrageously smart and I found myself feeling a little smug for having read her way back in 1987. I have one Jodi Reed to thank for that.

Hope things are going well in New York, Allison. You know you better cough up some Halloween photos. I think Ginger McDonald is going to be making an appearance in Seattle again this year, if only I can find where I put those pills...