Aprilbaby's California Life

Shopping & Shooting

I spent the first part of my afternoon searching Main Street in Santa Monica for the perfect Christmas gifts, but left with nothing more than the photos I shot.

A few windows on Main Street had displays which caught my eye.  The first was a retro Santa, the other was a metal fem-bot.

  After returning to the valley, I came upon one of my favorite neon liquor store signs on Ventura Boulevard in Encino - urging me to buy... though I resisted and chose to shoot this photo instead.

Putting Life in Perspective

"There's where they keep the General Lee," the tow truck driver pointed.

I snapped out of my despair to mumble, "Huh, what?"

"The General Lee," he repeated in a where have you been - under a rock? sort of tone, "the car from the Dukes of Hazzard."

In his world, I suppose, a person's not literate if they don't know such information.  I didn't know, and I didn't care.  All I knew was that it was cold, it was gray, it was drizzling, my car just broke down, it was the day after Christmas and I should've stayed home.  At least my husband got to join me for the ride.

Just after passing the General Lee, the tow truck whined up the Sierra Highway leaving Santa Clarita for the San Fernando Valley.  As the truck headed down a windy stretch of road, the driver - about thirty years old or so, knit cap pulled down below his eyebrows, grime under his nails, shoulders pulled up to his ears - began to dial his cell phone, rather than watch where he was driving. 

"Bet I'm scaring you right now.  Hee hee," he said with glee, as the truck sped down toward a sharp bend, his beady eyes glued to the cell phone key pad and his one hand controlling the mammoth vehicle.  Every bump in the road popped my husband and me up toward the ceiling.  I kept looking back to my car on the flat-bed being pulled behind.

Yep, I was scared.  And even more so when he joked that he's a crack smoking tow truck driver. Funny, funny stuff.  About this time, I later found out, my husband was seriously thinking we might end up in pieces in the Angeles Crest forest.

Out of the beautiful silence the driver volunteered this information, for no particular reason, "If you ever plan on going on the Who Wants To Be A Millionare program, just play a lot of those trivial type board games."

"Hmmm." My husband and I muttered at the same time while pressing our knees into each other, to communicate that this guy was one odd cookie.

After finally making it to our little suburban haven, I needed to fill out our address on some paperwork.

"Don't worry... I won't stalk you or nothin'," the tow truck driver mentioned.

Gee, I hadn't worried about that - until just then!  Why would he say that?!

There we were, a broken down car in our rain soaked driveway, a tow bill just paid, more maintenance bills in our near future; I was bumming.

Until we got home and turned on the news and heard for the first time that a 9.0 earthquake hit near Thailand, then caused massive tsunamis along multiple Asian countries, killing tens of thousands of people.

And I had the nerve to complain about my day?!

Musical Questions

1. Song that sounds like happy feels:
"Obla Di Obla Da," by the Beatles.  I grew up on their music, and this song always made me happy when ever I'd sing along.

Not too long ago, I edited together my family's 8mm films from when I was a kid, and our years traveling around Europe.  I put together all of the wacky family moments with "Obla Di Obla Da" as the soundtrack. It fit perfectly. 

2. Earliest memory:
Sitting in my kiddie sized rocking chair, while watching Jack La Lanne.  When he said, "Come on!  Let's do jumping jacks," I was convinced he was talking right to me.

3. Last CD you bought:
It's a Crowded House cd I bought my husband for Christmas.  Though it was meant to be his gift, I've been playing it over and over again.  It's so damned good.  Why, oh why didn't I ever go see those guys when they were together?  The songs have a dreamy, Beatlesque quality; yet, since the songs are so well written, they're entirely original.

4. Reminds you of school:
Jr. High:  It's a tie between Lynard Skynard's "Free Bird" and L.Z's "Stairway To Heaven."

High School:  The first that comes to mind is The Pretenders "Brass In Pocket."  My friend Jackie would play that when ever we'd go cruising up and down El Camino Real Blvd., in San Mateo, on Saturday Nights - looking for cute guys.  Our car full of girls would sing along... or, screech along, like it was some sort of teen girl anthem, revving up to go boy hunting.

