Lost Angeles

Tonight, I miss my hometown. Everyone who's been to LA may not understand this post. Don't take offense when I tell you this, but living in LA and visiting are two different things. It's true. LA is dirty and stinky and crowded and smoggy and sometimes dangerous AND there are fires, and when you're just passing through, that might be all you see. But you know what? I LOVE IT. Every last filthy crumb. Los Angeles has everything. It blooms all year...in every way possible. It has a pulse...like this constant throbbing for all things creative. It's so populated, but to my extroverted soul, having people around me everywhere I go is comforting. There's always someone to talk to.

I miss funny little things about it, like trying to spell Micheltourena (still can't) or trying to see if I can beat traffic by cutting through Dodger Stadium and winding around that road that passes under those huge oak trees. I love feeling the history everywhere. I love the noise. I love Spaceland and Swingers and the 4100. I love seeing Paris Hilton sitting next to me at breakfast in whatever trendy diner we're at. I love the rooftop pool at the Standard downtown and Canter's and the endless supply of art galleries. I love the Cannery and Santa Fe and 7th. I love the Melrose Triangle and Saturday mornings at Runyon Canyon with all the dogs and outdoor yoga. I love the Hollywood Bowl and Santee Alley, the Jewelry District, the Staples Center, and crazy all night hang outs and karioke bars in Korea Town.

I love the homemade radio stations that broadcast from the backyards of rebellious geniuses like Radio Free Silverlake. I love that people think to do things like broadcast their own freakin radio stations. I love how big LA is so that no matter how long you live there, you will never know all of it because it changes so much. By the time you get through it all and circle back around, the place you started has evolved. I love how you can go from an opera, to a movie premiere to an open mic to an all night deli all in one night. I love the Getty and NPR and the downtown library and the thrift stores and the farmers market and the canals and the boardwalk and the beach. I love the light in LA at 5am and 5pm. It's worth getting up for, or stopping to pay attention to. And yes, everything in LA is too expensive but it's worth it. I miss it. I guess I bleed blue. Or purple and gold. Will I ever feel this attached to Las Vegas? Does it just take time? To be fair, I did have 30 good years in LA. Maybe I just need a few more in Vegas. In fifty years, it might be just like LA. ;)

Another Day in Paradise

Do you remember the days when you attended a singles ward and there weren't any crying babies or screaming toddlers? I do. I loved it. I actually love Sacrament meeting. I remember I used to get so annoyed when girls in nearby pews were reporting details of their saturday night to their roommates/friends in barely hushed, giddy whispers...distracting me from the speaker. Now I'd kill to be able to sit in church with only a few collegiate giggles to block out so I could listen. Kill. Yeah, gone are the days. And it's not other kids that bother me...it's just my own. I am sure he's the loudest in the cultural hall.

Today was a day to highlight my pain. Pat is still out of town for work and I have to go to church with Harrison by myself. This is among my least favorite things to do. But you know how it is. You can't NOT go. Here's a play by play of how it went today:

We get there (almost) on time. Not bad considering Granmama left us :( this morning and we had to say our goodbyes before church. It's early enough to get a squishy seat in the back. Great. But we make the mistake of sitting in the middle of a row with large families on either side of us...ie: no easy way out. Harrison can do a lot of things well, and I'm so proud of him, but whispering isn't one of them. You can guess my lines: "Shhshhhh. No. We're in church. Reverent. Whisper. Quiet!" His went something like this:

After opening hymn: Claps loudly and says, "Yeaaaaaaa!"
During opening prayer: "Mommy! Mommy! Tractor Book!" "Where's new Tractor Book?"

Sacrament prayer: "Mommy, fruit 'nacks? Neeen bag (my diaper bag) fruit 'nacks?" Mind you, this is after the Bishop announced no more food in the cultural hall. We have like 300 little kids in the ward...it's just too many to keep things neat and we have to clean our own building so I guess they decided it'd be easier if there were no more eating in church. Harrison is having a hard time with this counsel.

Talk #1 (a Stake Representative): Harrison sees another little baby standing up on the bench of the pew and wants to do it too. And add jumping. But the little baby has inside shoes on, and can't really jump yet. Harrison has a hard time appreciating the differences and why I won't let him do it. I have to take him out. He's shouting, "No, no! NOOOOOO!" as we climb over the six person family to our right. I'm in steletoe boots and trying not to take out any of my friends with my heels or Harrison's flailing limbs as we leave the chapel.

After rest hymn, he stops crying long enough to clap loudly and say, "Yeaaaaaaa! Mommy, in there! Go in there!"

Now it's time for the Bishop's SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT to the ward: Harrison is screaming so loud in the mother's lounge (because I wouldn't let him back into the chapel until he was quiet, and he never got quiet) that I can't hear what the bishop's saying even with the volume turned all the way up on the room's speaker. *Sigh*

We're finally calm. He has quit asking me to "jump on pews" and "throw crayons" so we're ready to go back in.

Queue closing hymn: "YAAAAYYYY!!!"

Yeah. If anyone heard what the bishop said, please let me know next time you see me. I really wanted to know!


Who me? Cause trouble in church? Nevah!