But What do you EAT?!!!

Since moving to a more "progressive" state, I have marveled and cooed at the refreshingly expansive options I have as a vegetarian. In the south I had all but excepted my fate as a salad or even salad bar regular. Most of my friends and family are not of the animal rights persuasion. This doesn't mean they are not accommodating, but one can only go to one of the two Thai restaurants with you before they get bored.
Though I still have few if any vegetarian friends, I am surrounded by incredible vegetarian restaurants! What is important to note is that these are HEALTHY vegetarian spots. One can enjoy organic, possibly locally grown juicy veggies cooked to vital perfection infused with just the right amount of flavor. Instead of the trans fat fried, cheese soaked mess that I'm used to.
The best part, is that it has become an adventure! There are cafes and full fledged restaurants scattered across L.A. in every economic and social bracket. There is the soul veg place in the USC area, the chic chic, though casual place in Santa Monica, the raw places...be careful here some bodies can't take the "purity", and the old Thai stand bye.
So, traffic sucks and the people here are a little less than friendly, but at least there are folks here who care about animals and the planet, and make it easy for me to do it too.

Help is Always There

I have always been amazed at how people have magically shown up to help me when I have found myself stranded or otherwise lost in a foreign country. Once in Hungary, my sister and I got off at the wrong stop at four in the morning. We were trying to go to Budapest and ended up two stops beyond it, in the middle of no where. I do mean the middle of nowhere. There wasn't even a platform. We just followed the train tracks through a field, to the "station", that seemed to have housed livestock at some point in the recent past. We discovered quickly that we would have to wait until 8:00 a.m. for the banks to open in order to exchange currency and buy a ticket back to Budapest. I closed my eyes and said "God, whatever, where ever, who ever you are....we need help." When I opened my eyes there was a bearded man with a backpack asking me if I needed help. Could this be real? I explained the situation and thought maybe he could at least translate for us. He walked away and when he returned, produced two tickets back to Budapest! This kind of thing happened so often that I felt a bit guilty that I was always on the receiving end. All I had to do was ask in earnest and somehow, somebody heard me. Someone was listening...
Recently though, I had stayed at work quite late and decided to take an alternate route home. This was such an alternate route that I had begun vibbing it. I was going down streets I'd never seen before just to see if they connected. At a stop light I happened to look over to see sone of the foreign students from my class. I almost didn't recognize them. I waved and they waved back with both arms yelling "HELP", feigning desperation. I turned around and found that they had misread the bus schedule and now it was too late to get back to the west side without being on the bus for a couple of hours. It was great to finally be on the other side of the equation. Finally I was in a position to even the scales a bit.
When I saw them the next day, we all marveled at the absolute serendipity of me being there at that particular time. It was as if they had asked me to come. Thankfully, I heard them.

Two Things I Love In The California Evening Sun

Treasures in a Moving Box

Everyone told me it will be like Christmas when you open up the boxes of stuff you move to your new home. I still haven't found my knives, but opening up the box of little devil faces from Jamie made me forget about any practical stuff I might need to find. I can cut onions with a butter knife, but I could never find anything like these anywhere else in the world.

People With Something To Say

Home for a Birthday

I know that many people over age 21 don't care to celebrate birthdays. Once you have passed the threshold of legal inebriation there is nothing left to hold your breath for right? But what better way to tell your friend that you're glad they were around for another year than to have a party in their honor?
Since a certain someone came into my life, I've had my fare share of great birthdays spent with my closest friends. I thought this year would be the exception, but there I was surrounded by the greatest people.
It was a joint party, with my birthday twin, Mr. Adams. Cakes made by Ms. White and the other Athens Ms. Wooten. And party thrown and thrown down by Mr. and Ms. McMaken. A blast!! I couldn't be a luckier person.

