We're in Southern California for the weekend, a trip that necessitated cancelling two storytelling events that I was really anticipating.
I was not happy.
As we drove down, I felt as though the pieces that were me were not fitting together. Part of that is dreading being down here (although right now we're in Pismo Beach and I could stay here for a good long while ... but we're headed to the San Fernando Valley, which is a completely different story). We're heading into an awful heat wave and dragging Baz and the dogs into it with us.
I got sick. SICK. Sick like I was asking Adam to pull over every fifteen minutes so I could just stand on my feet and lean against the car, breathing in the fresh air.
The last time I was on the Central Coast, I got pregnant. Uh, I think this may be different.
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