Brrrrrrrrr!

It is so cold. Not so much outside--but in our apartment! Our landlord either secretly rented us a meat locker...OR...I have become spoiled by the sunny warm weather we usually have here in LA. Two years ago when we first moved here, the "winter" seemed so mild, laughable really.  Now, when the temp drops even a degree below 60 it's time to whip out the parka and mittens. When we first moved here, I would completely make fun of those people: the women (and men) in gloves, scarves, beanies, the whole nine yards in 50-60 degree weather! I use to think those people were just looking for an excuse to wear the latest trend in coats and scarves. I would roll my eyes in disgust everytime I saw one of them. They don't know what real cold weather is I would think. Not that I was really an authority in cold weather coming from Texas. But at the time, I did know that 60 degrees defintiely did not call for a heavy winter coat. Well, now, unfortunately, I think I would disagree with my former.  Yes, now I realize they were probably just cold. I have lost any and all tolerance for cold weather.

A lot of apartments (including ours) this close to the beach do not come equipped with central heat and air. Or any kind of heater or air conditioner for that matter. Frankly, you hardly ever need either because the weather is so agreeable. The only option we do have for heat is an ancient gas heater (circa 1955), and I do not trust that thing. Not one bit. The one (and only) time we did attempt to light the thing it almost completely cinged off all of Bryan's body hair and half of the hallway. We concluded that one stab at lighting the beast was enough...we would just layer to keep warm. So much for that new lingerie! Ha. ha.

Please note the menacing wall heater to the right.

The real turning point was a couple of days ago when I turned to Bryan in bed as we were waking up. "Good morning," I said. He looked at me puzzled, rubbed his eyes and said "say that again." Huh? "Good morning," I said again. No, my morning breath was not flaming...It was so cold in our bedroom you could see my breath! And his! Is this supposed to happen in sunny Southern California? Needless to say; we are investing in electric blankets and possibly snuggies. Okay, we probably won't go for the Snuggies. But now, given the circumstance; the luxury of being able to answer the phone, read a book or eat my favorite snack without messing up my blanket...doesn't sound so bad!

Getting a Little Verklempt

Okay, so this has nothing to do with living in Southern California...but lately, everytime I hear a good song, I get a little choked up. Especially, when I hear one of three performers/bands: Coldplay, The Killers or Garth Brooks (yes, I like Garth Brooks).

It doesn't really matter which song it is, if it's from one of those three--I just get a little weepy. Not in a bad way; but in a happy-to-be-alive kind of way. It's amazing what a good song can do to any given moment in your life. Whatever the event, whatever the situation, the memory will always and forever be associated with that very song, lyric, chord or tune. Etched into your character forever. It's kind of cool, really.

Visions from your past can reappear, smells, tastes--things you completely forgot about are suddenly brought back to life. Good and bad memories; sometimes it doesn't even matter which. It's just comforting to know that recollection is still alive somewhere among the cobwebs.

For me, reviving those memories, whether they are: good, bad, regretful, embarrassing, fun or happy always make me feel a sense of gratitude. Grateful for the experiences I have had; good and bad. Thankful for the people that have come and gone in my life; positive and negative. Pleased with the choices I have made. And...relieved to know there are many more momentous songs to come.

Easy Like Sunday Morning

Van Morrison plays on Pandora as my husband makes pancakes on a nice lazy Sunday morning. I love Sundays. There was a time when I use to dread Sunday's, I associated them with going back to work. After 1PM on a Sunday, I would pretty much consider the weekend over. Talk about not utilizing my time. Now, Sundays are quite possibly my favorite day of the week. About three years ago I lost the ability to sleep in. It's a true rareity if I can make it past 7AM on a Saturday or Sunday morning. Even if I am hungover, which is also rare now that I have lost my tolerance for alcohol. It's amazing how quick your mind and body can change from age 25 to 29. Anyway, getting up early on the weekends has its benefits: it extends the weekend (to a degree), you get to see a beautiful sunrise, the streets are quiet, and on this particular Sunday the celebrities were out! Living in LA (and working where I do) has made me kind of numb to seeing celebrities. Afterall, at the end of the day they are just people with a job to do. But, I would be lying if I said it wasn't still fun to spot a good one!