Korean Scrub a Dub Dub

As a native of Florida I know a thing or two about saunas. In fact, I used to get under a velour blanket in the back seat of our huge Mercury Marque, in the dead of summer just to have the cooling experience when I came out coming out. Maybe I was just trying to detox from all of those hand fulls of whipped cream I sneaked while everyone else was doing yard work. Or maybe it was some kind of masochistic experiment akin to the practice of trying to see how long you can go without scratching an itch.
I didn't know a real sauna though until I went to a Russian bath house in N.Y.C. The idea that you are cleaning from the inside out was incredible not to mention the absolute relaxation possible when you surrender to the heat.
Since moving to L.A. I've wanted to try the Korean saunas but hadn't been able to justify it yet. So, when my little sister came for a visit I decided to schedule the full treatment for us.
We arrived about an hour early to soak and soften as the people at the spa had suggested. It was a dark peaceful place with several rooms and pools to "process" your body in. We melted into the red colored hot tea pool. Then tiptoed into the freezing green tea pool our eyes bulging and personal bits standing at attention. There was even a "jade room" to relax in on grass rugs. This room actually has huge nets full of jade hanging in each corner.
Before we had time to do another round our numbers were called and we proceeded to the massage center. This is when I realized we were not getting private massages. Like a scene from the movie "Coma", there were supine bodies from wall to wall with bikini clad women scrubbing and rubbing every part of them.
My sister and I looked at each other and almost reluctantly went to our respective tables. The massause was very instructive in her broken English. One word commands can be confusing though. For example, I almost didn't fit on the table so she kept telling me "up" which I figured out meant move up on the table not sit up. She also knew how to say "ober", which I realized meant turn over not that the massage is over.
The service began with a scrub. My god was it a scrub. I felt like an old piece of furniture being sandpapered by a professional. When she came to certain imperfections on my skin it was as if she became Lady McBeth trying to get rid of the blood she hath spilled.
Then came the private spots. As she swooped in with the loofah, I thought to myself no she is not scrubbing there! But I let it all happen. Just surrender, right?
There were spots however that were just too ticklish. I let out a giggle as she loofahed my stomach. Then I heard my sister giggling from across the room. I started to laugh even more. My therapist reprimanded me with a curt "SSShhht". I laughed again. "Ssshht" and then "First time?", she asked, trying to show sympathy I suppose.
Once the massage was over and we were worked over, I went home and compared notes, and got the best nights sleep I've gotten in a long time.

Car Culture Part 1

I knew before I moved to L.A. that I would be spending a lot of time in the car. A lot....Hmmm maybe that's not quit the right word. In any case, I have made a point of not indulging in truly complaining about the traffic since let's face it.. it doesn't help.
So I've taken to looking at all of the maudlin challenges of being in the car as little lessons. Up until recently the only thing I had really learned was how to drive like a South Indian... This can be loosely condensed into a few guildlines. 1. Pay close attention 2. Do not react emotionally to the asshole in the S.U.V. Mercedes who is running you of the road while talking to his banker on his cell phone....(as Darell Allen once said.."He can't hep it") 3. Think about all of the things that really matter to you. 4. Swerve baby swerve.
Everything changed last week when I learned a new very helpful skill. If you are easily grossed out stop reading now! (that means you Aarron). Working through several days of a sour stomach, the drive home had become the worst part. I thought if I could just get home I would be o.k.
On one particular day the stop and go had pushed me toooo far. I couldn't believe it! I had to vomit and through that sweaty pre vomit phase I couldn't manage to bully anyone into letting me pull over. The talk radio that was so interesting a few minutes before had become like a wet wool blanket smothering and scratching me. I realized I would have to get this thing done in the car. I turned off the radio, quickly positioned a plastic bag over the steering wheel and waited for the launch. Now that is some multitasking! Yes, I know this is gross, but I was amazed that this feet was even possible!
When it was done I simply tied the bag up and continued my journey home. Now I always carry a bag in the car and listen to talk radio a little less.

Self Serve Please...Car Culture Part 2

Gas is not cheap in Los Angeles, so it is important to pay attention to prices and make sure you don't run out in a pricey part of town. As I have mentioned, I was having a run of yucky stomach a few weeks ago and had taken to keeping plastic bags in the car. On this day however my stomach had rebelled even before I got in the car. I was thankful I was not in the car and yet the interior of the car is a little more private than the down stairs restroom of Whole Foods. Needless to say I got the deed done, and since I didn't feel much better I bought a Ginger Brew hoping it would stave off a repeat performance. After all, it's tough to keep your eyes open while your giving up your lunch.
As I drove down Wilshire, through Beverly Hills, I realized I was on empty. By this time I was shaky again and didn't know if I had it in me to pump the gas myself. So, I pulled into a full service station. Now, I haven't been to one of these since I was a kid. I remember habitually giving the service guy a thumbs up the entire time he pumped the gas as if it was some well known ritual.
Today things were different. I pulled up in my dirty, year 2000 Toyota, Corolla. I could hardly look at the service guy, which I felt guilty about. "Fill er up", I said through a pre vomit haze. He did as I instructed. I took a few sips of my ginger brew, opened the car door, and rested on the steering wheel. After he pumped the gas he went on to put air in my tires, and wash my windows. "O.k. O.k. I just want to get home. I don't need all that.", I said punctuating each o.k. with my ginger brew. "But you just paid $3.50 a gallon. Don't you want the full service?", he asked eyeing my brew. "NO. I don't feel good. I gotta get home.", I said mopping my brow. "What's in the bottle? That a NewCastle?", he asked suspiciously. "NO!! It's Ginger Brew..like ginger ale. I'm sick." "Ahuh.", he replied.
I could see his point. Why would someone in a Toyota Corolla spend the money on full service. Once I felt that I had convinced him of my innocence, I opened up my stash of crystalized ginger and nibbled while driving. I even made it home with out needing that plastic bag.

