LAX attitude

Yesterday, I managed to get on-line at DH's aunt's computer using a Frankenstein connection of mis-matched cables and computers jury-rigged sideways. The hotel, as I believe I mentioned, offered WIFI for $12 a day, but it wasn't available on our floor. Talk about nickle-and-diming the customer to death. They charged $26.50 per day for parking for hotel customers, and we found out this morning that there is also a daily parking tax of $2.60. And then, because we are not complete barbarians, ya gotta tip the valet at least a buck for running down to the parking lot and driving your car up. So we paid over $30 a day just to park. I forsee a precipitate drop in travel in our future. The unexpected expenses are eating us alive!

And now, I am paying $10 to blog from the Los Angeles Airport. Internet connection is rather addictive! Thanks ever so for the comments, ladies. It's so nice to stay in touch.

It's been a surprisingly pleasant trip, but there has been almost no down time. I wrote yesterday's blog while riding in the back of the SUV on the way from La Mirada out to Temeculah. When people give us directions around here, it's all by the numbers. "You take the ten to the I5 then get on the sixty one East and exit on one seventy two for the . . . " For someone who is as innumerate as I am, they may as well be speaking Greek. DH, however, copes magnificently! We rented a Dodge Nitro, since the only time we got a smaller car I was scared to death every time we got on the freeway. And when I'm scared to death, I'm not a cheery person. The vision of getting run into by someone in a stolen BMW obsesses me worse than the vision of being smashed flatter than a bug in an earthquake. Los Angeles is a visionary city for me.

I had to get a shot of this local yard art. Recycle those old tires and give your ferns a place to hang. Why buy planters when there are all these charming and artistic options available?

This morning, we checked out of the hotel and joined Harry (DH's sister's boyfriend. Does that make Harry my brother outlaw?)and a few of his friends for breakfast. I enjoyed my oatmeal in the company of 17 gearheads and my husband. I'm having wayy too much trouble getting Blogger to load pictures, or I would show you some of the cars they arrived in. Vintage roadsters and seasoned sports cars, and classy cruisers from the days when they were teenagers. But I gotta tell you, it's good for a girl's ego when all 17 of these nice gentlement make a point of introducing themselves and shaking my hand. And I'm not even wearing makeup today! I had a splendid time. One of the guys even confided in me, very much as if it were something he probably shouldn't comment on, "I like your hair." It took me a moment to realize that I am one of the few grey-haired women in the greater LA area. I joked that the fashion police were about to make a tactical sweep, snatch me up, and administer the mandatory blonde dye, botox, and liposuction. He offered to defend my silver locks to the end.

The breakfast was at a great little Mexican place in Redondo Beach, right on the beach, and there was a morning yoga class going on in the sand. And I gotta tell you, I'm carrying about twice the leagal limit of cellulite. My God, people are beautiful around here! I guess if you get slack and lazy, the authorities just don't allow you out in the daylight. Why, the false eyelash budget for Redondo Beach alone is probably enough to run several small countries. Do YOU wear false eyelashes for YOUR morning yoga? And then there's the question of tans and tattoos. The natural pigmentation tends to alter the add-ons. Those pretty little pink butterflies sort of look like a bad rash from a distance. Glad I'm going home. I miss my bed, I miss my kitties, and I'm not like the other girls.