Lettuce and the Literary Giant

Yesterday, I received a much needed lift to broken spirit. The Kid went off to play soldier so I stole his car to embark on my 20 mile journey to neighboring Salinas. This was no small feat considering I can get lost in my own backyard w/ a map and a travel guide. Despite my admitted shortcomings in the traveling dept. I did not get lost and arrived in a timely fashion to the land of lettuce and Steinbeck.
The drive itself was worth the trip. I became that stereotypically dangerous tourist as I began to take pictures of the incredible landscape as I drove down the winding coastal roads. Good times indeed.
The Steinbeck Center/Museum itself was good times as well. I had the opportunity to see Rocinante up close and personal(made even more special b/c I recently finished reading his last book). The town of Salinas was a shining example of what America has become. On the surface it is the charming hometown of one of America's greatest writers. Just beyond the brand-new parking garage adjacent to the Steinbeck center is a poverty-stricken ghetto that is home to many of the migrant workers that work in the fields that make Salinas the "lettuce capital of the world." Don't fix the problem, just build an aesthically pleasing distraction.
On the drive back to Monterey I stopped off at some campground to eat my lunch and take it all in. I drove straight up a mountain, put on some loud rocknroll and ate the hell outta my delicious Panini(it's a sandwich, not an Italian vagina). I'm not trying to sound like a tree-humping hippie, but this place is fuckin gorgeous. I felt like I was prancing around in a postcard w/ pesto all over my face(again, from the sandwich, not an Italian vagina.) No idea what's in store today. I may be lame again and run around on Monterey beach(the same beach that a young Steinbeck went fishing on nearly 100 years ago). Someone please kick me in the giblet fun bag for being so lame.