Getting Lost for the Sake of Getting Lost

Every time I've moved to a new town / house / job I've realized just how far I'm willing to go to create variety in my life. I travel to the new location one way and insist on finding a new way back home. I simply hate going the same route twice in a day. This has been fine in towns that have simple graph like road plans and flat topography. In older and or more hilly places one cannot count on the roads to connect. Such an assumption could lead you to a whole other county when driving in Georgia. Getting lost though is fun as long as it leads to new ways of getting found.
It seems I cannot give up on finding new ways to get from place to place. Living on a mountain has made this tendency down right dangerous. Some wrong turns actually lead to a dirt road whose 50 foot drop doesn't have even one slat of barrier from what must be a deadly fall. This, nor driving for almost 30 minutes around and around the mountain has stopped me from finding about five different ways home.
On foot it is more manageable and yet slightly more perilous. An evening walk can turn into a frustratingly rigorous night walk with only the north star to give you a hint. Somehow I never think about what is behind me, only what is ahead.....and this can really get you lost.
Though getting lost can be frightening, I usually like trying to find my way back and cannot control my urge to wander when the urge strikes. Up until recently I indulged in this habit too often, believing that getting lost always helped me find something else. ...a part of town I didn't know about...a new trail more secluded than all of the others....a part of myself I didn't know existed. It was the L.A. parking garage that has woken me from this dream.
I was a little late for an interview in a part of town that is especially crowded with plastic surgery victims. The only place to park was in a humongous parking garage with about 7 stories. There were no numbers for the spots, only colors for areas. I noted a fire extinguisher with a number on it and made sure to park next to it. When I returned I could not find my car. It gets worse.... Somehow my car had vanished along with my mind. I looked at every car on two levels over the next hour and a half!!! No car...no where.
The worst thing about losing your car in a parking garage is that no one can help you. The second worse thing is that there is absolutely no scenery...just a bunch of very nicely dressed mothers piling their kids out of there gas guzzling S.U.V.s. I felt like I might never leave, not to mention the price of parking was going up for every hour my car was in the garage.
When I finally found the car and exited the dark garage, the sun felt like a decompression chamber embracing me for the real world after my brief but maddening adventure in the parking garage twilight zone. I hadn't lost my mind after all, just a little pride and some skin on my feet that had been rubbed off from walking so much.
I still wander and don't mind getting lost. I've just learned not to get lost in the dead ends.

Venice Beach...or is it Gainesville FL

Years ago while working at a vegetarian restaurant in Gainesville FL., I developed a special distaste for drum circles. That place was filled to the brim with idealists ready to educate you about everything from health, to preservation of the environment, to polyamory. It was a formative place. For all of our plans to save the world we still had to clean up after the patrons at the end of the night. Usually my coworkers and I were rushing the mop over the floor or sponge over the counter in hopes we wouldn't miss a show when the circle of drummers would show up. They were a group of 50 yr old guys..remnants of the era of flower children, who would congregate outside the cafe and pound out their pasts. The day trading ponytail wearing neo hippie who is cool as a cucumber As the rhythms built and dragged on I could feel my blood pressure going up. Frantically cleaning a cafe in hopes of not missing the Fugazi or Gillian Welsh show just didn't sync up with the overly simplistic, clumzily relentless pounding going on right outside the door. They probably thought they were doing us a favor...the day trading ponytail wearing hippie sitting next to the much younger quiet guy who we later found out was the supplier for the whole town.

