Inside Out

Hot damn, did she ever knock it out of the park.

When my third-born set out to find a restaurant in San Diego for her birthday dinner that felt interesting, unique, and well, fun, she settled on Inside Out, and let's just say she crushed it.

First, the food. All the bells and whistles mean nothing if a restaurant can't deliver up a delicious meal with a signature cocktail or two thrown into the mix. And Inside Out ticks all those boxes handily.

Service is another non-negotiable. The fleet of purple-polo-clad, leather-harness-wearing male-only servers treat us like the true princesses that we are, and bring exquisite professionalism and just the right amount of sass to their task. 

Now let's talk about ambiance. When I walk in the front door, I see before me a rather typical layout of two-tops running along an elegantly carpeted toward my left. But the host, who greets us instantly, leads us to the right...up a short ramp, past a wall of plants...and out into an eye-popping open air atrium. Water splashes merrily nearby, and a much longer, zig-zagging ramp runs up what I can only describe as a terraced hillside of table tops, filled with happy diners and bedecked with more plants and hundreds of twinkle lights.

I am instantly charmed. 

Alas, our party of five is led not to the ziggurat but to a long, low curving couch tucked in against the atrium side of the aforementioned plant wall and adorned with a series of low, coffee style tables. 

But, but, but, my brain splutters, Where's the table? How are we supposed to eat??

In a spasm of logic, I quickly deduce the answer: This is just like eating at home. You sit on the couch, with your plate on the coffee table or on your lap, and wing it. 

And the impact of this entirely post-Covid approach to dining out struck me as infinitely creative, insidiously clever, and just about the funniest thing I'd ever imagined. 

* * * * * 

We order our drinks, sit and sip, and as my eyes wander across the open space, I see people of all kinds. Skin tones range the gamut, gay couples shine out among the straighties, and the entire restaurant is filled with what I suddenly realize I missed most during the long months of Covid.

Variety!

Surprises!

Differentness!

Thank you, Inside Out, for not just a distinctive birthday dinner and an invigorating evening, but for re-introducing to me the rich texture of life, for literally turning my quarantined soul inside out to face the world once again.

^ A handful of cocktails flow to our table, each one prettier than the next and much glass-passing is done as we sample and savor them all. I'm tempted to devour all the garnishes - so fresh and pretty.

  

^ I opt for grilled Atlantic salmon with warm German-style potato salad and a few green beans tucked in for good measure. Honestly, I would been satisfied with just the fish topped with the whole grain mustard cream sauce, but you better believe I ate every morsel. 

^ The birthday girl chooses a grilled double cut pork chop, with sour cherry mostardo and caramelized onion, resting on collard greens, and the meal is easily bigger than she is. How she ate it all, I'll never know. But she did. 

^ My fourth-born, ever the grazer, elects for a charcuterie and feasts upon delicious meats and cheeses. She is particularly smitten with the lavender honey, and insists that I sample some as well. Upon my first bite, I rip my phone out of my purse and order a bottle of lavender extract on the spot so we can replicate this nectar at home. True story.

^ Down at the far end of the couch, the elder sisters partake in another plate of the salmon (left), and spring lamb ragout (right) with pappardelle pasta, arugula, and mint pesto. 

^ During our meal, the evening sky above us slowly darkens, and a kaleidoscope of lights bring new life to our space. Energetic tunes bump in the background, and I find myself calling down the couch so all my daughters can hear, "Let's go find a club!"

I am kidding. Kind of. 

But at this exact moment, a random waiter is strutting by. Abruptly, he slams on his brakes and whirls to face me.

"Did you just say you want to go to a club?"

I sheepishly confirm.

Scanning our faces up and down the couch, he double-checks his thinking. "You're the mom, right?"

I confirm this fact as well. 

"Dang," he says with a wistful smile, "I wish my mom would ask me to go out to a club with her. That would be amazing."

"You should ask her sometime," I encourage him. "She might say yes."

And I hope he does.

Because after our adventure at Inside Out, I believe once again that life is full of surprises and when we allow ourselves to turn inside out, absolutely anything is possible. 

* * * * * 

Come celebrate San Diego with me and my daughters as 

we break out into our first post-Covid road trip!

