I was prepared to write-off Thanksgiving Day in Los Angeles as any other ol’ holiday, the same happens here as in Wichita, Kansas – just families getting together for a meal that makes you loosen your belt-buckle – but then, I was waiting in traffic at a stop light and suddenly, Pocahontas walked in front of me. Yes. Moccasins, hand-made paper headdress and nude-ish onesie. Awesome.
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Nog
24 Nov
You know it’s that time of year when…
Taken at Ralph’s Grocery store – which I always refer to as ‘King Sooper’s’ or thoughtlessly ‘Albertsons’. These are the two grocery chains I grew up with, and despite being more than several years out of the ballpark of childhood, I have to consciously acknowledge that I am shopping at ‘Ralph’s’ no matter how ridiculous a name I consider this to be (because ‘King Soopers’ makes sense?). Sometimes I just revert back to familiar names; as if I traveled often and started calling every hotel I stayed at ‘home’.
We’ll Dream of Trick-or-Treating
2 Nov“It’s late and we are sleepy,
The air is cold and still.
Our jack-o-lantern grins at us
Upon the windowsill.
We’re stuffed with cake and candy
And we’ve had a lot of fun,
But now it’s time to go to bed
And dream of all we’ve done.”
We came out as goblins, we came out as ghosts, we came out as pirates, princesses and, the Brokeback mountain boys. The funny thing about Halloween in Hollywood is that until the next day, when everyone is wearing their regular clothing, you don’t know who’s dressed up for Halloween and who’s simply dressed for everyday. The man standing still for hours in a gold sequined suit, face painted, waiting for you to put a dollar in his hat so he can move, is still waiting for that dollar on Halloween; alongside Cinderella and Marilyn Monroe and now, more often than not, Michael Jackson.
The day after Halloween there are remnants. The fake cotton cobwebs clinging to bushes, signs threatening use of silly-string ($1,000 fine) nailed to neighborhood poles, front lawn decorations still lit. There are people shuffling out of friends houses in bright satin muumuu’s, angling to get to their car as fast as possible.
As concerns my night, even I, who remain firmly stuck in the mud when it comes to dressing for Halloween, came around. Though a true cliché, I was a pirate. A fancy one; with lots of bangles and bracelets, an eye-popping earring and numerous dangling seashells. I buckled my boots, tied my bandana and partied with the rest of them until the wee hours. I saw a pantless banana, met Miss Menopause (hormonal induced mustache and all), drank vodka with Catwoman and danced with a cowboy.
Going Gaga
30 OctThe California coast lit up this morning with the warm embrace of a sunrise so spectacular – in all it’s purply/pink/yellow glory – that the morning news didn’t stop showing shots of it until 7am, when the broadcast switched over to Good Morning America. In related news: I need more sleep. Oh, and TGIF. Time creaks slowly towards sweet, sweet, weekend.
Do you have Halloween plans? I certainly don’t, but honestly I never really try anyway. Not for Halloween. It’s too costly. It’s too time consuming, and I can’t ever drag myself out to the shops or justify the gigantic expenditures for costumes I won’t wear more than once; the general costume selection out there makes any thoughtful effort an enormous pain in my ass. If I want anything good, I will be collecting items from store to store, sewing at home, and hoping the whole thing doesn’t fall off the moment I step out the door. Likewise, disappointment sets in every time I’m invited to a party – I think it’s going to be some evening soiree with exquisitely detailed and realistic zombies, harlequins and 18th century Antoinettes – it is never as imagined; it’s just a kegger, with clowns. Last year, my hubby and I wound up in a grungy bar in the middle of some skanky part of Santa Monica, dressed as a nun and a priest. Everyone kept bowing and asking us to bless them the whole time. Those were seriously the ONLY costumes that wouldn’t require extra parts, so we bought them last minute. It is why I’m lame on Halloween. I’m the one who locks my door and turns off the lights. Then again, I never went trick or treating growing up. I don’t know why it’s exciting to go from door to door collecting candy for hours in the cold (first snow in Colorado is on Halloween). But you, I hope YOU have a good thing going tomorrow.
Be safe out there this holiday weekend. If Auroras emergence this morning has any prophecies in it, it’s that the witchy weather has vanished, and the only thing terrifying about this weekend will be the copious amounts of sugar (and possible alcohol) consumed, and more Lady Gaga’s than I’d like to see in my lifetime.
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
Shot taken up Runyon Canyon, 8am.
