Today was a day that dawned early. The boys woke up before I went to sleep and since i had forced my wife to join me for late-night pizza last night I decided (meaning she told me) to let her sleep in. Because of this I had no choice but to tell the kids to go back to bed. Since they are kids they, of course, didn’t listen to me. After crawling out of bed the boys and I made our way downstairs where I gave entertained them (gave them iPads) until there was sufficient back-up for me to run down the street and get the strongest coffee I could find (I still have the shakes from the caffeine blitzkrieg that was the Hammerhead).
While my wife slept and the rest of the family walked 248 miles to breakfast the boys and I drove to a donut shop called L’il Orbitz. On the way there we drove past the families and the three of us pointed and laughed.
We felt a little guilty about this later.
L’il Orbitz was a made to order mini-donut and cronut (made with real crows) shop. It was fun picking out the different flavors that we wanted and watching the donuts being made, however, the feather that we found in one of the cronuts was a tad off-putting. The truly great thing about this shop was the music. I’ve never seen my youngest son, who likes to dance anyway, groove so much while listening to Snoop Dogg’s Gin and Juice and NWA’s F*** the Police; it was an enlightening experience for the boys.
On the drive back to the house we, once again, pointed and laughed at the family who were on mile 4 of their 2,584 mile breakfast journey. Additionally, my sons, who had somehow adorned themselves with red (youngest) and blue (oldest) bandanas kept busy on the ride by throwing gang-signs at various passers-by. Boys will be boyz!
Passing the kids off to my wife when we returned I then set out to pick up my father-in-law who, after just 23 miles, had sent me a text asking, in a desperate way, to be picked up. Since I’m a firm believer in picking people up in their time of need as long as there is a brewery nearby, I had no choice but to help him out.
After picking him up, the two of us pointed and laughed at the other family members that decided to continue on their 12,543 mile breakfast journey, and made our way to the Acoustic Ale Brewing Experiment.
Housed in a building that was once home to one of the first breweries in San Diego, Acoustic Ale featured a very nice variety of beers as well as an excellent bartender who kept us in good conversation while we sampled a number (not sure which number) of their beers. My personal favorites were the Mosh Pit (a hoppy red) and Tushy (a sessionable IPA).
Those of us who weren’t on the 543,634 mile breakfast journey went to the beach and got ourselves and everything we brought sandy. After washing all of the sand off of ourselves and belongings we headed back to the beach to have sandy dinner.
The beach dinner was nice…and sandy. We hired a high schooler to set fire to a bunch of wood because, let’s face it, who knows better how to set fire to things than a high school boy? With the fire set and the food sufficiently coated in sand we proceeded to burn hot dogs, marshmallows, watermelon and carrot sticks beyond recognition so that we wouldn’t have to eat any of it and went to Sarah’s Mexican Food instead.
With our bellies full we went back to the beach to reapply a coating of sand to everything and ourselves and found ourselves in a most inhospitable situation; we were surrounded by seagulls. Not just any seagulls, but a gang of SoCal seagulls. Adorned with matching black baseball caps with the word “C-Gullz” written out in calligraphic script across the front, they, if you have never seen them before, are quite an intimidating bunch. At first a few taunts were directed our way, none of which we responded to; this only served to make them angrier. While we went about our business of covering ourselves, and everything that we had with us, in sand we noticed, much too late, that we were now surrounded by this gang of seagulls. Hoping that there was a way to get out of this situation without anyone (us) getting hurt, my two son’s, remembering that they were gang members after listening to Cypress Hill’s “How I Could Just Kill Man” at breakfast, started throwing up gang signs again that then led the C-Gullz to charge from all sides. Our group, each of us, with handfuls of sand as our only weapons, stood with our backs to each other ready to fight.
The C-Gullz charged.
My youngest son said something that no child of that age should say (freakin’ donut shop).
The Gullz, pulled out their switchblades (no idea from where – and would rather not think about it).
I wet myself a little.
The biggest of the Gullz was nearly upon us when, as a last resort – and as a way to teach him a lesson for using foul language, I grabbed my youngest son to offer him as a sacrifice. As luck would have it, however, the rest of the family had returned from their 12,021,365,965 mile trip to breakfast and, due to the fact that the restaurant was closed by the time the got there, they were not in a good mood.
I’ll spare you the details but let’s just say that when my wife’s family is hungry anything, and I do mean anything, will suffice to satisfy their appetites; regardless of whose name is on it. Needless to say we all pointed and laughed at the picked-over carcasses of the C-Gullz as we all walked back to the house.
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