It had been one of those mornings.  The sky was an angry sort of grey and the rain pounded down on the roof, mercilessly.  I'd had trouble sleeping the night before and my significant other had an early appointment at a government office.  It doesn't matter which one, just that she was facing up to a couple of hours of dealing with bureaucrats who were trying to separate her from her money.  With the little lady already on edge, I'd gone and absentmindedly wiped avocado on the kitchen hand towels that aren't really for wiping your hands on, you know the ones.  To make matters worse, I then half-heartedly tossed the "decorative pillows" on the bed in a manner that could easily be (mis?)construed as mocking.  Well, that did it. The fit, direct hit to the shan.  Voices were raised, things were said. . .  We were both in direct violation of Assembly Concurrent Resolution #112 that passed a few days ago up the street at the State Senate.  It may be "No Cussing Week" in California, but it ain't at my house.  Needless to say,  we had a less than pleasant ride to her appointment.   At one point I may or may not have threatened to drive the car into a ditch.  I'm certainly glad I didn't, doing so would have been counterproductive, I see that now .

By the time I dropped her off, we had regained an air of civility and I sincerely wished her luck.  Any lasting bitterness I may have had was far outweighed by the knowledge that she was entering the engorged belly of the vast Government bureaucracy, hoping that they could do something for her.  That is a scenario I wouldn't wish on anyone.  As I drove off, I felt a little badly about the way I'd handled myself, but I hadn't meant to disregard her little rules. Well, maybe with the pillows, man I hate those things. As far as Im concerned pillows are for laying on and, by definition, should be comfortable.  Whoever invented the itchy, uncomfortable pillow that "looks pretty" can take the proverbial long walk off a short pier.  Now that I think about it, whoever invented hand towels that are only to be touched with spotlessly clean hands can join her on that walk.  But I digress, I am living in Jess' home, and as such, have agreed to certain rules. Among them is respecting that some things in the house are functional, while others are decorative.  I had forgotten to abide those rules on a morning where I knew full well her tolerance for my bs was slim to none.  If the Department of Homeland Security Advisory System had been applied to her chances of going off on me, we'd have been a full code red.  I'd ignored the warnings, and I'd gotten what I'd deserved.

       But this story is not about my ubiquitous missteps with my better half, this is a story of discovery.  Not knowing how long her appointment would take, I decided to drive around a bit and take in a little more Sacramento.  I ended up at the intersection of Gateway Oaks and Garden Hwy.  I decided to head west on the aptly named highway and was immediately glad that I did.  The Garden Highway, as I'm sure most of you know, runs atop a levee along the banks of the American River.  Just a few short miles from our home in bustling midtown and I found myself in a totally different world.  Once I passed the Riverbank Marina with its restaurants and shops on my left and a few necessarily evil cookie cutter residential developments on my right,  I came upon the Virgin Sturgeon.  I had heard from a friend of mine who works up here, that the Sturgeon is the best bar in all of Sac, and Jess had mentioned wanting to go there as well.  Well after seeing it with my own eyes I can tell you that I am downright giddy with anticipation for the first summery day when the opportunity presents itself to take in the view from their patio while sipping on a bloody mary.  I kept on going, passing first dairy farms, then horse ranches on my right, and a mixture of spectacular waterfront mansions and older, funkier, but still beautiful homes on my left.  The sun peaked through the clouds as I came around a bend and suddenly dozens of small birds alit from their perches on the levees side and flew out over a field of bright yellow wild flowers.  I was struck by what a wonderful intermingling of urban and rural life we have here in Sacramento.  Horse farms and wildflowers on the banks of the American River just a few minutes away from the Capital building. It is fitting that the State Capital would be very much a microcosm of the diverse state which it represents. 

I drove out as far as the sign which indicated the Woodland Airport being thattaway, before heading back.  What had started as just a way to kill time after a rough morning, had turned into a wonderful Sunday drive, and here it was, only Wednesday.  I took my time on the meandering trip back, enjoying the brief respite from the rain and the lovely scenery on both sides.  When I got back to where I'd dropped Jess off, I found her as she found me, in a much better mood.  The appointment had gone as well as could be hoped, and finished in a reasonable amount of time.  Huzzah.  We headed back home, with a brief detour to share my Sturgeon discovery with her, and I apologized for my role in the mornings, ahem, unpleasantness.  And just like that, on the side of the Garden Highway, all was forgiven*.  I can't wait to explore the Garden Highway more thoroughly in the days and weeks to come.  

*just to be safe, I took her to lunch at Thai Basil on J Street, which is her favorite.  I may be dumb, but I'm not stupid.:-)