Boo
16 OctCelebrating Halloween is an art form. Last year, a local man caused a stir when he lit up a decked out display of Obama with a cash blockage up his backside while Palin hung off the chimney in full red suit and heels. I don’t doubt that this year will be any different in terms of making statements for Halloween. After all, it’s a great excuse to honor a centuries old pagan tradition, or if you’re feeling sexy, another reason to put your T and A on display. That’s where Santa Monica Boulevard comes in, or clubzone. Around California, there’s plenty to choose from for a frightful night: Universal Studios, Knottsberry Farm, Disneyland and of course, there’s always miles of pumpkin patches, like Mr. Bones’ Pumpkin Patch; A popular destination for celebrities.
Slowly but surely, the ghosts have moved in, the skeletons crept up out of their crypts and placed their bones about, the pumpkins are smiling and the mangled spiders have grown in size. My neighbors have a case of “Maman”:
I know the pictures have bad exposure, but all I had was a camera phone in 6am light, which is to say no light at all.
It’s Fall, Didn’t You Know
14 OctThe rain followed me to L.A. Boulder traded theirs for snow.
A flood of drizzle blankets the city in a never-ending pelt, cleansing the town of its dry dust; now swiftly moving into the sewers and out to sea.
Other than the traffic, which ebbs even slower when water abounds, there isn’t much that can’t be found in other metropolitans under a downpour – the people running, newspapers above heads, colorful umbrellas, crowds shivering under stoops and covered bus stop benches. However, there is one despotic change – the smell. Some sort of scented emanation has erupted; wherever I am – chugging up along Fairfax, gunning it on the 110 Highway – I am hit with a redolence of rosemary, jasmine and dense earthy dirt. As it happens, everything has turned darker – with the sun no longer shining, the bark of trees soaked to black – and the contrast sets the greenery on fire; the greens greener, the yellow leaves yellower.
This sort of approximate weather change occurs each year; the sudden transition from summertime heatstroke to chilly torrential downpour strikes the line between Summer and Fall, and suddenly we’re swathed in wool coats and cashmere sweaters when a week prior, weekends meant neon bikinis and surfing at the beach. Though the weather is expected to be temporal and therefore hardly marks the Fall season inasmuch as the yellowing and falling leaves in the Midwest. Likewise, it is the beginning of a season that goes mostly unrecognized in Los Angeles – that is, unless a mudslide or fire threatens to drown us in a different sort of downpour.
Despite the decorous scenery and enchanting aroma, which seem to occur on the precipice of any sort of jeopardy (i.e. recent red dust storms in Australia), each weather change invites a new hazard. For those recently travailed with fires, they now face another endemic adversity – that of mudslides. California is indeed a concrete jungle – if the taxes don’t kill you (or the people, or the traffic), Mother Nature might.
30
Sep
Another beautiful morning I thought just shouldn’t escape a snap. It’s chilly. It’s windy. I can feel Fall nearby, but not quite within grasp. It is a welcome reprieve to our boiling August weather that sometimes doesn’t want to go away until after Halloween. So here it is, today’s sunrise. I enjoyed it, I hope you do too.
Butt Cracks of Dawn
25 Sep
This depressingly long week has finally come to an end (officially 5pm, but you know, I’m pretty much there already). I’ve been testing a new system at work (long meetings and even longer data entry), walking the dog in the now dark 6am hours (should I carry mace?), tried to save a baby possum from being run over by a car (but he died later in the bushes abandoned by Mom), my Dad and I haven’t exactly been talking over the last few weeks, and this heat could make anyone want to move to Alaska and give up on the never-ending sunny days of California. So here we are, Friday. I woke up late but the 7am walk was beautiful.
Fog
22 SepAt the current 66 degree weather, it’s strange to see the morning fog still lazying about. Yet, it’s murkiness has traipsed into the streets and at 8:30am, is still lingering like a loyal dog. How perfect then, that this morning’s aberrant weather marks the first day of Fall, and hopefully a change in the recent blistering heat that ensures my energy bill for all the a/c blasting will continue to rise. L.A.’s cool humidity this morning is potentially meaningless; temperatures are expected to reach 102 today. So, until Fall breaks the fever, we’re a/c bound.
The Fires
31 AugAnother California summer brought along with it dry heat and dry grasses; ergo the palpitating, unrelentant, blazing flames. On Saturday morning at 7:30am, atop the 3 mile hike that is Runyon Canyon, the smoky city is ghostly and stinks of sizzling debree, like burning rubber.
The entire Valley.
NO SAINTS IN L.A. 