College:
Talking Heads!  I can't hear the beginning of "Burning Down The House," without feeling like I'm standing near a beer keg with a frat boy puking out a near-by window at Stanford's Sigma Chi House.  And no!  Unfortunately, I wasn't a student there.  As my friend and I used to slur when asked..."We go to ...UCSM"- aka College of San Mateo.  We were only Stanford guests.

5. Total music files on your PC:
I'm pretty clueless with most technology.  So none, unless they're my daughters.  I just figured out how to use our DVD player.

6. Song for listening to repeatedly when depressed:
Beck's "Devil's Haircut" would do the trick.  Or some good Bossa Nova.  Who could be upset when listening to a true Brazillian version of "The Girl From Ipenema"?

7. Song that sounds British, but isn't:
I'm stumped.

8. Song you love, band you hate:
The only thing that comes to mind is Pink's...what is it?  "You're like a Pill"?

9. A favorite song from the past that took ages to track down:

I had a hard time finding the soundtrack to "The Last Tango In Paris."  My husband mentioned that it had some really beautiful music on it, so I wanted to buy it as a gift.  I found it on the internet, eventually - but after looking all over.

10. Bought the album for one good song:
I bought a Christina Aguilera cd for my daughter, because she liked the song "Beautiful."

11. Worst Song to Get Stuck in your Head:
"Cat Scratch Fever" by Ted Nugent.  Once, I spent the night at my friend's house, and her brother woke us up by turning that song on the record player full blast, right near my head. I had a real hard time getting that song un-stuck out of my head.

12. Best song to dump a beer on someone's head to, then storm out of the bar?
For some reason "Back In Black" by AC/DC comes to mind.  It always gets me feeling extra bold.

13. Who should do this next?
Is there anyone in the blogging community who would like to fill this out?  It's one of those questionnaires that you pass along.  The only people I know to ask don't have blogs to post this.

Dissing Santa

So I was perusing the Promenade Mall in Woodland Hills, the day before last, in search of last minute Christmas gifts - and who should I stumble upon in a darkened, bottom floor corridor, stowed behind electronic ad banners and structural columns?  Santa! Yes, the jolly old man himself was sequestered, along with one defeated looking elf, as if he was a nuisance - nothing more than mere holiday flotsam tossed aside to make room for the previously mentioned ad banners.

When my daughter was little, about five years ago, in this very same mall, Santa was the center of attention sitting upon a throne, adorned by loving elfish assistants who calmed the long line of Santa adoring children.

Yet today, Santa sits alone but for one elf, in the dark counting the minutes until he can take off the suit and get some respect once again.

This fuzzy cell phone photo shows Santa's empty seat stuck behind the afore-mentioned electronic ad banners.

In The Christmas Mood

The weather here in Southern California is absolutely spectacular! Every day this week the sky has been clear - thanks to the Santa Ana winds - and eye-popping turquoise blue.

I took this photo this morning at Pierce College.

Even with this warm weather I've been getting in the Christmas mood with a little help from a can of spray snow and some holiday decor.

Here's my front window sprayed with faux-frost.  Now who'd guess I could get a killer tan in December -if I didn't care about skin spots, cancer and wrinkles, that is... Merry Christmas! And to you Californians...don't forget the sun block.

Disneyland - Where I'm A Kid Again

Here I am, in mouse ears, at the happiest place on earth.  I took my daughter and her friend to Disneyland a few weeks ago.