On a recent trip to Venice Beach at sunset, I heard the sounds of a drum circle off in the distance. In the past I would have rolled my eyes and walked the other way. But, having found my angst ridden judgment to be nothing more than a high school left over like, I've become more open to just about everything. this was no ordinary drum circle. It seemed that there was every type of person in on the thing. Of course, no drum circle is complete without the wavy haired, half clothed goddess who's utter lack of inhibition wins her both my respect and a very gross older boyfriend. Yes, she was there. But,there was also the JCrew guy who's smile while hitting a stainless steal kettle that the pink haired, punk, lesbian, girl had given him, says "that weed was great! That pink haired girl is a little chubby, but I bet she's a great ****. I love Venice Beach dude."

Not to be forgotten are the skate kids, who were really too cool to be there, but had "parked" their boards in the sand to take part in this community event. Most interesting though were the homeless guys, who surprisingly did not smell bad. On the street people look the other way. Here, they are just another guy outfitted with a can or a drum...by the pink haired punk girl of course.

Maybe it was the diversity...the lack of cliche in the group that made me feel o.k. about this drum circle. Maybe that is the kind of drum circle the Neohippies in Gainesville used to have before they made too much money to know anyone other than each other. Maybe I'm just in a new place and finally letting myself be young.

Nature in the city

Most people who live in a beautiful town like Athens think living in a city to be, well, unthinkable. So, often the reaction I got when telling an Athenian I was moving to L.A. was this little scrunch of the nose and then a quiet "why?". One of my friends warned me that everyone in L.A. is like the vapid guys on Entourage. Still another friend, well an acquaintance, said it would steal my soul. I had my doubts. But part of the reason I chose L.A. over N.Y.C. was the hope that nature would be more accessible here. I haven't been disappointed.

In fact the neighborhood I live in at the moment has actual trails running through every part of it! There is so much to see! If you tire of looking at the houses (there is a Richard Neutra house around the corner) you can hike down the side of the mountain. The smell of sage and honeysuckle is everywhere!

Of course, we won't live in this neighborhood forever. I suppose Griffith Park will have to do. Though it is not as nice as Central Park, what with the depressing remnants of the old Zoo, it is still alive with birthday parties, hikers, and plenty of dogs. People seem to love the outdoors here. I think my soul is safe for now

Cheetas on Cocaine...Driving in L.A.

My first voyages out of my flu haze onto the highways of L.A. were as a passenger. I kept thinking I was better, but everytime I got in the car I would regress. For now we are living on the top of a mountain, 20 minutes from L.A. proper, which means a miserably winding road to get to the nearest highway. UUUGGG!
Once on the highway cars wiz past and each curve feels like it might be your last. Tim had gotten into the speed of things straight away. "Are you on crack? Why are you driving like that?", I asked, when we came dangerously close to smashing into the back of a semi. "This is how people drive here. You'll see. It just looks scarry.", Tim said, while trying once again to get in the "right" lane. (The right lane sneaks up on you)
I realize now that driving here isn't much different than Atlanta. I'm even getting used to the winding roads. I havn't lost my dinner in days!

Henry update

So whatever happened to Henry? So many of my friends and family have gotten almost as invested in this dog rescue thing as I have. When Henry, the now one eyed, jumping dog, got sick I asked for help...not something I like to do. What I learned is that people really want to help, and it felt great to ask and receive! I also learned that situations that seem horrible can turn out to be the best thing that ever happened.
So where is he now? Tim and I met with Henry, his new owners, and doggie brother and sister just before we moved. I just had to see him one more time. He looked great!!! His eye looks great and his new owners actually cook him doggie dinner every night!! He has a very full and healthy life.
I was surprized how hard it was for me to see him..and to say good bye again. But it was wonderful for me to see him in his right place. A happy ending indeed and as ball crazy as ever.

