We have our tickets now. Two tickets. Each of us – both of us – have tickets …
… to London.
We are committed. We didn’t have tickets until yesterday. Until yesterday there was the slim chance we could back out, could push back our departure date yet again. But we’re locked in now.
We deliberately waxed nostalgic on our drive back from PetCo this afternoon. We had bought a new pet carrier for Cat #3 and were both feeling it – the keen reality of the move.
How wonderful that we live on the shores of Griffith Park, within line of sight of the Griffith Observatory. I could look out the window and see the Observatory now. Hold on. I’m going to do it …
… HOLY CRAP! The Observatory is in FLAMES!!!
Ha ha! Just joshin’!
The Observatory is still there looking down on all of us, and still grumbling about how all anyone ever asks is “So what was James Dean really like?” The Observatory just hates that. “Why don’t you ever ask about my periscope? Or my fascinating collection of moon rocks? Why don’t you ask me if the recent renovation was painful? No one cares. It’s just always ‘James Dean, James Dean, James Dean’!”
Come to think of it, the Observatory is kind of whiner. I’m not going to miss the Observatory at all.
But I will miss…
- good Mexican food
- beautiful, beautiful, beautiful people
- the New Beverly Cinema
- endless coffee shops
- Golden Apple Comics
- In & Out Burger
- House of Pies
- Latino culture
- our big Los Feliz apartment
- The Pacific