Southbound To San Diego

Coffee, Tea, Or Perhaps A Blooming Bougainvillea?

La Jolla Los Dos

Take Me Out To The Padres

On (A) Mission Beach

Inside Out

To Zoo Or Not To Zoo

Their Best Lives

Balboa Park On A Lark

#IYKYK

The End

On (A) Mission Beach

It's a well-documented fact that I'm a lady who loves the beach. And because I'm lucky enough to live where I do, I enjoy many opportunities to go to the beach.

The Pacific Northwest beach, that is.

Where endless heaps of gigantic beach logs and acres of flat stones are the norm, and smooth expanses of dry sand are a rare commodity indeed.

Where year-round attire features polar fleece. Even over your swim suit.

Where the pale sun and brisk winds combine to put sunbathers at risk of not so much sunburn as hypothermia.

Where I have often huddled in my hoodie, wrapped up in a beach towel, and dreamed of lying out on a warm, golden-toned Socal beach where people can actually go into the water without freezing, and the sun shines down in beneficent splendor. 

At last, my day has finally come. 

^ Tricked out with my Mexican blankets* - the ultimate in sunbathing comfort - and my nifty beach shade**, I head off with my daughters to spend the day lollygagging in the sun at Mission Beach.

^ I am beyond excited as we stake our claim on a few square feet of California sand; I'm also bit surprised to find that the sand isn't more yellowy gold. Hmm, the color isn't all that different from our PNW grey stuff.

^ I revel in the bright blue sky, although honestly, the clouds keep rolling in and the sun is almost as elusive as up north.

^ The waves that tickle my toes are surprisingly chilly. Granted, I am expecting bath water and even though I'm no sissy, the classic gasp of a polar bear swim club team member escapes my lips when the first wave laps against my ankles. 

The water is almost as cold as at home. 

^ But no matter. My sun shelter cheerily offers its shady sanctuary as we spread ourselves across the blankets, nibble on a carefully cultivated selection our favorite beach snacks***, and flip through a few chapters of a good book****. 

The hours slide by, and we revel in the bliss. 

Soon enough, the time comes to pack up and head out. Happily, with all my San Diego beach day expectations boxes ticked, I'm walking back to the car when an interesting thought comes unbidden into my brain.

Mission Beach is a delight, and I'm so glad I successfully completed my mission to visit a proper Southern California beach. But maybe it's not so different from my beloved Washington beaches after all. 

* * * * *

Footnotes:

* I buy my Mexican blankets from Gunn & Swain; they're expensive, to be sure, but oh, so luxuriously thick and soft to the touch. 

** We first used our beach shade (similar) back in 2017 when we ventured off to the middle of Wyoming to view the solar eclipse. Ever since then, I swear it glows with magical properties. 

*** Dried apricots, strawberry licorice, and baked cheese crunchies, all from Trader Joe's, washed down with tap water from a Nalgene bottle. 

**** Rocket Men by Robert Kurson tells the story of Apollo 8, the first flight to break the bonds of earth and successfully orbit the moon. Those men successfully completed their mission too. 

* * * * * 

Come celebrate San Diego with me and my daughters as 

we break out into our first post-Covid road trip!

Southbound To San Diego

Coffee, Tea, Or Perhaps A Blooming Bougainvillea?

La Jolla Los Dos

Take Me Out To The Padres

On (A) Mission Beach

Inside Out

To Zoo Or Not To Zoo

Their Best Lives

Balboa Park On A Lark

#IYKYK

The End

Take Me Out To The Padres

My third-born, back in April: Hey, should we go to a baseball game while we're in San Diego?

The rest of us: Definitely. Will the Padres be in town while we're there?

My third-born: I have no idea but I'll look into it. Do you want me to get back to you with the teams and the dates so we can figure out the best game, or should I just wing it?

The rest of us: Wing it.

* * * * *

And that's how my daughters and I lucked into one of the hottest games of baseball that I've ever enjoyed.

Petco Park is a silly name but a lovely venue for a festive night of baseball. 

The red-hot hometown Padres have already taken the first two games from the cross-state uber-rival Los Angeles Dodgers in this three-game midweek series, and we roll in to the final game to find an ecstatic, electrified full-capacity crowd already hollering to save their souls before the first pitch is even thrown. 

