Yesterday, C came home with the most epic new toy ever.
Archive for the ‘my life’ Category
I’ve been in a pretty sassy mood today, which means that it is the perfect time for another edition of:
1. Sorry I’m not sorry for judging girls who wear Uggs. I will admit, I had a pair, back when I was in college. In 2003. When I was rocking the whole “beach bum” (emphasis on bum) look. People told me then that they were hideous, and they were right.
That was 10 years ago. If you are still wearing them today, you truly have no excuse. You look stupid, especially if you wear them with shorts or a skirt. They make your legs look fat even. Don’t tell me they are comfy, because so are house slippers. Just stop.
2. Sorry I’m not sorry for polishing off that bottle of wine on a week night. It was delicious and I needed that.
3. Sorry I’m not sorry for cursing my Fed Ex delivery man this morning. He was long gone and didn’t hear me, but I wish he had.
Before I moved to Huntington Beach to live with my man, I lived in Downtown Fullerton. I still work in Fullerton, but it’s been awhile since I’ve roamed around my old neighborhood downtown.
So today I drove in to unpack all of the books that have been in a storage unit for the past 4 years. There will be more on that later, I promise.
I decided to make a day of it, to have lunch at one of my favorite places, check out some of the great shops, and stroll down the tree lined streets that I once called home.
I don’t know of another town quite like Fullerton. With CSUF, a large community college, and a smaller private college, you could call it a bit of a college town in a north corner of Orange County. But it’s also a sweet suburb and artsy enclave.
Many older buildings have been preserved so that colonial revival and art decco buildings from the 1930’s are next to modern strip malls; residential streets are lined with Craftsman bungalows, though a few blocks away you might find a McMansion or two.
You’ll probably see some homeless folks napping on a bench. The downtown area is known for its bars and restaurants, so if you’re unfortunate enough to make it out on a weekend night, you’ll run into the trashy Inland Empire crowd who come in on lifted trucks and fill the streets with cigarette butts and vomit.
But on a Friday afternoon, it is absolutely lovely.
I stopped in for lunch at one of my all time favorites, Les Amis. It’s a Lebanese restaurant that taught me to really enjoy Lebanese pickles, and it’s where I go when I am craving Zaatar (it’s hard to find!).
The decor of the cafe is exotic, chic, and dreamy.
I wandered around some of my favorite spots, like the Villa Del Sol courtyard.
I hear they’re converting the top floors of this building across the street to lofts; how lovely would that be?!
I popped into this new shop on Harbor called Oh Hello Friend.
Take a look at the blog and shop! As I looked around, I wanted to buy ALL THE THINGS! Everything in there was lovely and adorable.Since I am trying to save money (my tax bill is obscene this year!) I settled on only buying an ancient copy of Emereson’s essays and a stop watch necklace, seen here.
I bought that pair of Seven for all Mankind jeans across the street at Buffalo Exchange, too!
After waving to my old apartment, it was time to fill the car up with books and head down the 57 back home.
I rented a room in the unit on the top right, where there is a For Rent sign.
Luckily for me, I couldn’t fit all of the boxes in my car, so I will have to make another trip tomorrow. 😉
Last night I finally got around to watching the most recent episode of Downton Abbey. That means I spent three days of having to interrupt people with “No no no! I haven’t seen it yet! Stop!” to avoid spoilers. (BTW, thanks a lot, New York Times. You’d think they’d avoid giving spoilers in a headline in the Monday edition!)
You see, the real problem is that when it comes to good television, I am over-committed on Sunday nights. I don’t even watch that much T.V., but now my two obsessions, Downton Abbey and The Walking Dead are both airing new episodes on Sundays. And you have to know that when I say obsessed, I mean it– watching an episode means no phone, no laptop or tablet, lights dimmed, wrapped in a blankie with snacks and drinks within reach. When I watch an episode, it is one of the few moments of the week when I am not multi-tasking. So amen for DVR, because I would not want to have to make a choice between the two.
But when it comes to choosing between The Walking Dead and Downton Abbey, I’d bet that most people could pick a side rather quickly and easily– shooting zombies or debating the financial future of your estate? Scavenging for food, or having your servant dress you for dinner? I mean, you couldn’t get further from the zombie apocalypse than a British period drama set in Yorkshire, right?
I admit that I have eclectic taste, but maybe in some ways, the shows aren’t all that different from each other…
The same thing goes in Merry ol’ England. Cybill pulled through the labor and the baby was beautiful and we all breathed a sigh of relief, until nope, Eclampsia. The village doctor was right, and like that, she dies in front of everyone.
You thought things were turning around in Downton, with Mary’s pregnancy and the new plans to modernize? Too bad, Matthew’s gone now.
The producers of both shows are not at all afraid to change the opening credits. You can become attached to characters all you want, but there’s a good chance that they will die in the next episodes. Even though this leaves me cursing my TV, I have to admit that it increases the drama and keeps me coming back for more.
Now obviously the changes are more stark in Georgia, and characters are just hoping to survive one day to the next there. But the Zombie apocalypse means that characters get to virtually reinvent themselves, and their contributions to the group define who they are. They have serious roles to fill within the group, whether it is standing guard or preparing food for everyone. It doesn’t matter how squeamish or weak a character was pre-apocalypse; even little Beth (Hershel’s daughter) is now a pretty good shot. Maggie has no problem stabbing a zombie in the skull. The wimpy pizza guy is now a man who kills zombies with their own bones. And the little kid shot his mother for christ’s sake! Every character discovers a time and a place when they need to step up, whether they are prepared to or not.
I have lived my whole life in Southern California, and until yesterday, I had never visited the famed Chinatown. I’ve seen the movie and driven past it, but never walked around the neighborhood.
We started the day by meeting up at Union Station.
It really is one of the world’s most beautiful train stations, and if you ever get the chance to, I suggest dining at Traxx, or at least having a drink in the famous bar. We stopped into the bar for a scotch, then set out for lunch and the parade.
Since Olvera street is also so close by, we decided to stop in for some Mexican food. If fajitas and margaritas on a patio on a balmy February afternoon in L.A. isn’t your idea of a great Saturday afternoon, then… I don’t know what to tell you. Because it was wonderful.
We figured at some point we should catch the parade, so we walked a couple of blocks over to where the parade route ends.
While scurrying across the street after the light changed, I caught the edge of my foot on a crack in the pavement and twisted my ankle sharply. Maybe it had something to do with the margaritas? All I know is that it hurt, but I limped along the rest of the day and refused to hold the group back.
Since we were in the middle of Chinatown, we thought it was the only time appropriate to buy hats and parasols. Now, I know the hats are technically Vietnamese and not Chinese (a woman at the beer garden made this very clear to Cliff. He asked if they were offensive. “Offensive? Yes.” Was her reply. D’oh. But they did protect us from the sun, and they were selling them on every corner, so…).
We ended up finding a beer garden (I had to bow out of the drinking by that point) where local bands were playing.
We spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around Chinatown, sampling some of what the food trucks had to offer, dancing with little girls with parasols.
It doesn’t look to be a sprain, but unfortunately it looks like it might set me back about a week in my marathon training. D’oh!
Nonetheless, Chinatown did not disappoint. I may be biased, but Los Angeles really is one of the most unique, eclectic, exciting, wonderful cities in the world.
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So Valentine’s Day.