a week of glorious tatters

our first week in LA has once again seemed to compress time or expand itself into some unrealized definition of too much packed into too few days.  Sure, Monday and Tuesday were quiet, on the whole, with only our little patch of things we'd carried with us across the border finally unpacked and set up and I felt like we were in a holding pattern, yearning for the stuff still packed into the POD that wouldn't be delivered until Wednesday.  Trying to establish routines of dog walking and meal taking and all of those little habits you do when you're living somewhere and you're mostly comfortable with it.  Sleeping on the mattress on the floor was beginning to lose its glamor and I yearned for our bed, and the office looked bare without any books I hadn't read and reread a hundred times, and we kept wanting to designate where everything would go even though we didn't have it yet.

( And then Wednesday came and the apartment turned into a sea of boxes. )

But it was Saturday when LA welcomed us back with ... that special way it has that makes you love it and kind of wonder what the hell is going on all at the same time. Our friends' little brother was having this gallery opening. Even though it was VIP only we thought (or imagined) it was going to be one of those little places you find out in Los Feliz where it's a bit of a coffee shop art gallery and a mix of hippies to hipsters all wandering around pontificating, with smoke breaks and possibly a little wine inside.  Instead we ended up in a HUGE space, dropping my poor little dirty toyota corolla off to the valet surrounded by sparkling clean bmws and suvs and sports cars, with the people in front of us in line in suits and party dresses, and finally for once in four years i wasn't actually overdressed for an event.  Not to say there weren't hippies and hipsters, but mixed in with them all were suits and investors and glitterati, and low and behold it was an actual ART SHOW. Jeremy was even featured as part of the LA Times' article about the anniversary of Sharon Tate's death yesterday morning.  And since it was kind of family, it was fun to wander through the crowds and then get to hug people I actually knew and hadn't seen in years, do a little of that thing you do where you introduce yourself because people are too lazy to do it for you, and oggle the art.  We all three decided we liked the smaller pieces best, though each of us had a slightly different one as favorite (but I won't try to describe because it doesn't work with art, I don't think).  Best part of the evening was after when we escaped with H & M and another couple of people to a little bar down the street and stole their back room for a drinks.  And just as they were yawning, so were we, so we didn't burn candle at both ends (which left us open for more unpacking Sunday - why, oh why, do we have so much crap?)

more soon, since i seem to be a writing yo yo