BEAT! L! A! 

BEAT! L! A! 

BEAT! L! A! 

There are plenty of LA fans representing too, and the cacophony of chants and cross-chants is delightfully deafening. Everyone's wearing swag for one team or the other, and every third ten-year-old boy is sporting a (fake) swag chain, just like the big boys wear. 

A quick scan of the Padres' line up brings more good news: shortstop Fernando Tatis Jr. who has recently been day to day after a recurring shoulder injury, is slated to start. Yay!

But ultimately it's third baseman Manny Machado's smoking bat that steals the show, and after a see-sawing score that keeps the Dodgers within striking distance, the Padres win the game and sweep the series. Insanity reigns. 

SWEEP! L! A!

SWEEP! L! A!

SWEEP! L! A!

We are swept away in the boisterous crowd, still bawling and bellowing with delight, as we flow down the walkways, under the swaying palms, and out into the cool California night. 

Tatis is getting some at bats, the Padres are playing their weird shifted defense, 

the sunset is peak, and all is right in my world. 

Oh, it's a fine night for baseball in San Diego. 

* * * * * 

Come celebrate San Diego with me and my daughters as 

we break out into our first post-Covid road trip!

Southbound To San Diego

Coffee, Tea, Or Perhaps A Blooming Bougainvillea?

La Jolla Los Dos

Take Me Out To The Padres

On (A) Mission Beach

Inside Out

To Zoo Or Not To Zoo

Their Best Lives

Balboa Park On A Lark

#IYKYK

The End

La Jolla Los Dos

The summer after my freshman year of college, I paid my first visit to San Diego.  Flying alone for the very first time, I hopped from Detroit Metro to St. Louis to LAX to San Diego - on a series of red eyes, no less - to visit my high school bestie, Lisa. After completing this nerve-wracking voyage and sending my host off to work for the day, I decided to entertain myself by sunbathing at Pacific Beach.

This was a terrible idea.

Because almost immediately after laying out my towel and settling down on the sand, I fell fast asleep.

Did I mention that the year was 1977, when a SPF of 4 was considered a high degree of protection?

I got the worst sunburn of my life. 

For the next three days, I lay in Lisa's darkened apartment - I could not tolerate even a slice of sunshine sliding in between the curtains - with cold wet washcloths draped over every inch of my agonizingly red skin. My face was the worst; blisters swelled my eyes shut and for several days, I peered out from tiny slits. 

Sadly, I lost about half of my vacation to recovery.

But once I was able to stand and submit to some sunshine on my poor battered body, Lisa took me to La Jolla. All the years from then till now, I've carried a highly specific memory of that place - high cliffs of stratified rock with a deep inlet where waves crash and tumble in sound and fury.

Though honestly, I've often wondered how accurate those decades-old impressions might be, considering the state of my poor fried brain. Every memory I made after the sunburn lives in a haze of unreality, and I wouldn't doubt that reality is a far cry from my singed perceptions. 

So it is with great excitement that I greet my third-born's decision to make La Jolla the first stop on our San Diego sight-seeing itinerary, and with great curiosity that I set out to resolve the mystery of my La Jolla memories. 

^ Stashing our car and heading toward the water, we come across the cozy, quaint beach of La Jolla Cove. Human swimmers are out in full force on this gentle June day, as are a variety of kooky looking sea birds - pelicans are truly freakish - and of course, the charming and ineffable California sea lions. 

^ With a quick pivot from our viewpoint toward the swimming beach, we find sweeping vistas of the rocky coast running north. Beautiful scenes on either side, for sure, but nothing looks familiar. 

^ Round about the 1990s, marine mammals discovered (reclaimed?) these idyllic waters and ideal beaches for themselves, and quickly established their communal lives here. Thanks to my daughters' pinniped-loving science teacher, I'd had prior knowledge of these amusing immigrants so even though I don't recall them from my first visit, I'm not surprised to find them here. 

^ Side note: I'm always a sucker for wildflowers in portrait mode. 

^We wander along the bluff for several hours, stopping for long pauses to watch the sea lions' antics:

listening to the males bellow nonstop, 

delighting in the incredible numbers of newborn pups, 

feeling our hearts swell as mothers return from the water and climb back up the rocks to reunite with their precious babes. 

