My family and I boarded the Quest last week and set sail for Placerville, CA. We stopped often to look and touch and taste, but what amused me the most were my husband Dennis' quips as he navigated back down the 101 towards the barren, scorpion-ridden kiln of a desert we call home.
Dennis pontificated about the fact that radio stations in coastal towns always play some sort of "lite" jazz.
Dennis: Nothing threatening: No drums, no guitar riffs, just a homogenized mixture of non-threatening musical instruments.
Heather: Soft music that feels good.
Dennis: Radio stations with call signs like KOST.
Dennis: Or KLITE. *starts laughing*
Heather: What?
Dennis: Say it out loud.
Heather: K lit... OMG!!
Dennis: Do you think Percy Sledge was the brother of Sister Sledge? Just wonderin'.
Dennis: Why is it called "Sit n' Sleep"? Shouldn't it be called "Lay and Sleep"?
Heather: I think maybe the store sells chairs and beds.
Dennis: Oh, I see. I assumed it was just a bed store. Are you sure they sell chairs?
Dennis: ♪ Oye como va, give me taco sauce for my burrito ♪ How come they have taco sauce? They don't have burrito sauce. Can you put taco sauce on a burrito? It's not the same.
Heather: They should have a computer type place and call it "Nerdstroms".
Dennis: I like that.
Heather: Does laying pipe mean pooping or having sex.
Dennis: I thought it meant having sex. Are you going to record that?
Why yes, yes I am.
