So, corporate HQ is making a worldwide tour of company deployment sites, in concert with holiday parties and presents to exceptional employees and such. Your host had wild notions of maybe renting a Cessna 172 for to transport his bride and hisself unto Camarillo, renting a car, dining with the co-workers and spending the night. ‘Twas to be a brave notion of demonstrating the subtleties of navigating the Los Angeles Class B airspace using a tower-to-tower clearance maybe, but Gaia gets her vote: A forty knot windshear was forecast at 1500 feet at the time of his arrival, which made the notion of lowering a mere toy like the Skyhawk – which crosses the fence at maybe 80 knots – problematical. Then there were clouds, rain and the undesirable prospect of carrying some icing.
Weekend commutes through LA via the 405 are merely objectionable rather than soul-destroying, and we made good enough time in the M5 – which devours highway miles as efficiently as it does premium gas – to take the 10 north of LA over to Santa Monica, working our way up the scenic coast highway through Malibu and around Point Mugu into Ventura County. It was with a bit of trepidation that I gazed into my beloved’s face as we turned the corner and entered the agricultural regions surrounding my new home base. We’ve been 10 years in Sandy Eggo, and Ventura County, well: It’s nae Sandy Eggo.
She’s a trooper though, always has been or else none of this would have worked out, 29 years and seven deployments later, not to mention the greater and lesser dramas along the way. If her heart was dying inside her at the prospect of doing it the remote, never a trace of it made it to her eyes. And it really is lovely country, seen through the right lenses. Your host is cautiously optimistic.
Christmas dinner – there, I said it! – was lovely, really. Cocktails at 1800, for which we were fashionably late, and pleasant conversation until 2200. Speeches were made of gratitude and respect, fond hopes were expressed for corporate growth. We gave our thanks and headed back to lodgings.
Today we head into Oxnard Beach for to break our fast at a funky little cafe whose existence was revealed to me by an occasional reader with knowledge of the area. Then we poke around a bit to get a feel for the land’s lay. Where suitable housing may yet be found for our eventual domestic establishment, should ever the Crushing Burden of Debt be lifted from our shoulders. Which we’re in negotiations, so there’s that.
Then! The outlet mall, for some last minute stocking stuffers. And then back down to Sandy Eggo, to see what a 17-year old daughter with the keys to the house on Christmas break an no parental oversight might have made of her newfound liberties, and whether the police were called, at all.
Apart from these small things, that will make our day.
Chat amongst yourselves, I do beg.