Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Friday, July 10, 2009
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
As I sit here typing and refusing to pay for a wifi connection, I wonder if this kooky font will transfer via cut and past from my word processor to the blog. No matter. I’ll write it now in this whimsical way and hope for the best.
It was a fun packed, whirlwind weekend in L.A. La la la la la la..... I caught up with some old friends at a part Friday night, some I haven’t seen in way too long. Good food, chilly libations and lively conversation were had and enjoyed by all. There was a nice beach bike ride on a congested fourth of July. It was so crowded, there were spots along the way where we had to walk our bikes, wedging through the throngs that had spread from party houses out over the path. My only mishap was a dribble of beer on my hand made my a staggering young delinquent shouting, “USA, USA!” Cops were everywhere - on foot, on bikes, on horses - as were revelers and weirdos. What’s not to like about L.A? Stretches of sand were completely covered by towels and shelters and bodies. The smell of salt and Coppertone and charcoal grills filled the air. Helicopters patrolled back and forth along the shore. Our friend Carol joined Janine, Lila and me for burgers back at the girls’ house and later a fireworks show in Woodland Hills. The next day we enjoyed some pool time, then headed to Staples Center where there was plenty of Michael Jackson hoopla. The funeral was today, of course. The early crowd waited patiently in line to sign a large, white board with a picture of Michael. We took it all in, experiencing a bit of history. I signed man’s autograph book upon request, giving my last, heartfelt sentiments for The King of Pop. There were people from all over the world. Janine chatted with a group from Poland.
We found Trader Vic's for libations, then it was on to the Sparks game, LA's WNBA team. The Sparks played well - for the first half. They pretty much stunk up the place in the second. Still, we cheered and were treated to some great basketball. The ol’ timers dancing and the little kids jamming were a highlight that certainly beat the slutty cheerleaders featured in NBA games.
Yesterday morning, I did my time in the dentist’s chair. Now, I’m off to the Mile High City, Queen City of the Plains, where John Elway is God and the air just a little thinner. Then to sunny Gunny.
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
Thankfully, this lady turned out to be different from the man at the library (please refer to a previous blog for that story). For one thing, she did not ask for dozens of additional words. For another, she was a she. It was a coffee shop, after all, not the hallowed halls of la biblioteca where quiet is both revered and expected. We talked about art, about poi, about breadfruit, about the merits and overuse of noni. She was lovely and interesting. I couldn't help but notice the copy of Natalie Goldberg's Wild Mind on her table. Below that was Writing the Natural Way by Gabriele Lusser Rico. Everyone's a writer these days. We chatted about that a bit, too.
Today it was back to town for another pound of coffee, some dog food, cat food, burritos for lunch and a prescription for some nose spray my allergy doctor thinks I need. I'm not so sure. Stuff tastes nasty when it runs down the back of my throat.
I'm packed and ready to fly away. Tomorrow night I'll land in beautiful San Diego. After some much needed underwear shopping at the Jockey outlet, my friend Gail and I will head north for a fun-filled weekend in L.A., with the coup d' gras a trip to the dentist. My dentist is in Encino. My orthopeodist is in Colorado. I'll see her the next day. My gynocologist is in Honolulu. Years ago, I had a gyno named Dr. Ira ( I don't remember his last name) in L.A. He had pictures of Farrah Faucet and Ryan O'Neill on his walls. Seems Farrah and I had something in common. The same kindly Jewish grandpa doctor did our pap smears. He delivered her baby. I really liked Dr. Ira.
I told my mom about my visit to L.A. I said I had requested a hike, followed by dinner at Los Toros.
She asked, "Is that as good as Las Flies?" I took her there once when she came to visit me in The Valley eons ago.
I said, "That is Las Flies." That was our old nickname for the place. It's grown since those days but the food is still the same. Same owners. They still pour an extra shot of tequilla into the glasses when you buy a pitcher. Only difference: now it's huge with valet parking. Love Las Flies. Tacos al carbon. I order the same thing every time. Hmmmm... the carnitas rock, too.
A hui hou. Aloha!