Two and half years ago, when my Vespa was a new toy, I looooved the attention and curious questions from strangers. Answering the same questions over and over brought me nothing but joy.
"Can you take it on the freeway," they'd ask.
"I can, but I don't, because I like my life," I'd chirp back with a smile.
"How fast does it go?" This is usually the next question.
"Speedometer goes to 90, but my top speed is 60," I would cheerfully reply.
Those days are over people! Leave me the **** alone! These days the conversation goes more like this:
Them: Can you take that on the freeway?
Me: Yes (flatly sans even a hint of a smile)
Them: How fast does it go?
Me: 120 (at this point I scoot away if I can)
And why do you think it's okay to pull up beside me and ask how much I paid for it? It's such an invasion of my space and privacy. What if I hopped into the passenger side of your car when you're at a stop light and started firing questions at you about how fast it goes and how much you paid for it? I'm guessing that probably wouldn't be okay.
I know what you're thinking. It's my choice to commute on such a conversation piece, but that's just it - It's for my transportation not your entertainment. Please people - if you find it so interesting, there is a Vespa dealer on Ventura Boulevard in Sherman Oaks. They would be more than happy to answer all of your questions and you can let me get on with my day without answering the same asinine questions over and over again.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Sunday, June 21, 2009
The Guest House
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
Meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
As a guide from beyond.
~Rumi
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
Meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
As a guide from beyond.
~Rumi
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Please Don't Take My Sunshine
The weather report says we might see a little sun tomorrow here in LA. It's literally been 6 days since I've seen the sun and I'm on the verge of harikiri. I've never missed the sun so much in my life. In fact, I don't think I went this many days in a row in England without seeing sun. I feel like I've relocated to Seattle without the hassle of packing and moving.
It might be difficult to feel pity considering Southern California has sunny skies 99% of the time, but let there be no doubt: There is suffering. SIX DAYS IN A ROW... No weaning period, just BAM! No sun... My mood has taken a serious nose dive. I had a breakdown in yoga class earlier in the week, alligator tears streaming onto my mat as I hid my face in pigeon pose. Then there was the temper tantrum at the barn yesterday when I had to wait in line to turn my horse out... Oh, yes. There is suffering.
Normally I roll out of bed ready to rock at 7:00 a.m., but for the last 3 days I didn't get out of bed until after 9:00. What pagan god to I have make a sacrificial offer to? How many sun salutations do I have to perform? Please! Just tell me. I'll do it.
It might be difficult to feel pity considering Southern California has sunny skies 99% of the time, but let there be no doubt: There is suffering. SIX DAYS IN A ROW... No weaning period, just BAM! No sun... My mood has taken a serious nose dive. I had a breakdown in yoga class earlier in the week, alligator tears streaming onto my mat as I hid my face in pigeon pose. Then there was the temper tantrum at the barn yesterday when I had to wait in line to turn my horse out... Oh, yes. There is suffering.
Normally I roll out of bed ready to rock at 7:00 a.m., but for the last 3 days I didn't get out of bed until after 9:00. What pagan god to I have make a sacrificial offer to? How many sun salutations do I have to perform? Please! Just tell me. I'll do it.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Near Death Experience
I nearly died yesterday. Seriously, I came within inches of being plowed down in an intersection by an old man that ran a red light. It's a strange intersection at Victory and Riverside on the border of Burbank and Glendale, but I definitely had a green light. I was in the middle of the intersection when I heard screeching tires and saw the front of a black car in my side mirrors. Had I seen him sooner and braked out of panic, I would no doubt be dead or seriously maimed.
To make matters worse he stopped beside me at the next light. He was quite old and could barely see over the steering wheel.
"Hey," he said, "you need to watch where you're going."
Incredulously, I replied, "No YOU need to watch where YOU'RE going. I had a green light!"
"No, I had an arrow... a green arrow..." He said it as if he wasn't quite sure. "That's why I went because I had a green arrow."
He was turning left onto Riverside from Victory, I know for sure there isn't an arrow there because I avoid going that way for that very reason. The intersection is wide and sort of slanted. He no doubt got confused by the arrow intended for cars going in my direction.