We find them to be endlessly entertaining, and somehow reminiscent of our own beloved Gracie. 

 ^ Soon enough, it's time for lunch and we hike up to Prospect Street to seek out some food.

^ Tacos, it is. After a bit of wandering, we stumble upon Raymundo's and judging by the unassuming exterior, orange plastic trays, and genuine Mexican Cokes in the cooler, we know we've come to the right place. My fish tacos are deliciously on point. 

* * * * *

Well sated and properly re-energized, we stroll back toward the beach and take in a few hundred more sea lions. As we wind our way back toward the car, we stray a bit farther to the north. 

That's when I notice stairs and a walkway that lead out onto a rocky promontory. My daughters have had enough, but something tells me that I need to go out and take in that view. 

And I'm so glad that I do.

^ This is it!

This is exactly the view I remember from 1977, as my swollen eyes strained against the sun and my scorched body listened with deep satisfaction as the waves -  the cool, wet, soothing waves - crashed against the steadfast rocks. 

Every inch of this scene is exactly as I remember from before, and I feel my past La Jolla and my present La Jolla flow together as one wave spends itself and then falls back into the next.

I am at peace. 

* * * * * 

Come celebrate San Diego with me and my daughters as 

we break out into our first post-Covid road trip!

Southbound To San Diego

Coffee, Tea, Or Perhaps A Blooming Bougainvillea?

La Jolla Los Dos

Take Me Out To The Padres

On (A) Mission Beach

Inside Out

To Zoo Or Not To Zoo

Their Best Lives

Balboa Park On A Lark

#IYKYK

The End

Coffee, Tea, Or Perhaps A Blooming Bougainvillea?

First stop on the first morning of our first day in San Diego: a coffee shop.

My daughters, like the nice, normal people that they are, love to start their day with a cup of java and a bite to eat, so off we go to the charming Communal Coffee in the North Park neighborhood for a yummy and gorgeous breakfast. Sadly, I am not a coffee drinker and prefer to wait till after noon for the first meal of my day. But this is vacation and I have no desire to be a party pooper so I suck it up and order myself a perfectly lovely pesto heirloom tomato sandwich. 

Number of photos I take at breakfast: zero. 

As we sip and sup on the sunny outdoor patio, we notice that right next door - within an arm's reach, actually - lives an adorable nursery. A plan is quickly made to wander through the plants after breakfast, and in my excitement, I gulp down the rest of my sandwich as fast as I can.

Number of photos I take at the nursery: 35.

Here are a few of my favorites:

^ This pallet garden looks like the ones I have at home, but is cleverly engineered to hold the plants much more securely than mine does. I'm suddenly on a mission to reconfigure mine - perhaps in a double tall style like this one? - and take a number of photos for future reference. 

^ As I breathe in the zen of this lovely moment, I feel some deja vu creep in. Last year, we used cedar planks from our old fence to build planting beds on wheels; this design is very similar to ours, with the addition of the trim pieces running horizontally along the top and bottom. Not sure if I will add that detail to ours, but I definitely want to remember this construction as well as the peaceful moment. 

^ Shade sails. For at least ten years, I've dreamed of adding some to my backyard; I love how they filter the sun, fill the space overhead with delightful geometry, all while making me feel like I'm zipping across a lake on a sailboat. I've come close to pulling the trigger but you know what stops me? Sunshine is so precious in the PNW that the idea of actually blocking out even a single ray of the golden delight seems like sacrilege. Guess I will ponder this idea a little longer.

^ I'll be honest: bougainvillea makes my heart beat fast and my eyes spin in circles. Seriously, there is a part of me that wants to lie down and cry whenever I see these gorgeous explosions of color and realize that they just won't grow where I live. But my green front door is so close in color to this green door and those blazing orangey-pinky-scarlet tones look so perfect in contrast that I instantly begin to scheme ways to bring a similar riot of complementary color to my own front porch.

* * * * *

We return to the car, fiddle with the GPS, and launch off in pursuit of our first full-fledged adventure, ready to see what fair San Diego can offer us. But I've already settled on one inescapable truth. 

Coffee and tea may not be for me, but plants always set my mind on fire. 

