A Wedding in Cambria
I’m burnt to a crisp. The new blanket that we bought to keep warm (because I didn’t pack a sweater, a sweatshirt or a lick of sense) smells like a barbecue chip. I’m tired and I have a sore throat (could be from all the fire pit smoke I inhaled). But I think we just had the best three day wedding extravaganza weekend ever invented.
Cambria is beautiful. I’d never been before. Toby told me the beach community has kind of a snooty snobby pretentious reputation but I didn’t really notice. Sure, there were a lot of weird new age stores selling wind chimes and crystals and hand blown glass humming bird feeders but there was also a big warehouse type restaurant that sold barbecue tri-tip and chicken strips. We didn’t spend that much time on the main drag anyway. It was all about my friend’s beautiful beach wedding and her large entourage of fairy winged flower girls running along the surf squealing with delight.
It was sleeping in clean sheets in a hotel that cost half as much as we’re used to paying. It was orange juice and fruit and coffee and little itty bitty pastries for breakfast. It was an illegal bonfire and strawberry flavored marshmallows in s’mores and flickering candles and sparklers and lounging against a drift wood log with new friends and old while somebody plays old Beatles tunes on their guitar. It was getting up for a “fun run” but then deciding not to run and hanging out under the pine trees listening to the surf and birds you haven’t heard since you were a kid.
We loved Cambria. We didn’t want to leave.