Saturday - Fullerton

Last night before going to bed, Nancy remarked that she did not feel stressed out as she usually does before leaving on a long trip. Michael's first thought was that this time we aren't bringing along any children--but since we haven't been accompanied by children on most of our trips in the past several years, that can't account for the difference. It may be that we are now in the digital age. Although we've never been to New Zealand and therefore have no past experience to guide us, we feel like we have a good idea of what's ahead

because of all the information we've been able to access online. The websites of the various outfitters and attractions we plan to visit in the next four weeks have armed us with gear lists, photos, and narratives about what to expect. And we've really tried to prepare: not only have we made advance reservations and gathered all the necessary gear, but we've been wearing our hiking boots and loaded backpacks around the mall (currently one of the few places in Cincinnati where you can walk ice-free).

All our bags are packed, we're ready to go ...

A bit too early, as it turned out. Michael had asked our good friend and home teacher Rick Koth to take us to the airport and instructed him to show up at 6:20 a.m. Rick is always punctual, so we were on our way by 6:30. Looking at the clock as we pulled onto the freeway, Michael wondered why he had scheduled our arrival at the airport 2.5 hours before the flight was to depart. (This probably won't be the only error on Michael's itinerary that Nancy's editing eye failed to catch, but hopefully any others will have similarly minor consequences.) Michael's first thought on discovering the error was: Darn, we could have slept an extra hour; but then he realized that both he and Nancy were awake well before the alarm went off anyway. Despite their careful preparations, both apparently continue to suffer from the condition Nancy calls "pre-adventure insomnia."

Yesterday, Cincinnati's temperature had risen above freezing for the first time in weeks, so any anxieties we had had about weather delays at the start of our trip literally melted away. After clearing security, Nancy spent the extra hour doing her customary morning walk while Michael stood guard over the baggage. He tried to see if he could bluetooth photos from his Blackberry to his tablet the same way Nancy could send them from her phone. No luck.

When she returned, Michael took his turn for a walk and was surprised to discover that CVG is a much different place on a Saturday morning than on the weekdays when he travels to Boston. One end of the Delta terminal was completely deserted.

Our flight to Los Angeles was booked completely, so Michael had to be content with an aisle seat instead of an exit row. Nancy was seated next to a young woman from Cincinnati who was going with a friend to Los Angeles to celebrate her birthday. (She didn't say which one, but Nancy would guess the 21st or 22nd.) Neither had been to California before. Of the wonderful things to do in Southern California, they seemed most excited about visiting the Ripley's Believe It or Not! Museum--believe it or not.

Our in-flight lunch came from Chick-Fil-A

While Nancy began reading Middlemarch, Michael watched the in-flight movie: Still Mine, about an elderly woman with Alzheimer's and her husband of 60 years; he refused to heed their children's advice to put her into a care facility. When it was over, Michael told Nancy he would recommend the movie for the Empty-Nesters' home evening group.

First stop: Los Angeles
After arriving at LAX and picking up our Thrifty rental car, we drove to Fullerton to spend a few days with Nancy's dad. We couldn't have asked for better weather: sunny with a light breeze, temperatures in the mid-60s, and clear enough to see the San Bernadino mountains from the 91 Freeway.

Fresh corn tortillas make all the difference.

It was lunch time again now that we had entered the Pacific time zone, so we decided to stop at a storefront restaurant in what residents on the other side of Fullerton's railroad tracks used to call "Beantown." The area has gone through considerable gentrification since Nancy's youth--but there's still no better place to find great Mexican food. And great prices, too: enough chicken enchiladas, tacos, rice, beans, chips and salsa to fill both of us up cost only $8.48 at Taqueria La Bamba, including tax.

You'll have to imagine the mariachi music blaring inside and out.
The flatscreen above our table was tuned to Telemundo.

A few more miles across Fullerton took us to Morningside, the resort-like retirement community where Nancy's father has lived for the past five years. Doug had some computer and electronics tasks for Michael, which included fixing his answering machine and taking him to Best Buy to get a wireless router. While Michael was setting that up, Nancy and Doug reviewed some family photos they want to include in Doug's personal history, which they are preparing for publication later this year.

Doug treated us to dinner at SeaFare Inn, a restaurant in Whittier that serves fried clams (one of Massachusetts-bred Doug's favorite repasts). Nancy and Michael shared fresh snapper and swordfish with each other, and then all three shared a plate of hot beignets with vanilla ice cream for dessert. By the time we returned to Doug's apartment at Morningside, it was close to 11 p.m. Eastern time, so Michael and Nancy put sheets on the folding foam mattresses in Doug's studio/second bedroom and got ready for bed.