Bob's Corner
From our weekly issue dated June 17, 2009
Natalie and Ella Kaplan at the Museum of Making Music. (Photo by PopPop)
Spent the past several days among internationally recognized authors: Whitman, Twain, Tolkien, Hemingway, Dickinson, and Coleridge to name a few.
What, you doubt that? It’s true. We were in San Diego County’s city of Carlsbad in a neighborhood with the following roadways: Whitman Way, Twain Avenue (near Clemens Court), Tolkien Way, Hemingway Drive, Dickinson Court, and Coleridge Court. And it’s funny in a peculiar way that I had forgotten how hilly the area is, rising from the Pacific coast as it does. You need good brakes on your car down south Carlsbad way.
Had a good time taking care of our two granddaughters; Natalie, almost 7, and Ella, who just turned 4. Their mom, Vicki, had a chance to visit France for a few days under a bargain arrangement with friends. So we said, “Go!” Our son-in-law, Matt, is busy with work, church and other responsibilities, so we used our Nonna and PopPop skills to hold the fort while Vicki was overseas. Reminds me of the line: Going abroad? Come back a lady.
Anyway, our adventures included a visit to the Museum of Making Music. It’s a neat spot, and the girls enjoyed it, especially the interactive room where they could wear earphones and hear the music they were making on various instruments. I tried the banjo, and decided that Steve Martin has nothing to fear.
We also ate at Bobby’s Hideaway Café on El Camino Real, which is now four lanes with traffic signals. Being a native San Diegan I recall when it was a rural two-lane country road with maybe a couple of Stop signs. Anyway again, my photo was taken at Bobby’s for posting on the Wall of Bobs. There are many Bobs already up, including those whose last names are Stack, Newhart, Hope, Blake, Duvall, Culp, and Denver.
The café manager told us that when 500 Bob photos are displayed, there will be a Bobvention. Events will include bobbing for apples. Can hardly wait.
Took some long walks on this trip, including one on Carlsbad Beach; ate too much, but had a great time. And discovered again that what’s worse than packing for a trip is unpacking.
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