Category Archives: I'm in LA, Trick.

this is why i’m hot

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A few months ago, I mentioned to you that I may or may not be on Jimmy Kimmel Live. With Hanson. No big deal. I promptly forgot about it because the show wasn’t aired the same week. But, finally, they aired the episode with Hanson yesterday.

Do you see me? In the bottom right hand corner? Amazing. What a lucky girl I am.

Speaking of lucky, I also this week received my birthday gift from SS, one of my sisters from the east coast. And while I am excited about the canning supplies (thank you thank you!) what I was most excited about was the entire jar of atomic fireballs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For those of you who knew me in college, you might have known that freshman year I showed up with a loud mouth and a giant container of fireballs.

Literally that many. I kept them (I am embarrassed to say!) I think three years before Sierra or Katie or someone made me throw them out, good or not. But now I have my own stash in my kitchen. I have been eating them on the way to yoga, on the way to the grocery store, before work…you get the idea! I love them, this coming from someone who can’t tolerate spicy food at all! But they are the best of the best, and I am so thankful for them. In fact, I think I might have one right now…

 


Friday morning (afternoon) things.

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I can’t seem to keep my shoes on at work (or home for that matter) for more than ten minutes.

This often results in the following conversation:

“Incoming!” (Liz says from her seat behind my desk.)

“But I’m not wearing any shoes!” I rush to find my shoes under/around my desk. Usually I am at least wearing socks, if nothing else.

Inevitably about 80% of the time I don’t find my shoes in time, and I end up having to talk to people in my socks or bare feet. This doesn’t, however, make me wear my shoes any more often.

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This weekend I went to the Songkran Festival with Cricket. It is the Thai new year celebration. Here are some photographs.

 

Our delicious lunch. We also shared a bag of fried bananas.

There was live music everywhere!

Some of the girls that danced for a large audience. They were so lovely.

This is my Buddha pose. In Thailand, you pray to your Buddha pose that is the day of the week you were born on, and also give donation to that Buddha. I was born on Monday. Here are the rest.

This is a radish carved into a flower. Vegetable and fruit carving is very traditional to Thailand, and history points its origins to this country.

This is a fish carved out of fruit. Amazing!

More music!

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After the festival, I walked home. I had the camera with me, and four miles to kill, so here’s what I found.

 

This is a bee for Melissa. Real flower. Real bee. He was funny.

There he goes. Pollinators are so cool!

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This is why I love living in California. Fruit baskets straight from a citrus tree.

 

 

The Original Hipster

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I downloaded “Instagram” on my phone a few nights ago. The PW told me to, and I mostly trust her in all things. I told Jeff about it, because I was tinkering around on my phone.

“That’s so hipster,” he exclaimed.

“No, it’s not! PW told me to get it, she’s not hipster!” So there, I thought.

“She lived in LA and then moved to the country. And writes a blog. About the country. That makes her like the original hipster.”

Well, maybe it does.

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Last night Corelyn and I went to Griffith Observatory to watch the sunset, something on her LA bucket list. I took this photo with my Instagram program. OK, so maybe there is a little hipster inside of me. A smidge.

A non-hipster photograph of the observatory, all lit up. More to come.

Tuesday morning thoughts.

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Most mornings, around eight, I see two couples on my street. The women walk, slowly, deliberately up, and down, and up my street, turning around in front of my house. They are always dressed well, hunched together, stiffly moving as steadily as their ages permit, always speaking in their first, familial language.

Their husbands wait two apartment buildings down, dressed in jackets, khakis, and baseball caps, flowing from English to their first language and back again. Trying to decipher what the language is most days, listening intently, trying not to stare, I am always caught, and with a smile and a “Good Morning” I once again have missed my opportunity. It sounds like something out of Eastern Europe…Polish, or Russian, a Slavic language that sounds almost familiar, somehow comforting…

These four seventysomething neighbors of mine keep alive my dream of living in a neighborhood full of culture, diversity, and friendship. I love to see them, love saying “Hello,” love being recognized on my street. Because it is my street, and my neighborhood, and these are my neighbors.

If I see these four, walking each morning, it immediately puts a smile on my face. Followed by a quickened pace. For when I see my neighbors, my friends, around eight o’clock, it means I am late.