I was stunned but strangely calm after it was over. I couldn't stop thinking about what a near miss it was. I've been riding my Vespa around LA for over two years now without incident. This is the first really scary thing that's happened to me. I'm a little unnerved for sure. I'll keep riding because I love it, but I'll certainly be more cautious when entering intersections.
To make matters worse he stopped beside me at the next light. He was quite old and could barely see over the steering wheel.
"Hey," he said, "you need to watch where you're going."
Incredulously, I replied, "No YOU need to watch where YOU'RE going. I had a green light!"
"No, I had an arrow... a green arrow..." He said it as if he wasn't quite sure. "That's why I went because I had a green arrow."
He was turning left onto Riverside from Victory, I know for sure there isn't an arrow there because I avoid going that way for that very reason. The intersection is wide and sort of slanted. He no doubt got confused by the arrow intended for cars going in my direction.
I was stunned but strangely calm after it was over. I couldn't stop thinking about what a near miss it was. I've been riding my Vespa around LA for over two years now without incident. This is the first really scary thing that's happened to me. I'm a little unnerved for sure. I'll keep riding because I love it, but I'll certainly be more cautious when entering intersections.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
OK Starbucks: You Win.
The hunt for a great coffee house is no easy task in my neck of the woods. Surely there must be a plethora of cool mom and pop coffee shops in Hollywood and Los Feliz, but not in Glendale and Burbank. It took me several months to find a place that satisfied my coffee shop snobbery. Romancing the Bean had nearly everything I wanted - mellow tunes playing, ceramic cups instead of paper that no doubt gives the coffee a different taste, free WiFi, and people just hanging out reading, writing, and socializing. Finally I had found a place I could go to concentrate on work without the distractions at home.
Imagine my dismay when I was greeted by a big ole “For Lease” sign in their window yesterday. I guess they, too, have fallen victim to the plummeting economy. With my head hanging low in disappointment, I schlepped my book bag back to my Vespa. I have a lot to do, I thought. Where the hell can I go? Desperate, I ended up at the Starbucks a few blocks from my house. Try as I might to resist the corporate coffee monster, sometimes to resist is futile.
Ordering from the barista I noticed a wall of white coffee cups. My heart lept with joy. “Grande soy cappacino in a real cup, please!” I found a nice table tucked in the corner near a window. Groovy jazz tunes played softly over the PA. The place was full of the right mix of energy – a few folks coming and going, and others, like me, hunkering down for a while. I had no choice but to acquiese to Starbucks. I know they are the Walmart of the coffee world, and I realize that they played a role in the demise of Romancing the Bean. But… they do do some good works in the world with their free trade coffee promotin and feeding children in Rowanda. I had to face the fact that I was getting what I needed, right there in a Starbucks.
Until further notice: Starbucks, you win.
Imagine my dismay when I was greeted by a big ole “For Lease” sign in their window yesterday. I guess they, too, have fallen victim to the plummeting economy. With my head hanging low in disappointment, I schlepped my book bag back to my Vespa. I have a lot to do, I thought. Where the hell can I go? Desperate, I ended up at the Starbucks a few blocks from my house. Try as I might to resist the corporate coffee monster, sometimes to resist is futile.
Ordering from the barista I noticed a wall of white coffee cups. My heart lept with joy. “Grande soy cappacino in a real cup, please!” I found a nice table tucked in the corner near a window. Groovy jazz tunes played softly over the PA. The place was full of the right mix of energy – a few folks coming and going, and others, like me, hunkering down for a while. I had no choice but to acquiese to Starbucks. I know they are the Walmart of the coffee world, and I realize that they played a role in the demise of Romancing the Bean. But… they do do some good works in the world with their free trade coffee promotin and feeding children in Rowanda. I had to face the fact that I was getting what I needed, right there in a Starbucks.
Until further notice: Starbucks, you win.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Friday, February 13, 2009
Dry Pub Crawl
It was my first dry (well, nearly) pub crawl. We picked up his friend at LAX around 7:00 p.m. after a harrowing commute from Glendale. Navigating the LA streets on my Vespa has taught me that there are better ways to get to a place than getting on a freeway. We slipped through the streets in the rental car until we were past downtown where I thought it would be safe to hop on the freeway for the rest of the journey, and it was except for the 8 times we missed our exit, and the off ramp that we took on two wheels because he was so involved in the point he was making that he forgot to slow down.