After a heavy pancake breakfast and about an hour of Van Morrison, my hubs and I decided to take ride on our new beach cruisers. Which, by the way, might be the most fun purchase I have made in my adult life, so far. You really forget how fun riding a bicycle really is (especially with no hands!). We headed down our usual route from Santa Monica towards Malibu. A normally crowded tourist laden path was tranquil and beautiful on this chilly January morning. In spite of the looming clouds, the sun was peeking out and dancing with the small waves. Not too much foot traffic; just the occasional jogger, fellow bicyclist or local taking a stroll armed with a fresh Starbucks.

As we pedaled along I was enjoying the beauty of the Pacific Palisades and becoming lost in my thoughts. Suddenly, I see sand flying and hear brakes screeching. I focus my attention back on the path to see my husband looking frantic. I pedal a little faster to catch up to where he was at. "Tom Hanks!" he says. "That was Tom Hanks!" much louder this time. Sure enough, it was him--literally less than five feet away from us walking along listening to his iPod. Immediately I got embarrassed. What if he heard Bryan!? We would look like total tools. Luckily, he didn't. Or if he did, he ignored us.

After regaining our composure we continued down the path not even five minutes later...Johnny Knoxville, after that Colin Hanks, ten minutes later Jeff Probst. We were on a celebrity sighting roll! It was really getting kind of ironic, we started taking bets on who we'd see next. As we reached the end of the bike path towards Malibu, we turned around and headed to Venice Beach. It was reaching mid-morning at this point and the crowds were starting to pour in. A frisbee tournament was setting up on the beach and tourists were swarming the pier.

We were feeling a little parched and decided to stop by a beach cafe for a $4 bottle of water...uh, yeah...Anyways, as we were quenching our thirst I noticed a homeless looking guy getting closer and closer. Great, another panhandler I thought to myself.  He had on black basketball shorts, an oversized plaid jacket, outdated sneakers and calf high black socks. His hair and manscaping looked pretty well kept and clean for a homeless guy; but the outfit reaked of unemployment (or so I thought). The man got closer still. He looked lost, like he had just woke up in some random place and had no idea where he was at or how he got there. My husband leaned in and whispered "that's Josh Brolin." What!? Not the stud muffin from Goonies, no way. I looked closer...it was him. In spite of the fact that his outfit looked like he had just raided a goodwill donation truck--it was him. Really, the outfit should have come as no surprise, quite a few celebrities seem to dress like that out here. I guess it is hobo chic or something. Not like I am any kind of connoisseur of high fashion--I just find it funny. Oh, and as you may have guessed, he was definitely not panhandling.

Later that evening we were watching the Golden Globes and saw our fellow morning beachgoers; Tom Hanks and Josh Brolin. Mr. Brolin looked dapper and nothing like the hobo alter ego he had clearly left behind at the beach. Hollywood is a funny place.

I have thought about starting a blog for years now. In fact, I am pretty sure I started one back in college, blogged like two times, forgot the password and never looked back. I don't really have an agenda for this thing. No amazing recipes to share or baby pictures to post (yet). To be honest; I need to quit wasting so much time staring at other people's lives on Facebook, when I have a pretty great one going myself. Seriously, though...that thing is addictive!  I mean, I can literally waste a good four hours staring at Facebook without even realizing how much time has passed. Sometimes I find myself just sitting there waiting for someone to post something new or update their status. Pathetic, I know.  So I am taking control of my free time and going to blog instead (hopefully this counts as time well spent). Not to say I won't have to get a quick Facebook fix every now and then...quitting cold turkey would just be too hard.