i'd rather be dead in california than alive in arizona

Last month, I had the especial privilege of visiting the cutie cute and mega smart Rachie Pie in northern California for a fun 4th of July weekend.  RP and I met during our junior years at BYU when we lived in the French foreign language housing together, writing research papers about birthing techniques in the Middle Ages and Thomas Pynchon, attempting measly silly pranks on the French boys across the way, and surreptitiously creating a gallery wall of hot men on the inside of our bathroom door.

And now look at us!





RP is partway through her English doctoral program at Stanford, and after bopping around for four years in AZ, going to pastry school and biding my time, I'm finally thinking about joining her up there to study European History.  How the times have (not) changed.

Even though we hadn't seen each other since 2014, Rachel and I have stayed in touch via texts, phone calls, and ridiculously amazing birthday present packages.  Despite the distance, reconnecting in person feels like we're picking up exactly where we left off.  (I don't mean to wax romantic about her, but she's seriously the best and has the most impressive vocabulary and let's me talk about the original Siamese twins in public without being embarrassed and has one of wittiest wits of them all.)

I'd been out to visit RP once since she moved to the Bay area, so this trip wasn't quite as focused on visiting all the touristy areas.  But, indulging our penchant for the kind of creepy, we did visit Azkaban Alcatraz, which was fascinating.

**WORD TO THE WISE: no matter what time of year (yes, even if it's summer) PLEASE bring a jacket because you will freeze to death in the wind on the boat and in the wind on the island.  I know this from personal experience and am writing this blog post from beyond the grave.

"It looks like Alcatraz has got me licked."  -- Al Capone

"Alcatraz was never no good for nobody." -- Frank Weatherman

We toured the prison, located a little over a mile from the mainland, stepping into the 5' x 7' x 9' cells that wouldn't have even been big enough for my queen-sized bed.  As we were all engaged in the audio tour, given by former inmates and guards of the prison, we were abruptly jerked back to reality when a particularly theatrical Johnny Depp look-alike park ranger began shouting historical facts about the prison and sonorously inquiring from his second-level cell block perch, "IS THIS THE SOUND OF SAFETY???" as he loudly slid open the cell doors in unison and then slammed them shut, the mechanical finality of it all echoing menacingly in the concrete room.

Um, yes?? Not like anyone was going to disagree with him.

Also of note: the prison did not have a gas chamber but the cafeteria was nicknamed "the gas chamber" for the containers of tear gas mounted around the perimeter of the room near the ceiling, a fail-safe in the event of a kerfuffle from the inmates.  So...you decide.

The last time I went to visit RP in San Francisco, I jotted down in my phone: "Went 5 days without watching any Friday Night Lights, and it was totally worth it.  Friday we ate mostly bread.  Saturday we ate mostly dessert.  Sunday we ate mostly pizza." Yeah, close to accurate for this trip as well.

Rachel humored me with a quick stop to Boudin bakery again so I could rhapsodize about the yeasty sourdough smell outside the store and purchase another little turtle-shaped bread snack.  She also followed me to Miette and Chantal Guillon for adorable cupcakes and inventive macarons.

We also did as all tourists do and visited the Painted Ladies.



Whoops, not that one.  These ones, where a (probably Mormon) just barely-engaged couple asked me to take pictures of them from behind, "gazing off into the distance" (their words, not mine).

One of my favorite parts of the trip was visiting the Sutro Bath ruins, all that remains of a public indoor swimming complex built in the late 1800's, which later burned down in 1966.  The ruins appear deceptively older than they actually are, but it was still fun to explore.  The dusky sky was overcast and cloudy, the climate cool and breezy, the water frothy and roiling, crashing up against the rocks below.  All of it felt so brooding and, well, romantic (in the literary sense).

Sunday morning, as Rachel made us waffles with caramel syrup and fresh whipped cream, she thought about how, even though it was early, she was excited about her Halloween costume and wanted to tell me about it.  But then she got caught up in her breakfast-making responsibilities, and I came in to assist her as I could.  While I waited for the waffles to cook, completely unprompted, I asked Rachel out of the blue, "I know it's early, but have you given any thought to your Halloween costume yet?"

And THAT is why we are bosom friends.

Before church, we strolled through the Stanford art museum, gazing on the bronze Rodin casts of Balzac and Dante, and I thought about how grateful I was that Rachel is educated and cultured and appreciates art so we can discuss it and feel snooty together.

After church that afternoon, we gathered up a luxurious spread of fresh bread, boursin cheese, charcuterie, and dark chocolate peanut butter cups, and then spent the evening in the setting sun, picnicking with her friends, tossing a Frisbee, and later, playing super stressful word games together.

Thanks for the weekend, Rachel!! You're as good as they come.