Um, Hello

So, yesterday I was on the go all day, busy with the stuff people like me obsess over. First the grocery store; oh the challenges (note the semi-colon...who knows if its placement is correct, we intellectuals just use them at will). Then off to Sperlings Nursery. Sperlings tries to sell the unsuspecting public on their location, but the fact of the matter is they're on the 101, and it's so sodding hot there; (semi-colon!) not at all the oasis their website implies. But, since I'm all about paying top dollar with only a seven-day guarantee on any plants I purchase, that was my destination. I was headed over to a friend's for lunch and have decided lately that when I dine anywhere, I take a plant that my hostess has to plant in dirt. It's not enough that they're cooking for me, I want to check out their gardening acumen as well and guilt them into thinking about me (cursing me?) every time they have to throw water the way of the plant.

Then it was lunchtime! YAY!!!! Air conditioning, homecooked yummy food, interesting ladies. The annoying chirp (no idea how to change it) of my cell interrupted our intellectual chatter..."OHMYGOD this salad is delicious...did you actually roast that chicken yourself...in this heat? the homemade lemon cake...to die for...fresh blueberries, room temperature...perfect!...oh fuck, I'm having a(nother) hot flash." Oh yes, and then the chirp of the phone and me rummaging through my huge bag trying to find it and remembering that I'd slipped it into this clever little zipper compartment especially designed for cell phones. "Hello... hello...yeah, well, just throw anything that looks marginally untidy into a big box and toss the box into the walk-in closet." Me responding to husband informing me that location company wants to scout our house for a shoot. We like the mnoney they throw our way and know how to fine-tune our home to minimalism in no time flat. Then he began saying something about our daughter Jane's house, all sorts of excitement, helicopter, bullhorn, two suspects, everything/everyone is fine." Um, excuse me?

Time for me to head back up the little mountain to our home because you can't use the words helicopter, bullhorn, suspects, police in one sentence without catching my immediate attention. Those very words applied to my daughter's house yesterday morning. She lives in Hollywood in a cute little Spanish bungalow that is close to La Brea and closer to Melrose. Nice, but edgy. Pretty, but with an underbelly. Family friendly, but not. In other words, it ain't the suburbs.

To be continued...