* * * * * 

Come celebrate San Diego with me and my daughters as 

we break out into our first post-Covid road trip!

Southbound To San Diego

Coffee, Tea, Or Perhaps A Blooming Bougainvillea?

La Jolla Los Dos

Take Me Out To The Padres

On (A) Mission Beach

Inside Out

To Zoo Or Not To Zoo

Their Best Lives

Balboa Park On A Lark

#IYKYK

The End

Southbound To San Diego

Fun fact: this is another year for a Streicher daughter milestone birthday - this time it's my third-born's turn - and you know what that means. The ladies of the family (minus Gracie) took off on a special adventure, planned by the birthday princess du jour.

For their special trips, daughters One and Two both opted for a seaside resort in Mexico. But there's no lounging about the pool in Cabo for my third-born woman of action. 

This time, we are road-tripping to San Diego.

It's a familiar, if not necessarily easy, two-day's drive down Interstate 5 to San Diego. Up here in Washington, we call that "Eye Five" but in Socal we know better and say it like the locals: "The 5." Either way, this major west coast asphalt artery reads like a scenic photo book and a family scrapbook: rivers, mountains, barren desert, and endless miles of almond orchards provide not only gorgeous scenery but countless stories of "Remember that time we...". Flowing 1285 miles through Seattle, Portland, Sacramento, and of course, LA, we break the trip into two days with an overnight in Redding, California and savor the journey.

Here are a handful of the highlights of our two-day southbound trip to San Diego.

Santiam River Southbound Rest Area - south of Salem, Oregon

^ Streicher Family Road Trip Tradition calls for picnic lunches at interstate rest areas, grazing from the rich assortment of delicacies packed into our intrepid cooler and a couple of grocery bags. Ham, summer sausage, salami, sharp cheddar and crowd-pleasing Laughing Cow cheese spread work for building sandwiches, heaping on crackers, or you know, just eating with your fingers. Cherries, watermelon, and red grapes were prepped at home and now ready for noshing. And no one ever said no to a few crunchy snacks or sweet treats to finish off the feast in fine style.  

Mount Shasta - elevation 14,179 feet.

^ Driving from Seattle to central Oregon is mostly a piece of geographic cake, with the relatively straight route meandering over gently rolling terrain. Things begin to get interesting south of Eugene, where the interstate loops, climbs, drops, and weaves through the tightly twisting Cascade foothills. But it's just north of the border with California where we haul ourselves up the maniacally steep grade to the Siskiyou Summit and zoom across the high mountain plains for an hour or two with panoramic views of this volcanic mountain beauty. It's an exhilarating stretch of highway and even though I've driven it at least 20 times in my life, it never gets old. 

The In-N-Out Double Double served protein style aka wrapped in iceberg lettuce. A bun-less cheeseburger may seem like diet culture gone wrong, but I say don't knock it till you've tried it. 

^ There was a time, not too long ago, when the northernmost store in the In-N-Out chain was this one on Dana Drive in Redding, CA. That's why, one summer night in 2007, I loaded up a van full of teenagers and drove there - straight through from Mukilteo. We each ate a Double Double, marveled at their majesty, then got back in the van and drove home. Yes, we did. Nowadays, the franchise has crept closer to home with several stores up the road in Oregon, but this one on Dana Drive will always be my favorite. 

Sunset in Redding, California - from the In-N-Out parking lot

^ Our traditional overnight stop en route to Southern California is Redding, which is almost precisely half way to San Diego. Even though we are still a long way from the Hollywood Hills, Redding sports a nice collection of palm trees, and when I can find them silhouetted against a glowing sunset, I get all the happy Socal feels. 

My phone attributes the location of this photo to Los Banos, California. Lol. 

^ The morning of Day Two finds us humming along through the Central Valley, where for many miles we drive past untold acres of happily irrigated fields full of food. Abruptly, somewhere south of Stockton the landscape turns barren and we stare at wild, windswept, utterly barren hills. It's a chilling reminder of our earth's fragile fertility, and as always, I feel a bit overwhelmed by this oppressive and over-baked scenery.

 In-N-Out in San Diego on Camino Del Este, near the junction of the 8 and the 805. 

