I am in lala love w/ a blogger

We met at a party on meadowbrook.

She came up to me and asked if I were Kitty. I said "yes" and she said "I read your blog and it is funny", and I blushed because that is my instant reaction to any compliment, but what she didn't say is that she is a blogger too and writes thisislalaland . I think we have a few things in common only she is more funny and a lot less...sardonic, I guess that is a way I would describe myself.

I do have to say though that you "hill and valley" crowd call it Fryman over here we call it Coldwater or Treepeople. Just saying.

Meeting talented, interesting, hungry, musically minded people is commonplace at meadowbrook. (that name makes it sound like a sanatorium,but I am hiding people's identities, but we are all just a little bit crazy)Every time I go there my inner circle grows exponentially. I'd like to think that it is my charisma, but I think it has more to with them vouching for my character a little a side that says "once you get past the shy part, she is really amazing"

They remind me of my family artists, actors, writers with big personalities that always made you feel loved. (My family started the first Finnish language theater troupe in the town I was born in but I digress.)

I always leave there with my ideas running and my belly full.

If I were you tomorrow

I would brave the Obama traffic go to the 5th and Sunset Galleries to see I Spy With My Plastic Eye, 2. A plastic camera art show.

I am very excited...and I will be there with my plastic Mini- Diana in my purse.

this is how I knew I was back:

Or "call LowFace he'll hook you up"...

I knew I was transitioning back to Los Angeles when I was sitting in terminal 2 in Minneapolis. I knew that my flight was cheap, but seeing a homeless man in the waiting area was rather shocking. He looked like a bear, hunched over, hair white-yellow and matted, reeking of smoke, red swollen faced and sputtering. I had a hard time convincing myself that he was real sitting there. More like a premonition of things to come.

He of course sat right behind me on the plane. (I wish I were making that up for effect, but I am not) The pregnant orthodox girl and I share a glance and I know what she is thinking immediately

"please do not puke"

We arrive in LA 3 hours and 20 snoring minutes later. I pick up my bag head to the pick up area and there he is waiting outside smoking and sputtering. He is picked up 20 minutes later in a candy apple red Porsche.

I am definitely back in LA.

It is planes trains and automobiles back to my apartment. I wait patiently for the 720 along with 30 plus other tired Angelenos. I can tell it has been a while and mta is trying people's patience, especially since there is a Mayan woman on the corner trying to save our souls. She screams at a man smoking a joint on the corner, about marijuana being a gateway drug to hell. "READ YOUR BIBLE!" she screams at him, I think she is trying get a few of us sinners in her tirade as well.

I just want to get home.

And of course, she gets on my bus and sits just a little bit behind me and when someone laughs she says:

"We pray for those who laugh because only sinners laugh in the face of god."

She speaks in tongues for a while between stops all I can gather from this rambling on are the words "final year" in Spanish.She continues to try to save each one of us leaving us with a final message, like a fortune in fortune cookie.

Mine was "Remember Jesus loves you and he would never give up on you and you should never give up"

I guess it is a nice sentiment, to never give up. I decide to take her advice and file the rest away as nonsense.

What a way to be welcomed back, I missed you Los Angeles.