Annual Mileage

I spent the holiest day of the year contemplating my life while driving to the dealership to get my 5,000 mile tune-up. It had been 316 days since I "moved" to L.A. In quotes because I've been in the Jet Blue NeverNeverLand of bicoastal limbo for most of those moons.

All the milestones of Los Angeles - getting a car, an apartment, a writing gig - didn't wed me to this place like I thought they would. Then I thought "Once my girlfriend and cat join me out West, THEN I'll really be here." But packing up my NYC apartment to sublet two weeks ago was a terribly final act. Now each trip East will be a visit, not to "Home." The day we left with packed bags felt like the true Yom Kippur. I surveyed the eerily empty space and thought of the loved ones lost, the loved ones ill, the loved ones far away and the amends I need to make. During the High Holy Days I write up a list, New Year's resolutions of sorts. This year I scribbled mine, behind schedule, while sitting in Toyota of Orange's service waiting room.

I began 5768 with family and the big move, only to fall down en route to an important meeting and be whisked away in an ambulance. I'm not a fan of hospitals, but at least nothing was broken and I got a nifty pair of crutches that my sweetie insisted I actually use.

Immobile on the couch, I got a chance to catch up on Tivo and contemplate being inscribed in the Book of Life for the coming year. Mostly, I just prayed that my ailing friends and family recover and return to life in all senses. And that no more of my beloved pets would perish in the near future. It's been a bumpy 5,000+ miles.

You know what was at the end of this stormy Yom Kippur? A freakin' rainbow over the 101. Now THAT'S the way to start off the year right.

Plated

Just as my odometer turns over it's first 1,000 miles, on the last day of mail delivery in 2006 (until Weds, actually - R.I.P. Gerald R. Ford), 51 days since the big move, the California DMV bestows upon me the official gift of the road: 2 license plates and registration stickers for my dusty little car (Note to self: check out the $2 car wash place on Santa Monica Blvd...). Now, I may be over my ideal weight, but I've never worn a 5XL; until now, that is. Just looking at that picture takes me back to the late nights of homework ignored to watch "L.A. Law" (not _just_ because it featured the first prime-time lesbian kiss - it was a well-written show before Rosalyn fell down the elevator shaft). You know that iconic opening title sequence kicked-off by the trunk closing shot of a California license plate?

According to IMDB's trivia page, "the license plate in the beginning of the opening credits was during
the first seven seasons mounted on the rear of a Jaguar, but for the
eight and finale season it changed to being mounted on a Bentley
Continental R. The Bentley Continental R was mentioned for several of
the first episodes of the season when Arnie Becker was thinking of
buying one, and finally received one as a gift in episode 3 of the
eighth season." Mine's mounted on a Toyota Yaris Liftback. Can't wait for the opening credits of my first TV show...

Attention Must Be Paid

Either I'm paid little to no attention or am the subject of unwanted attention here in L.A.

I went to see a brilliant writer friend perform at Wordamara the other night. It was a spoken-word evening filled with witty, poignant, talented writers and performers. There were a few familiar folks in the audience, and we exchanged pleasantries, but I was struck at how invisible I was to the new people to whom I was introduced. Sure, they didn't know me, but to be literally sitting in between my friend and the "new" people and be talked over - completely and utterly ignored (remember, I have nothing to contribute in terms of job opportunities, gossip or sex as far as they know). They were actually leaning on me to get closer to each other, bitching about whatever literary goings-on needed to be bitched about, as if I was bar stool. No eye contact, no acknowledgment that I was human, or even present, despite the recent introduction. Only the bartender noticed me and my wedged-in status, pouring multitudinous refills of Coke (G-d bless him...). I'm not asking for an instant fawning entourage, but common courtesy might be a little nice. At least don't treat me like furniture, and uncomfortable furniture, at that. As for the show, well, it was quite long and entertaining.

On my way to the launch party for OutFest's 25th Anniversary year at the Egyptian, I got way too much attention from the LASD. That's right; I got pulled over by the cops. Slightly disoriented by the traffic, Xmas lights and the insistent voice on my TomTom One to "Turn Left NOW," I made a left turn on Hollywood Blvd. right in front of an oncoming Sheriff's car. Now, the turn was perfectly legal, just a little close for his comfort. He followed my turn, lights flashing, siren yelping. Oh shit. I pulled to the side of the road, rolled down my window and felt like I was in the middle of a really bad episode of LAPD Blue (if it existed). I handed over my NY Driver's license and confessed that I had been lost, was just following my portable GPS, and was a dumb newly transplanted New Yorker. I like to think that my winning smile, accompanied by my pathetic rendition of the truth (my car's so new it doesn't even have license plates yet), and the fact that I didn't actually do anything illegal, led this imposing man to let me off with a warning.
"You won't do anything this stupid ever again, now will you, M'am?"
"No, sir."

As penance, I paid way too much for parking behind the theater.

Wrenched

I have the cutest most awesome new car EVER. The dealer called yesterday morning and said my Toyota Yaris in beautiful Bayou Blue had made it off the boat earlier than expected. After a 2 1/2 hour drive (bad rush hour traffic) down to Toyota of Orange, as arranged through my high school friend Zack, I picked up my little piece of automotive heaven. Well worth the hassle! I drove it off the lot with just six miles on the odometer. Six! And, the requesite new car smell, of course. I proudly put the AAA auto emergency pack (complete w/lug wrench) in with the spare tire, too.



Then, while waiting for my vintage loveseat to be delivered, I tinkered away at assembling my new Ikea Hopen bed. I'm pretty handy (& I bought a full tool set w/drill, too), and have had plenty of experience assembling Swedish DIY furniture, but this one took five hours. Five! And my back is completely tweaked from the effort - all that leaning over and balancing wood and metal for hours with a tiny allen wrench in hand... Ouch!

Tomorrow: return unmatching misc. home furnishings and cover at least four windows. Four!

Missing my sister's three kids. Three!

Counting is so much fun. Ah, ah, ah! (ref Sesame and now to bed....)