There’s No Place Like Home
Aaaah yessss, there’s no place like Southern California (or at least in my world), where in the dead of winter you can strip down to your bikini and take a nice invigorating dip in the ocean, and survive to tell about it.
The sense of premature summer is so liberating that it makes you want to dance, or imitate Michael Jackson.
We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.
We’re in the Ventura thrift shops! “All I have is my little purse, and my hat.”
Granny, what a big cake you have! This is my lovely grandmother Ada.
CANCUN HERE WE COME!!!
Party spring-break style. Free beer and hot women– does it get any better than that?
Granny and her girls. Zigfield follies style.
Those margeritas were absolutely hideous. All 5 of them.
Whoa, girl, slow down on those things….
Oh great, now the whole family’s wasted!
Gettin’ down with Steely Dan after all those margeritas….
Awwww, yeah. We’re THAT hard. Zip lines.
Some ancient Mayan ruins to take the edge off of the resort strip.
Mayan football: The winning team had the honor of being sacrificed to the gods.
My sister and I, about to be sacrificed. I always knew we were big winners.
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