Put all of your shit in a box

I had known that I was moving for years. So why did I accumulate so much stuff? The simple answer is that I didn't realize I had accumulated so much stuff. Being a pack rat is a complicated thing. I will not assume that I could explain my own personal flavor of packrathood in a blog. That should be reserved for some drunken night when I think I know how to excuse my weaknesses to an understanding friend.
When Tim and I set the final date for our move, and subsequently pushed it up by two days we had no idea what were were getting into. All of my moves had been accomplished by a car or van. Though I've always been a pack rat, I have mostly confined my ugly habit to the realms of ephemera...mostly. Somehow I had let my lust for old mostly useless things get the better of me and my space. Consequently, nothing could prepare me for the kind of packing that lay ahead.
We did everything wrong or late. We kept wanting one last party...one last visit..forgetting that our stuff would not pack itself. So, the day our friends converged to help us there was stuff everywhere! I watched out of the corner of my eye as Alex took down decorations that I didn't even realize were there. Katie and Jeani formed a team in the junk room and frantically tried to make sense of it, while whispering promises to themselves about getting rid of there own "stuff". Jay, organized a rotating team of people who graciously did a lot of the heavy lifting Jeffry, Andy Cherwick, Donny Chambers, Aarron Walters, Kenny, John, Noah, and Mark...just to name a few. While Brian Causy expertly packed one of Tim's guitars, Jamie was painstakingly organizing anything she could through the allergies that seemed to be plaguing everyone. Cori and Jessica made snack packs and joined in with their little ones. You would have thought we were paying these people!
I had never imagined that moving would be such a communal effort. It made it harder to leave. Watching Vicky and Sali play in our back yard, seeing everyone for the last time as our neighbors.
Thanks to everyone who helped pack, wished us well, or took pictures of people doing the above (Jason and Beth).

Here is a link to a little video we put together to commemorate the event.
<<;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X441ZiU-8m8>

The U.S. ....It's Bigger Than I Thought

After one of the most insanely mind numbing weeks of packing and parties Tim and I got on the road to Los Angeles. With so many good friends and family in Athens it was hard to say good bye. Both Tim and I watched as Kenny and Jay, the last Athens folks we saw, stayed on 544 Blvd. (the dream street)
The first 15 minutes were full of praise for our friends and family, so helpful and supportive. Then we got quiet. Were we doing the right thing?? Hmmm
Our first stop was Nashville. Tim's dad serendipitously was at a conference at the Opry Hotel. We had a great sleep, $15 omelets (thanks John), and some sleepy conversation before we were on the road again.
The truck wasn't as difficult to drive as I thought it would be, but it did take a considerable amount of concentration to guide it through the inevitable road construction encountered entering and exiting each city.
We breezed through Arkansas and Oklahoma, putting in 12 hour days in the hopes of getting one day off to go to the Grand Canyon. They were long days, but we needed to see the physical distance that lay between where we were and where we were going to be living. Besides, I've mostly traveled to other countries rather than seeing my own. This was a great op. to see what this country really looks like. As we went from craggy mountains, to lush bridge covered lakes, to flat ranch lands littered with windmills, to the seemingly endless dessert, I think Tim and I both were coming to terms with the move we were making. It's a big world out there and I we haven't seen enough of it.

(Quick aside...)

Oklahoma is pretty damn safe. We had gone to several Wal-marts along
the way in hopes of finding a certain kind of lock that we had seen in
Athens but failed to get the correct size. Once in Oklahoma, noticing
they too did not have the size lock we needed I asked "Do you have these
locks somewhere in the back?" "Nope", the hardware sales guy says and
goes back to helping a couple with house paint. "How about tazers?", I
asked (I was convinced we would meet with trouble in the dessert and had
heard Wal-Mart now sells them) "UUUhh No!", answered the paint and
hardware guy. Finally, the customer who was being helped told me that
the lock I was looking for was a "high-security" lock and that I would
have to look in a less safe town for such a thing. "O.k. We're traveling
on Hwy 40. Where's the next unsafe town?", I asked with little or no
irony, only thinking about the fact that the Athens Wal-Mart had five
sizes of this "high-security" lock. "Ah, maybe Oklahoma City..if your
lucky. My friend is a locksmith and he don't hardly make any money.
People don't really lock their doors around here." We decided to take our
chances and call off the search.
Then it was on to Flagstaff where our gracious hosts, Matt and Cameron Clark gave us a warm welcome and our first non hotel bed. I had expected that Arizona would be hot and dry. Nooooo! I couldn't believe it it was actually snowing!
It was my first time seeing the Grand Canyon and the snow just made it more magical. There really isn't much I can put into words about the G.C. outside of just saying, everyone should see it. If you really take it in, it will make you surrender those petty worries.
So we are now here in Cali. I've scarcely seen the outside of the house we're staying in...but I know this flu will pass soon. It's funny to see so much in such a short time and then to be confined to looking at four walls from a sick bed. Ahhh life.