carlos santana monica

So the other day I was in Santa Monica, and I cleverly posted a facebook photo update from my fancy phone with a beautiful photo of the psychadelic ferris wheel lights that I could see out the window of my hotel room. I captioned it: "santa monica pier out my window :)" Ellie soon commented to say: "Oh I love Carlos Santana Monica." I found this uproariously funny, despite the fact that I didn't get it.
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I thought about it several times over the course of my busy, fleeting weekend. When I remembered that I had a blog post to get up on this fine Monday morning, I decided to post some random photos from the weekend along with Ellie's very funny yet oddly inexplicable facebook comment.
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Just now when I sat down to get 'er done while finishing my wine before I got back to the vodka and fresh squeezed orange juice, I pulled up that comment to make sure I quoted it correctly, only to find that my photo caption said "santana monica pier out my window :)" !!!! I am shit with the autotype. But I DO have an uncanny gift for living a life that breeds blog fodder, don't I?
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So yeah, I'm a dumbass, and here are some photos of Santa(na) Monica.

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We stayed at such a lovely place:

Just steps from such a lovely back yard
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In true Jacquie fashion, I changed rooms three times over the course of those two nights. This was a work gig, and my whole staff was up there with me. I had determined early on that it was worth a portion of personal expense to have my own room, because I'm a solitude junkie. When we arrived, I asked for a really great room, and was given the key to a corner joint with two walls of windows and an ocean view. But when I walked in, it was abundantly clear that this room was not vacant! Oh, the horror of what I could have walked in to witness. But when it was made clear that the lovely corner room was not availalable to me, I could not abide by the dark and airless lair beneath the stairs that was offered in its stead. I opted to upgrade the upgrade, and spent that first night in an absurdly large suite where I had a window seat on which to perch whilst chatting up my peeps back home...
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and a window overlooking the mesmorizing lights of the ferris wheel at the end of the famed Santa(na) Monica pier, an image I spent countless moments trying desperately to capture:
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Finally, I took to my bed. Oh, it was lovely. Despite the skewed M, I did just as directed:
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In the morning, I ran on the vast expanse of beach, what a glorious time! I continued to be enraptured by that big wheel, though it had long stopped turning in those wee hours:
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I only got to have that lovely room for the one night, but my next digs were not too shabby:

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This one had a setup that allowed me to sit on those plump white pillows with my book or laptop and gaze upon my lovely, lovely ocean. My eyes had their fill of beautiful ocean this weekend, if there could ever be a cap on such bounty.

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That night was an adventure of sights and sounds and sushi, out on the town. Yum. And fun. On the way home, when we approached the omipresent pier, my cohorts had only to nudge at the suggestion of diving in, so to speak. We bashed each other with bumper cars, and then a friend and I braved the ferris wheel. I do not like ferris wheels, that backward dive is horrific and not a feeling I am inclined to seek out. But that wheel had been such a fixture in my weekend, and I thought of you, dear readers. I knew I should go for it if for no other reason than to capture photos of what promised to be a spectacular view. Do I disappoint?

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Yeah, well. There were sake bombs at dinner. Sue me.

The trip was short, but really nice. And it wouldn't be Santa Monica without a trip to the Farmer's Market, right?

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Such a lovely place.