We almost didn't go. The weather in LA was miserable and more was on the way. It would only be worse the further north we went; and once we were in the mountains, forget it. To see anything we would need to Google photos on the iPad. "Oh, wow. Look at this picture of a vineyard we're driving past but can't see."
I pulled the covers over our heads and we listened to the rain. Sleep tugged at the leg of my pajamas and I started after him down the open manhole in the middle of the bed. Just before ducking out I labored an open eye to check in on Lu. She was WIDE awake. "Oh no, Mushush," she said. "I don't care if it's pouring. I want to drink a nice glass of wine at a vineyard and I want to see the little horses." (Apparently they have miniature horses in Santa Ynez.) Lu then did an imitation of herself standing defiant and miserable in the rain with a soggy glass of wine in her hand while demanding a pony be brought out from the barn so she could pet it. Then she did the pony, cranky and reluctant, being dragged out to meet her. I started to laugh and poor Sleep lost his grip and fell to his death. (Don't worry. It would only be temporary.)
We crested the Santa Monicas on the 405 Freeway and the sun burst out and started to punt the rain clouds over Burbank and back out to sea. That never would have happened had we stayed in bed. And that wasn't just the caffeine talking.
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