The Outdoor Bathing Room...

Yesterday my pal Meagan and I went on a day trip to Sebastopol, California, which is in Sonoma County. One of our coworkers lives there, and she was exhibiting and selling some of her jams, pickles and photography at a friend's home there. Several women were putting on a craft fair party, benefiting some charity that helps at-risk young women. Sebastopol is about an hour from San Francisco by car (on a no-traffic day). Unfortunately for us, there were three multi-car accidents along the way, so it took us much longer to get there, (plus, we got lost) but we made it. The weather was incredibly mild and lovely yesterday, and the artisans were set up both inside and outside the house, so it was nice.

As Meagan and I got further and further from San Francisco, the landscape got more and more green and more and more "country". Meagan was driving my car - she loves to drive, and I was pretty tired from working a sixth day at work (I'd worked from 5 - 9:30am in our warehouse at work) so I was happy to be the passenger. At some point I began to see cows on the hillsides, and when we were actually in Sebastopol, driving along a country road dotted with adorable houses and the occasional restaurant or shop, I saw a little herd of miniature goats. (Herd of goats? Flock? Pack of goats?) I interrupted Meagan's story she was telling me to say, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I just saw a whole bunch of cute goats! I love the country!"
"But why would anyone want to live here?" Meagan of the City wondered.
"Because it's beautiful and clean, and because you can have GOATS here, Paris Hilton," I replied.

Next we got lost.
"Can you turn there?" I asked, pointing ahead at what looked like a road.
"Uh, that's not a road, it's the entrance to a Flea Market," Meagan said. Finally, we had to stop at a gas station, where Meagan/Paris proceeded to accidentally hit the horn, loudly blasting some Country (Sebastopol) Lady with Mall/Country Hair who was waiting in a plastic chair for her car to get serviced. Jeez.
I asked some nice white man (okay, EVERYONE was white there; it was really kind of weird and shocking to me) where "Hessel Road" was, and he kindly gave me directions. "You'll see an Indian motorcycle shop, you'll see a lot of old Indian rugs and totem poley type stuff, and right beyond there, you turn right," he said.

Yes, he said TOTEM POLEY type stuff...

The craft fair was great fun. I bought hand-dipped beeswax candles, pickles, fig jam, raspberry jam, and a handmade hoola hoop. The Hoola Hoop lady was also selling something she called, "Ma's Moonshine", which contained apple, pear, spices and brandy, among other things. That shit was so strong, I felt drunk after just two samples and was pretty sure I could breathe fire if someone lit a match near my mouth. Meagan bought two bottles of this home made Ma's Moonshine, and she kept trying to get me to taste more and more of it. I think I'm going to call her "Moonshine" from now on.

The people who own this fantastic country house built an outdoor, open-air bathing house. It has an elevated redwood deck, matching deep antique bathtubs, full plumbing, a wood wall covered with passion flower vines, and an outdoor shower made of galvanized steel. It is so fucking cool. There are few things in life I love as much as taking an outdoor shower... much less an outdoor bath! I hope I own a house one day. It would not have to be huge or fancy, but I would definitely build an outdoor bath room!

Sonoma County is just about the most perfect place in California, and probably the whole lower 48 states. But I could never live in a place with that little ethnic diversity. I was the only person of color I saw the entire day there.