My parents are going to visit the place where they want to be buried. I have to admit I find that a little strange. I don’t think about death that much. More than I used too but still, not that much. For them to be so able to deal with it and to go and work out the details about where they are going to go when they die amazes me.

For me, they are two of the bravest and most thoughtful people I know. Not only do they have the courage to deal with the details but they are especially concerned about ever being a “burden” to me and mine after they are gone. Are these people great or what?

To have put up with all my shit as I was growing up and still want to make things easier for me now is something I probably won’t understand until I have kids of my own. Until then, I will just consider myself one of the luckiest people around. Thanks for being cool Mom and Dad.

Now, on to the other part of this. As my parents have left town I will be going down to their place for the weekend to water the plants, check on the place, etc. It has been some time since I have been back to Encinitas (a.k.a the flower and surf capitol of the world. trust me, it says that on the sign) and I don’t know quite what to expect.

Every time I go back the place seems to have gotten bigger and, much to my dismay, more like LA. Too many people, too many giant SUV’s and Mercedes drivers with their heads up their ass. Too many people on cell phones. All the things that make LA a less than pleasant experience sometimes. However, the house is very close to the beach which is a plus. I used to go to the beach all the time but now it takes too much time on the 405 so I almost never go.

I may end up seeing a few old friends and having a cocktail or two (i know, big surprise) so that could be cool. Whatever happens I will take some pix and be posting the gory details right here. Maybe I will drink to much beer and get in a bar fight! Or get stopped by the cops and have to walk home. See, in those days the cops were pretty cool. We got pulled over one night and the cop knew we had had a few. Does he give us a ticket or arrest us? Impound the car? Beat us with his baton? Nope.

He makes us park the car at a nearby 7-11 and walk home. That’s it. They don’t call them the good old days for nothing I guess. Oh well, maybe you can’t go home again but you can visit for a few days.

Later.