Ocean Foam and Frittata

Early this morning we drove to Laguna Beach. First item on our agenda was breakfast near the waves. So we went to Laguna Village where this photo was captured.

When we began dieting last July, we learned to order poached eggs, wheat toast--no butter, and fresh fruit when we are in a restaurant. So this morning when I read on the menu "Spanish Frittata" seasoned with fresh onions, garlic, chili, house salsa, and cheese, I caved-in to the temptation. I looked at Mr. Fun and said, "Do you mind, I'm going to order the Frittata?"

"Oh, get it!" he said with enthusiasm.

We were in Laguna, AGAIN, because yesterday my iPod that we had just retreived Thursday afternoon from the Laguna repair place was malfunctioning.

We phoned the repair place yesterday and they said, "Hey, mail it or bring it to us."

We have one of their postage-paid padded envelopes, but we decided that it was a great excuse to make another trip to Laguna. The tech guys open their shop at 10 a.m. so we planned to have an early beach breakfast and then get to the repair shop. The iPod now has every possible component replaced and works like a champ. It also has a 90 day guarantee.

So that's our excuse for dining near the ocean this morning.


"The Frittata Story"

It is interesting how a word, a phrase, a song, a fragrance, or a menu item can usher in a memory.

As we ate breakfast this morning, the two of us talked about a "frittata" from our past. I got all choked-up and had my heart in my throat as I spoke.

I think it was summer of 1990 -- we had planned a 4-week summer journey to take our tandem bicycle to the Gulf Islands off the coast of British Columbia. Mr. Fun had jumped back into his teenage life of ten-speed bicycles and riding for miles, and he planned this "boyhood adventure." I've always tried to be "game" for whatever he wants to do (that's not always the best logic and doesn't always have the best results). But hey, I had ridden our bicycle with him from San Francisco to home in southern California, and 2 years later from Eugene, Oregon to the coast and then to San Francisco. So we had bicycle experience. What I've since learned is that every bicycle ride with Mr. Fun is an adventure.

So back in 1990 we were going to park the car in Port Angeles, but we discovered the ferry could transport what seemed like half a city and we decided to take the car and unload the bicycle at each island destination and pedal. So we ferried across to Victoria to stay several nights. Then the next ferry ride took us to Salt Spring Island. We soon discovered that the Gulf Islands are so thick with foliage that the road could be just a few yards from the water's edge, but we couldn't even see the edge, and worse than that, the roads have no shoulder to ride a bicycle. That made pedaling more than exciting (to say the least) with all the tourists in their cars and rented RVs.

So we had planned to stay at a lovely B & B on Salt Spring Island for several nights and we pedaled the less traveled roads on that island; then rode the ferry to Mayne Island where Mr. Fun had rented a little cabin complete with a kitchen. Mayne was less crowded and pedaling was a little better. We were there 4 or 5 nights. We took a day trip in the car, with bicycle, over to Pender Island to take a look and discovered more of the same -- thick foliage and narrow shoulderless roads.

When our time at Mayne Island ended, our next destination was Galiano Island where he had reserved a couple nights at a B & B. We arrived on that island to discover the roads were narrower and the trees thicker. The region was experiencing a heat wave. Humidity was less than pleasant. Good attitudes were wearing thin. We drove to a little pub to discuss our options. I asked if he'd take me to an airport so I could fly home. He could stay and pedal until his heart was content and then come home. He didn't want to stay without me and have "no fun." That was the exact moment that I understood a math concept that had always escaped me -- two times zero is zero! I always thought that if I had two apples times zero, I still had two apples. So for once I understood multiplying by zero. Two people times no fun . . . is still no fun!

What were we to do? Huge dilemma! That evening at the last minute we took the final ferry off the island to the city of Vancouver. We found the closest motel to the ferry dock and spent the night. We were not happy!

The next morning we were neither one is a good mood (can you imagine). I don't remember what was said or why, but we were soon not speaking and the mood in the car was thick and ugly. We drove for hours--no breakfast, no lunch, no conversation. At about 3 o'clock that afternoon we found ourselves on the Hood Canal in a place called Union, Washington. It was a dot on the map. We stopped at a hotel/restaurant called Alderbrook to use their facilities. When he exited the men's room and asked if I'd like to get something to eat, of course I said, "Yes!"

We were seated in the restaurant and learned breakfast was served all day. Mr. Fun ordered a frittata. The first one he'd ever had. During the meal, our hard-edged attitudes melted into a puddle of softeness, forgiveness, apologizes, make-up, and "a let's get this vacation back on the right track."

After eating we walked out onto the narrow boat dock. The tide was very low and the ducks quaked at us. Mr. Fun asked if I like to spend the night there if he could get us a room. So we spent 2 nights enjoying the canal and forgetting the islands.

This many years later, the word "frittata" instantly transports us both to that vacation moment . . . to the thought of "vacation rhetoric" and how things aren't always as they appear in the travel ads (or any other ads for that matter).

Our ipod is now working and the frittata is long gone, but both sparked a day laced with music and memories. We hope it's been a good day for you.


Good night from Southern California.
Rosie (& Mr. Fun), aka Carol