I’m probably not giving away very much by revealing that these photos are not from Iowa, that they’re in fact as far from present-day Iowa as it is possible to get. Holy fresh-made guacamole, what a great thing to spend an abbreviated week in southern California before flying back to the frozen tundra. Five days of nothing but margaritas, nachos by the plateful, cotton not wool, and sun that only has to warm your forearms, not melt snow.
And Oh, the places we go when our car tires aren’t caked with snow. We visit sunny spots like the beautiful San Juan Capistrano Mission and Disneyland, and zip up to eggy brunches in Westwood. Best of all, we climb the bluffs of Billy’s hilly home town and get ocean-sized sunsets like this one. Did you now these things happen every night? I swear it’s true.
Iowa’s a lot more cool-toned, literally. On the jet bridge at the Cedar Rapids airport, I could see my breath. The snow on our car mats was still there. In snow form. The car need a new, not-frozen battery (of hilarious note: on the phone with my mom this morning, I said we got a new engine. I really do know more about cars than that.) And this morning I managed to wedge the car pretty terrifically into a snowbank on our driveway. Two hours, two shovels, a broom, heave-ho’s, and piles of rice (for traction) later, Jill and I had successfully extricated it. On the plus side, our amount of usable driveway has expanded by a foot.
Clearly, the thing to do is stay inside and make blondies instead.
The recipe’s from here, of course; I threw in a handful of toasted chopped pecans and chocolate chips. So easy, and such good consolation for an eighty-degree drop in temperatures.