Donde esta Clint Eastwood, or Tinkling in Carmel…

My husband is fortunate enough to have deep roots in Northern California. He was raised in the Bay Area and spent many childhood weekends, and some adult years, in Sonoma County. Hills, valleys, grapevine fields, quaint general stores.

We have spent many holidays here, but this is the first trip with Maria. We are visiting family and friends and introducing our Tennessee girl to the lush life — fragrant lemons the size of grapefruit, breath-taking roadside blooms, and oh yeah, wine tasting rooms.

Today we are visiting Carmel-by-the-Sea. A first for me. My mother, she of the Star Magazine lust, reminded me Clint Eastwood lives here and once was mayor. No Clint sightings, but we have seen all the beauty that nature offers this blessed coast: crashing surf, houses the size of small countries, wildflowers, sea lions, harbor seals.

This morning as we explored the nature around Pebble Beach, a protected natural area, we came upon sea glass, washed-up jelly fish, cool blue birds and a surfing sea otter. And, while I snapped the pictures I realized that my relaxing on the California surf is over for a while.

Here’s what I was thinking: “If Maria has to pee, just where are we going to do it?”

Sure enough, within minutes, we were crouched behind a sand dune.

Sorry, Clint.