Pt. 3: If it’s Tuesday, it must be Brussels

My, how time flies when you’re having fun. Where was I. Oh, Orange County, surprising Mom for her (unspecified two digit number, divisible by ten)^th birthday.

So the next day, which was Tuesday, dawned, and what did I do? I went for a six mile run with my fabulous studly sister-in-law. And then we all piled into her car and went down to the Stone Brewing Company down in Escondido for lunch and – for some of us, but not me – beer. (Hate the stuff.) (I know, I know, I’ve tried – I just can’t do it. The only bizarre bitter beverage I like is coffee.)

This is a fabulous place with gorgeous architecture, featuring large boulders scattered here and there, indoors and out.

We ate outside right next to one such boulder, and immediately commenced to stuffing as much food as possible down our gullets, as we typically do when we’re all together.

And then we went for a walk around the gardens, where I made the acquaintance of these guys:

A snail.

Hello!

Look at that face! Am I just anthropomorphizing here, or is he looking at me as intently as I’m looking at him?

The grounds were fantastic – boulders arranged into benches and walkways and seats; a couple of waterfalls…what’s not to love about this?  

  This guy came in and posed for me about five times, and I just could NOT get focused on him. He’s like the bi-plane of dragonflies.

I have a turtle fetish, have I mentioned this? Only after I looked at the picture did I see how the one on top had his head turned toward me.

Because I am such a spoiled brat (and one who is severely prone to motion sickness) I called shotgun on the way back. Yes, that’s five adults, wedged into a Prius. Surprisingly comfy. Isn’t Mom a good sport, smushed in the middle like that?