Outdoor Seating

One of the basic pleasures of being in Southern California is ubiquitous outdoor seating.  It seems to pop up not only outside of restaurants and coffee shops, but also outside of grocery stores, in alleys between clothing stores, and on sidewalks surrounding bookshops, department stores, and holistic health centers for cats and dogs.  

So after a couple more days of just barely making it to the library and feeling woozy, I'm now hungry for real food. I ventured out to engage with the teeming hordes in a space of public discourse.  I took it slow and opted for the Corner Bakery, a cute café I'd driven by a few times.  I had chicken salad with apples, currants, and almonds.  It was already dark and near closing time, but I sat on the patio with some other latecomers and chatted with an incredibly nice waiter.  As I sat there, with views of the cafe, the Anthropologie boutique across the street (when is it appropriate to shop there?), and a Macy's hovering above me next door, I experienced my first bout of cool fall air.  Refreshing!

I've Been Cameroned

Used my free pass to see the re-release of Avatar IMAX 3D.  All I can say is I'm glad it was a free pass and that I was not in fact an idiot for missing this when it was all the rage.

Nothing To See Here

Gah.  Sick!  Been sleeping in my room for a couple days...  Finally made it out for some groceries.  Instead of enjoying Wahoo's fish tacos, A'float sushi, or Avanti's wood fired pizza (all around my block), I just bought bananas, oatmeal, tea, and cinnamon applesauce.

Sandra should be proud.

IMAX it to the MAX

Tonight I went to see Inception at the nearby IMAX theater.  Since I hadn't seen it yet because no one would go with me - I'm talking to you Mike and also partly to you Jason - this seemed like a good LA thing to do.  Now I'll admit that I've been heavily relying on my very cool GPS device (thanks Dad and Mom!), but even that little powerhouse could not help me navigate the maze that is the Edwards AMC Santa Anita at the Arcadia Westfield Mall.  Now, I'm not a stranger to multiplexes nor to malls, but my god.  After many false attempts, I made it to the mysterious second floor of the parking garage, apparently the only way for an out-of-towner like me to even begin to imagine navigating my way into the AMC.

I realize I've been living in the Midwest too long, because this theater actually overwhelmed me.  Multiple IMAX screens, random 3D movies I've never even heard of, and tweens everywhere!  I knew I was finally in the right place.  The line was intense, and included what appeared to be a crowd of 15 kids staging a sit-in at one of the ticket seller's windows, so I assessed my options.  On one of the far walls was a special looking computer that reputed to sell tickets.  So I used that, and subsequently walked right into the theater.  Maybe this explains why the line is filled with tweens but not adults - no credit cards.  Well, my ticket was $15.50 but this was an IMAX showing, so I went with it.  But I was immediately aware of my huge error - I had not eaten.  I was starving!  So I got on line at the concession stand.  Hmmm, popcorn and a coke seemed like the right fare.  Wait?  $5.75 for a soda!  And just as much for a small popcorn!!  I scanned my surroundings for an out.  In the far dark corner, I saw a glowing light.  Vending machines!  I'm saved.  Confident that a coke would be cheaper here, I swiped my card.  My bottle of coke cost $3.75.  Now this is ridiculous, but, granted, better than the $5.75.  But no snacks in the vending machines, so I went back to the line.  I got my $6.25 medium bag of popcorn and, after conferring with a friend on the phone about what I had just done, went to find my seat.

Woohoo, only a few random couples in the theater, so I setteled in to a lazy-boy-like seat in the middle.  The movie was scheduled to start at 8:10.  It was almost 8:00.  I ate my popcorn and watched the stupid pre-movie commercials.  I was feeling happy... and then I realized why: the commercials were muted!  What was this magical trick this theater was pulling?  I didn't care because I loved it.  I did what any self-respecting person would do and texted some friends about it.  But then it was 8:15 and we were still watching muted ads and movie trivia.  Did you know that Jennifer Anistan had a picture she drew exhibited at the Met?  8:30... 8:40...  Ok, by now I was looking around in confusion and so were a few others.  Three of the most irritated among us ventured out for answers.  I was still in mild euphoria over muted ads and popcorn I could butter myself.  But those stalwart citizens retured with an usher who was mildly apologetic and carrying free passes.  A free pass is nothing to turn your nose up when it's worth $15.50.  Score!

The movie looked great on the IMAX screen.  All that talk about the hallway fight scene is not exaggeration.  Beautiful.

Privileges Restored

After losing my extra-special name badge since my last visit two years ago, I had to renew my reading privileges at the imposing and beautiful Huntington Library in San Marino.  There was a flurry of forms and initialing and signaturing and identification-showing, but the appointment proved a success.  I have been restored to my rightful place as a lowly reader who may enter the magic room and beg for quick views of highly classified and encrypted manuscripts concerning manly men who wore sombreros and camped out in the wild west of greater Phoenix.

I initialed some forms to the effect that I would take no photos of the magic room or of any fellow researchers.  This is a semi-official photo of the library itself.  More to follow.

Not in Kansas Anymore

For the first time in what feels like my adult life, I flew - even with a mid-morning connecting flight at the dreaded O'Hare - and everything went correctly!  I arrived in LAX unscathed in early afternoon and adopted my new pet, my Prius.  She's silver.  Aside from a few scuffs on her front bumper (what kind of jerk?!%*&#?), she's snazzy.

Palm trees and sunshine and traffic abound!  Excited!  I drove immediately to the shore.

I aimed for Santa Monica, and actually started to choke up when I caught my first glimpse of the Pacific in over two years.  Is it possible that this place is always this beautiful?  Bought a snack and headed up to Topanga Beach in Malibu.  I sat on the dunes just above the water and watched the wading birds and the surfers battle it out until the sun set.  A perfect afternoon.

Someone else's picture of the exact spot I was enjoying
at Topanga Beach.  I just didn't feel much like taking pictures today.
But who wants to read a blog with no pictures?

Same exact spot.  Promise! 
In fact I can tell you that these people have made some changes to their
amazing balcony.  It now has a glass enclosure instead of railings.

Staring at the Sea

Robert Moses Beach with my mom, July 2010

When I was growing up on Long Island, just 5 miles from the LI Sound to the north and 15 miles from the ocean to the south*, I liked the sea.  I associated it with fun and freedom and summertime, with the feeling of the endless open time ahead after school lets out for summer break.  The beach was for family days of swimming and building sand castles, of Fourth of July cookouts, and that one strange camping trip out on Montauk Point with neighbors and family friends and an unfortunate garbage-can-sized pot of fresh boiling lobsters.  Later, in high school, the ocean became a destination for teenage freedom.  A place for Steve Miller Band and Billy Joel (I'm not going to justify myself) concerts at the Jones Beach theater, which juts out over the ocean, creating the effect of watching the performer against the backdrop of the expansive dark ocean behind the stage.  A day for playing in the high waves with a group of friends, wearing an ill-advised fire-engine red bikini that half disappeared in the undertow.  And, more happily, a spot for an especially sweet night watching fireworks from a blanket on the sand with a high school boyfriend.

I always liked the beach, but for whatever reason, I wasn't in love.  Maybe I took it for granted.  But whenever I'm near the ocean now, especially in the years since I've been living in the Midwest, I know was mistaken.

*An admittedly patronizing but surprisingly necessary geography lesson for you non-NY readers - yes, Long Island is indeed an island.

                  I too am but a trail of drift and debris, 
                     I too leave little wrecks upon you, you fish-shaped island. 

– Walt Whitman, As I Ebb'd with the Ocean of Life