Not too long ago I was ear-wormed with Sheryl Crow's "All I Wanna Do" song as I was headed off to LA la land to visit my mami.
Due to lack of planning (who me?) and last minute flight sales (yey) I was able to book direct flight round trip tickets for almost nothing (seriously, I got to use my points for the first time in four years for a round trip ticket! SCORE!) Except...and this is a biggie. My flights were at the crack of dawn, both going and coming. Okay not the flights themselves, but the wake-up time for the flights. URGH.
Anywho...so sitting there at Gate 35 in the predawn hours of LA, I realized the extra bit of humor (whether or not intentional I have no idea, my 5AM google-fu brought up NOTHING) regarding the lyric: Until the sun comes up over Santa Monica Boulevard.
Ummmm, last I checked, Santa Monica Blvd runs westish towards the water then kinda disappears in the East around Echo Park. The sun? Does not come up over this street in the way my head pictures it...you know, like crossing across it...you know you're picturing something similar. Or is it just me? It could very well be. This was a morning involving a 3:45 AM wake up call. URGH.
I don't know how you all measure fun, but I did have it. I spent time with my mom and saw a few friends that I'd either not gotten a chance to see due to emergency room/doctor's visits last time, compression of time that just did not work my way, or some other big bad.
This time around the big bad was/were Jacaranda trees. Before last year, the last time I was in LA for an extended period of time in May (more than a weekend) I was 18 years old. Apparently since that time I've developed allergies to Jacaranda trees...or something similarly nature-like. They were trying to kill me. Maybe I shouldn't have said they smelled like pee when we walked passed Walt Disney's original house? Who knows. All I do know is that the sinus pressure, watery eyes, and ohmygod runny nose was enough to make me wuss on on my last two outings...which made me a little sad, but determined to see these folks in the fall. You know, when everything that tried to kill me is dying (buahaha! My revenge! Or something.)
Me on no sleep = kinda random blogger posts, sorry. In the same vein, Tom Bihn bags rock! Except they are not as water tight when you spill your Chai Tea Latte INTO them...cuz you know, you had the flap open so you could pull out your laptop to do veryimportanthings like, um, blog about suns and boulevards, ahem.