Just down the hill from our Airbnb.

^ After the long, hot slog through Central California, we climb the hills south of Bakersfield and settle back into our seats. We've officially arrived in the LA Basin and while the scenery gets much more interesting, I'm behind the wheel and in no place to record any photos. Winding passes, heavy traffic, a bazillion required lane changes, and outrageously aggressive drivers keep my mind sharply focused until we finally roll into San Diego just after 8 pm, the perfect time for another round of In-N-Out.

Always neat. Always friendly. Always working hard.

^ I'm a huge fan of the food at In-N-Out. But I'm also fascinated with their consistently amazing workers, who seem always to be the epitome of first class burger operators. Seriously, I would like to meet the person in charge of training at In-N-Out because every single person seems to know exactly what to do, and how to do it well, and with a staff as young as these restaurants typically employ, that is no small feat. Also I adore their uniforms - women wear red caps and crisp white shirts with daintily puffed sleeves; gents sport soda-jerk style paper caps and classically tailored shirts. But everyone gets to wear my personal favorite: the red rectangular apron, wrapped snugly around the waist and secured in back with a colossal shiny steel apron pin. 

* * * * *

With our delicious burgers in our bellies, we straggleback to the car for a quick trip up Texas Street to our happy little home away from home. After a thorough inspection and prolonged negotiations about bedroom assignments, we all crash under our covers, ready for a good night's sleep and the San Diego adventures awaiting us in the morning. 

* * * * * 

Come celebrate San Diego with me and my daughters as 

we break out into our first post-Covid road trip!

Southbound To San Diego

Coffee, Tea, Or Perhaps A Blooming Bougainvillea?

La Jolla Los Dos

Take Me Out To The Padres

On (A) Mission Beach

Inside Out

To Zoo Or Not To Zoo

Their Best Lives

Balboa Park On A Lark

#IYKYK

The End

Summer Holidays At Home

^ Thank goodness, the evil Heat Done is no longer cooking us alive, but perfect blue Seattle summer skies are still shining down upon us. 

^ Holidays pose no exceptions to Gracie’s and my walking routine, except that a goodly portion of our neighbors have headed out of town so we enjoy the unusually quiet streets. 

^ “Lay down your phone, woman, and fetch me my supper!”

^ Speaking of supper, I served up burgers, potato salad, baked beans, watermelon, and cherries, a feast of which our Founding Fathers would surely approve. 

Growing up, my family never went out of town for the Fourth of July. 

The Fourth of July came to us. 

So it was for those of us lucky enough to grow up on a lake. Every summer weekend meant carloads of people coming out from the cities - Detroit  and Ann Arbor - to enjoy lake life with us locals. We all lived for those long, lazy days of swimming, boating, and lollygagging around on the dock while watching the endless flow of other folks out on the water doing the very same thing. 

Of course, from breakfast till sundown, we lived in our swim suits. We were in and out of the water all day long, and even a simple shirt or a pair of shorts were too much to manage as we often hopped into the lake at one place and came out a few hours later, water logged and ravenously hungry, at another.  Lunch and dinner were often cooked on the grill and served outside, or at least plates were fixed indoors and carried outside because no one needed a bunch of kids in wet suits dripping all over the house. 

After dark, entertainment shifted from water to fire. Bonfires built along the beach lit up the dark nestled between the cottages and out across the water; we gathered round the fire to talk and laugh and watch each other’s smiles glow in the shadowy flickers of the flames. 

The Fourth of July simply brought these usual summertime lake vibes to a fever pitch, and as the back yards swelled with extra cars full of far-flung friends and family members longing for a respite from the city, we full-time lake people just smiled and welcomed them to the party. 

Honestly, why would we leave this paradise to go celebrate anywhere else? 

* * * * *

These memories flickered through my mind today as my family and I spent yet another Fourth of July happily ensconced here at Streicher Acres. Granted, I no longer have a lake at my front door. But I still enjoy long, lazy summer days with my best source of water, the garden hose. And you better believe I wear my swim suit all day long 

And just as I learned so long ago, the best pleasures in life are sometimes the ones right in front of you. No need to run off in search of rest and relaxation on a sunny Fourth of July weekend; I’m always happy to enjoy my summer holidays here at home.