I’m off to California today for a three generation girls weekend.  My grandma, mom, and I plan to live it up with pedicures, summer concerts in the park, and even a visit to a, ahem, nightclub.  When I was younger the closest they had to a nightclub was an empty dirt lot where high schoolers gathered over an illegal bonfire and raised our underage toasts to making it to the state football playoffs.  My how things change.

     I love visiting the town I grew up in but it’s odd that it doesn’t feel like home anymore.  I don’t know exactly when that happened.  Probably around the same time that housing prices skyrocketed there and left me searching out a more prosperous future for my family.  That and the fact that it’s grown so much I barely recognize it.

     Still, when I step off the plane and take in that first whiff of salty ocean air I know I’ll breathe a sigh of relief.  And as we drive from the airport to my mom’s house and I see the vineyards that cover the hillsides I’ll no doubt feel a momentary pang of sadness for all that I miss there.  Because even though home isn’t home anymore, a part of my heart remains.

   I’ll be sure to take lots of photos and I’ll bribe my mom and grandma to let me post pictures of them on the internet.  A picture of my Gram in a nightclub would be priceless.  I’ve been assured that the place we are going is not  your typical nightclub but more of an upscale wine bar type place.  And while my Gram is a young Gram (great gram at that), she isn’t much of a drinker, wine or otherwise.  This should be interesting.

     I’ll try to check in with details.  ;)