It’s been a busy weekend. As some of you know, my daughter is getting married next Saturday. But you’re never too busy when you’ve got a dead blue whale in your backyard.
In between trips to Smart and Final for Ginger Ale and phony champagne glasses I joined the human carnival that was keeping vigil over the whale carcass that washed ashore near Hobson’s Park. All kinds of crazy folks were there to look at the whale, take pictures of the whale, touch the whale, say a prayer for the whale, burn incense for the whale, show the whale to the baby, have the baby kiss the dead whale.
Later in the day Maureen and I drove to Santa Barbara to do some reconnaissance at East Beach where Matt and Emma will be getting married. On the way up I had to stop at Faria Beach to see how the whale interment was progressing. I mean, how big a hole does it take to bury a blue whale?
Turns out that you bury a whale the same way that you eat an elephant: one bite at a time.
