Midnight Oil

Hello, friends. I'm here to tell you about some things that didn't get on the blog last post (which was ONLY 7 days ago; so yay me for blogging more than once every other month).

So last month my family and I made our way over to California for my Grandpa's memorial service. He passed away last fall and so it was finally time to celebrate his life amongst family and friends.

We got to California a day before the service, so we took some time out to do something you can't do in Arizona...go to the beach. There's definitely none of those in Arizona. I've checked. So on a Friday afternoon we walked along the most empty beach I've ever seen in all the times I've been to California. I guess a week day, in the middle of the afternoon, in February has that effect on beaches. Either way, we certainly enjoyed the solitude. Even Nate. He goes, "You know, it's nice not to have like, an agenda or anything to do. We can do whatever we want right now." That means Nate was relaxed. And Nate's never relaxed so that was a bonus.

We even let our inner 10-year-old-selves come out as we charged every flock of seagulls we came upon...

...Cause I feel like as 28 year-old adults we just don't get that chance often enough.

My parents and sister finally arrived not too long after we did.

We were exchanging video messages all morning on our way over since we were in two different vehicles so we thought we should rub it in that we got to the beach first and that we rule and they drool. So we started recording a quick snippet and Nate laid down the hammer with, "Just cause you're old doesn't mean you have to drive like it." And then my mom threatened our safety and called us names. Well deserved, I suppose.

After making a pit stop for a soft pretzel with cheese, some nachos (also with cheese) and a few Diet Cokes, we finally made it to the pier at Huntington Beach:

By the time we were on our way back it was basically sunset, and the wannabe yogi in me couldn't resist a yoga pic:

In another life I teach yoga and my yoga account is Instagram famous and I get paid to record yoga videos and I get free yoga pants that have different variations of sunflowers on them. But that's not this life, that's another life. That's completely and totally made up. And will never happen.

The next day was the service at the country club my Grandpa had been a part of for so many years.

My sister and I and our cousins, his granddaughters.

Building antique cars was his thing for most (if not, all) of his adult life, so his friends drove theirs to the service as one last ode to my Grandpa. It was cool, and neat, and touching for everyone.

The microphone was passed around throughout the afternoon and many of his closest friends and family members stood up to speak. They told a funny story, or described a favorite character trait of his, or even had a good laugh at some of his worst. Hearing these things helps you forget the sadness for a little while and instead become immersed in the absolute best of times. The kind of memories that take you there so much so, that you're jarred back to the present when you're finished remembering.

My grandpa built a car called Midnight Oil.

He built it, and he tuned it, and he raced it for a lot of years. He won awards with it. He repaired it when it needed repairs. He improved it when he wanted it better.

You could say the same about his life. A self-made, hard-working kind of man. He built it, his life. He tuned it, so that it was the kind of life he wanted. And he was rewarded for it, with a wonderful family. ...and also lots of rounds of golf in retirement. 

May your car fly fast, and the midnight oil burn forever, Grandpa.