Go 4 Rest Stop

We left southern California at 9:00 am Sunday morning, after stopping to see my mom at the nursing facility. She was sad to see us go, but knows we will be back in a two weeks to check in on her progress. She's really doing well, although, she is understandably frustrated. At 83, who wants to have to take on this kind of effort and burden? We reassured her that all of her physical therapists say that she has what it takes: strength and vitality, even if she is a bit forlorn about it all.

The only way to drive through LA is at 9:00 on a Sunday morning going 80 mph (128.75 km/h). Everyone else is either in church or at home hungover, either way pulling the blankets over their eyes. Excellent. We were on the other side of LA county by 10:15 and driving along the ocean at Santa Barbara by 11:20. Fast. Safe. Sailing.

We stopped at the first rest area on this stretch of highway. We had a little picnic. We always pack our own food for the road. Sitting at a cement picnic table, the highway sounds came in over our shoulders. We sat. We stared. We said a few words about everything. We stared some more. The wind was blowing the few fallen leaves and the movement caught my eyes. Was there something else? Maybe. Then the little brown head popped through the ground hole.

Hello there, little gopher. Mind if I come over to take a closer look?

Well, yes, as a matter of fact I do, this is as close as you get, lady.