The amount of joy I get from having friends visit me is slightly ridiculous. The only problem is that I have this weird need to prove to them that California really is all it's cracked up to be (by me), but I've discovered that whenever friends come to visit is usually the exact moment the weather decides not to be perfect. Case in point: the week Caitlin and Chris arrived was the haziest week I've seen since I moved to LA. 

Luckily, I don't think they minded very much. The sun was still shining and the temperatures were beautiful, and I showed them all of the must-see places (Griffith Observatory, the Hollywood sign,  the Santa Monica pier, sprinkled with a few of my favorites (Malibu, Manhattan Beach, Hermosa Beach). 

When we were in our freshman year of college, Caitlin and I took a spring break vacation to Orange County and stayed in Newport Beach, because duh, that's where The O.C. took place. No, but really, that's why we went there. Because of a television show. We were too young to rent a car, so we walked for miles in flip flops and jumped on buses that were going up and down the PCH in order to get places. We managed to simultaneously underestimate how chilly it was by the ocean in March and how strong the sun was despite the cold, resulting in frozen fingers and toes and lobster red sunburns. It was a semi-disaster, but it was our semi-disastser, and we happily owned it. 

That was the trip that solidified my desire to move to Southern California, so I was excited for Cait to come back out and experience it with an older, wiser, much more knowledgeable Rachel as a guide. I warned her to bring plenty of layers this time, and I even managed to get her one celebrity sighting, at the very end of the trip (Molly Shannon at The Griddle). Overall, I'd qualify the visit as a success.  

Thanks for being excellent guests, Cait & Chris! We miss you already.