In any event, we finally we made it to LAX around 7:00 and I had the perfect plan for a man I’d been informed “likes his vodka.”
“We’re going to the Liquid Kitty…”
The Liquid Kitty is a dark, moody bar on Pico with a neon martini and cigarette sign out front. It’s been a few years and my recollection a little rusty but I figured I could find it. After about 20 minutes of driving down Sepulveda I realized we were in Manhattan Beach. Oops.
“Um, I think we need to turn around,” I said sheepishly.
“No problem. Hey, if we are good at one thing – it is turning around.”
It seemed so easy. The Infinity rental was turned around and we cruised all the way to Pico via Sepulveda, a half hour drive more or less, where we took a left. We drove a few blocks but no Kitty. Hmm… We turned a drove the other way a bit and finally I called 411 and was informed that there was no listing for the Kitty.
“Oh no! It can’t be! The Liquid Kitty would never go out of business…”
With no direction and no response from the alcoholics in my life, we had no choice but to move on. And move on we did. We moved past, or a least close proximity of:
Bar Marmont (we decided too chi-chi)
Saddle Back Ranch (no one wanted to ride the bull)
Coach and Horses (I couldn’t remember if it was on Hollywood or Sunset – give me a break I was probably drunk the last time I was there!)
The Frolic Room (sigh…)
But finally we found one of our destinations: Big Wangs! Get your mind out of the gutter, it’s a beer and hot wing joint, which to our dismay was filled to capacity with young, drunk, Lakers’ fans, snarffling chicken wings as far as the eye could see. But we’d come so far… It wouldn’t be right not to have at least one Salty Dog (a double of course), except for our determined driver.
To wrap up our (nearly) dry pub crawl we found ourselves a nice cozy booth at JAX in Glendale – named after the brewery in New Orleans, where we had a good meal to end our three hour tour of Los Angeles in which my visitors took in the following sights:
LAX
Manhattan Beach
Beverly Hills
Rodeo Drive
The Sunset Strip
Hollywood Blvd
Mann’s Chinese Theatre
I made the suggestion of writing a book on pub crawling LA.
“You might want to invest in a map.”
In any event, we finally we made it to LAX around 7:00 and I had the perfect plan for a man I’d been informed “likes his vodka.”
“We’re going to the Liquid Kitty…”
The Liquid Kitty is a dark, moody bar on Pico with a neon martini and cigarette sign out front. It’s been a few years and my recollection a little rusty but I figured I could find it. After about 20 minutes of driving down Sepulveda I realized we were in Manhattan Beach. Oops.
“Um, I think we need to turn around,” I said sheepishly.
“No problem. Hey, if we are good at one thing – it is turning around.”
It seemed so easy. The Infinity rental was turned around and we cruised all the way to Pico via Sepulveda, a half hour drive more or less, where we took a left. We drove a few blocks but no Kitty. Hmm… We turned a drove the other way a bit and finally I called 411 and was informed that there was no listing for the Kitty.
“Oh no! It can’t be! The Liquid Kitty would never go out of business…”
With no direction and no response from the alcoholics in my life, we had no choice but to move on. And move on we did. We moved past, or a least close proximity of:
Bar Marmont (we decided too chi-chi)
Saddle Back Ranch (no one wanted to ride the bull)
Coach and Horses (I couldn’t remember if it was on Hollywood or Sunset – give me a break I was probably drunk the last time I was there!)
The Frolic Room (sigh…)
But finally we found one of our destinations: Big Wangs! Get your mind out of the gutter, it’s a beer and hot wing joint, which to our dismay was filled to capacity with young, drunk, Lakers’ fans, snarffling chicken wings as far as the eye could see. But we’d come so far… It wouldn’t be right not to have at least one Salty Dog (a double of course), except for our determined driver.
To wrap up our (nearly) dry pub crawl we found ourselves a nice cozy booth at JAX in Glendale – named after the brewery in New Orleans, where we had a good meal to end our three hour tour of Los Angeles in which my visitors took in the following sights:
LAX
Manhattan Beach
Beverly Hills
Rodeo Drive
The Sunset Strip
Hollywood Blvd
Mann’s Chinese Theatre
I made the suggestion of writing a book on pub crawling LA.
“You might want to invest in a map.”
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