We went to a monarch butterfly sanctuary in Pacific Grove. It's along the butterfly's migration track, so it's kind of like a giant Pilot Travel Center, and by late November, the trees are just covered with them. The early ones were already starting to scope out the area when we got there. In the pregnancy-loss world, lost babies are called Butterfly Babies, and we had fun trying to pick out which one was Baby T. We think we caught him showing off his flapping skills here.
I took pictures of the ocean and hummed Enya's "Caribbean Blue" over and over, much to the chagrin of my husband.
And the waves.
While J showed off his rock-climbing abilities. His neck is still intact.
And we watched it get dark over Monterey Bay while eating Pinkberry. The 30 Day Sugar Detox is over, but it was the first dessert type of food I've had since September 16. Crazy.
So today my mom left on a group tour of Scotland. She parked in the shopping center where everyone was meeting to get on the bus to the airport, and promptly locked her keys in the car, along with all her bags. Being prone to panic (it's where I got it from) she decided the best option would be to break her window, so that she wouldn't have to make the bus wait for her. Never mind that she is in Pennsylvania, where a massive hurricane is set to arrive early next week. Nope, she thinks it's a good idea to take a hammer to that sucker, and break her window. Only thing is, the window doesn't break, despite the fact that she has biceps molded by years of working at UPS. Eventually the tour operator saw the commotion, came over to see what was going on, and called triple A, who got her keys. But the whole episode made J think of this funny local news video. Breaking into a car is harder than it looks, I guess. This has the bonus of being a funny bit of local news, as well as an informational instructional video.