Upon my entry into the land that Disney built, I immediately reverted back to myself at fours year old,  "What rides d'ya wanna go on now... the Pirates of the Carribean, Thunder Mountain, the tea cups?" So these rides aren't the scariest, but they're whimsical and happy just like Walt Disney had planned.  (photo:me at 4 yrs. old, after accosting Pluto, 1967)

But! The Disney executives have made some pretty dumb decisions - if you ask me - and though no one is... In my opinion, the Michael Jackson Captain E.O., or whatever it was called, was totally un-Disneyesque.  And the idea of sticking the California Experience (Duh! mini-California within California) park next to Disneyland was lame.  But most maddening are all of the great rides from yesterday that are no longer there, including the submarines. The submarine lagoon sits empty, without a ripple.  Tomorrowland, once one of my favorite lands, seems to have given up, as if the Disney execs are saying there's no hope for the future - you've already seen the best innovations that the human mind can imagine.

While I found Tomorrowland lacking, I was truly disappointed with what they did for the Christmas season to the haunted house.  Rather than spinning through the transparent, dancing dead amid the dust and cobwebs - I was jangled by day-glo cartoon characters from Tim Burton's "Nightmare Before Christmas."  Annoyed, yes, but not scared.

Otherwise, I, along with my daughter and her friend, had the most fun we've had in a long time - strolling through the colorful lands, stuffing our faces with expensive candy, humming along to the piped in Disney music while plotting our next ride.

When I waited in line for the Peter Pan ride I watched young, "cool" guys with their jeans hanging on their hips as they stepped into ships with sails to fly above London with Peter and Wendy.  Disneyland lets everyone become children again, even guys in baggy jeans.  And that's what I love about the place!

The evening ended with fireworks bursting through the sky, followed with Disney-made snow sprinkled on our heads as we walked through crowded Main Street.

As a child, I think I remember Tinkerbell zipping through the sky on a wire at the end of the evening.  Maybe she did, or maybe I just thought I saw her.  Either way... it was always a magical experience - just as it is today.

Drugstore Couture

Due to Southern California's exceptionally cold weather this week, I bought myself some knitted gloves.  While driving my daughter to school yesterday morning, I thought, while wriggling my thawing fingers around the steering wheel, "Man, these gloves were a great deal."

I bought them, impulsively, while in line at Sav-On Drugs to pay for shampoo.  My eyes caught sight of the black, fuzzy empty fingers dangling over the sale bin under the large $1.99 sign.  How could I resist?  I couldn't.

So while driving that morning, I realized that not only were my warm black gloves purchased at a drugstore, but so was the over-sized, grey hooded sweatshirt I had on - also purchased at Sav-on for only $12.99 - and the imitiation Ugg, fake-wool lined, suede-like (yet oh so comfortable) slip ons I had on my feet; a Walgreen's deal of the century at a mere $7.99.

Back in my single, party girl days I shopped at chic little boutiques on Union Street in San Francisco and drove an hour to Marin County to have my hair styled.  Now I frequent drug stores for my hair products AND clothing.  I've gone from fashionably flirty to frugally funky.

If drugstore couture ever becomes a style Maddona adopts, please know... I was way ahead of the trend. 

Where's The Bitch?

My mom lives on a century old barge (or peniche) on the Loire in a small French village.

On the phone today, she told me she was asked to help a group of retired French people learn to speak English.  One of the women came up to her and asked how to say "Where's the bitch?" so that the last word could be understood correctly.

My mom corrected her by enunciating the last word so the vowels sounded like long eeeeeees...  So it sounds like "Where's the beach?" as it should.

And when she's not preventing elderly French women from using profanity, my mom cooks meals for munks at a monastary on Thursdays, and has been known to help clean and wait tables at a cafe, near her boat, when she sees they need help.

Now that she's lived there five years, apparently, her French is getting pretty good. "And when I don't know a word, I invent my own," she told me. Apparently she's had pretty good luck just saying some English words with a French accent. She says it works... sometimes.

But then, every year since she's lived there she's convinced a large group (and growing) of the village folks to celebrate Thanksgiving with her in the tavern across from her barge - with turkey, cranberries, stuffing... so I don't doubt she gets away with making up French words.