Jet lagged Musings

Ok, so vacation found me food-poisoned, headachy, and on the rag.  Not exactly ideal circumstances in the way of summer travel, but this broad takes what she can get, Dear Reader. 

I've never actually been food poisoned before, have you?  I've decided the phrase sounds much more exciting when used as a verb as opposed to its noun form.  (Does that even make sense grammatically?  Oh, you know what I mean.)  In hindsight, whatever evil was taking place within my body this week was a veritable Holy Trinity of Wrong: unnatural, unholy, and unpleasant...utterly so. 

As it turns out, my Mother-in-Law and I were the only ones who ended up getting sick this vacation.  Which certainly is curious, since she ordered the fish tacos and I had the beef fajitas.  It's a culinary mystery, I'd say.  OK, no more talk of Mexican food, at least for another week or so.  (Sorry, guacamole, you know how fond I am of you.)

On a happier note, our hotels were fabulous.  Especially the one we stayed at on Saturday, since a travel agent friend of mine hooked us up with a trendy hotel on Sunset.  The trendiness I refer to was in a refreshing, non-hipster sort of way: un-stuffy and unpretentious.  And because of my friend's connection they treated us really nice: complimentary fuzzy slippers, bed-time green apples, a hand-written welcome note, and a room that opened up right onto the outdoor pool.  It was Heavenly.      

I have a soft spot for hotel bath products and such.  This hotel offered something you'll see to your right called personal oxygen.  My inner child was intrigued, but my inner old bitty didn't want to inhale.  (She might get too wild.  Plus she's already got enough hot air in her to last a lifetime.)

The Sheraton we stayed at by LAX was also extremely accommodating.  When I was feeling sick I was able to order toast with butter (even poolside), and later, when I was feeling drunker much better, Room Service brought me an enormous plate of cheese fries, despite the fact that it was 3:00 am and cheese fries weren't on the menu. 

I enjoy LA.  So many aspects of the place are right up my alley.  The spiritual advisors, the tarot readers, the aura cleansers.  One aura cleansing, please!  (You know I repeated this phrase over and over, in my heaviest Boston accent, until being around me became downright unbearable, even for myself.  Sorry, Hubs.)  I was also amused by a sign for Live Nudes!  As opposed to dead nudes, I imagine?  It got me to thinking, what must it feel like for one to refer to oneself as a live nude?  "So, what do you do?"  "Oh, I'm a nude.  A live nude.  And you?"

My inner juvenile giggled at the tanning salon you see to your right, aptly named Bronze Buns.  A direct, if disturbing, name for a business. 

I bet you think I attended this cat show you see advertised on your left...but I'll have you know I did not.  There wasn't enough time.  Tee hee.

The bulk of our week in California was spent with Hubby's family, as we were there to celebrate his older brother's 30th birthday.  (If you're reading this, hi, brother!)  His Mom and Dad also flew out for the occasion, so it was a reunion of sorts, which was nice since we rarely get to see any of them.  My niece and nephew seemed to have grown feet taller since my wedding, if possible.  We also got to spend some time with friends Hubby hasn't seen in years, although the visit was brief (and vomit sprinkled, on my part.)

I could sense the trip was bittersweet for my husband, in the same way it usually is for me when I go home.  There are so many people and places to see, and never enough time for all of them.  My family all live within a concentrated area, though, whereas his are scattered across the country. 

I couldn't help but think back to being 20 years old again, when Hubby, then my boyfriend of one and a half years, left college in Boston to return to California.  Those were the longest eight months of my life.  I charged three airline trips (at 29% interest, a very smart deal!) and spent most of my Senior year divided between two time zones.  My parents were worried, to say the least.  And then, miraculously, Hubby once again came Eastward, to be with me.  That lonely period seems a lifetime away now, though being in California always gets me to thinking...

I do my fair share of wistful planning, doesn't everyone?  As in, will we ever actually own a home, as opposed to renting?  Will we ever have children, as opposed to a cat?  (Mommy loves you, Kittie)  Will we ever move back to Boston?  Yesterday the horoscope for Sagittarius suggested that I be content with what I have right now, today, and I have to agree.  Everyone needs reminding from time to time, I suppose.

Tonight, back at home, with Kittie curled up on my lap, I feel very grateful that my wonderful Hubby has returned to the East coast to be with me...again. 

xoxo

Comments

[Weinerdog]

That looks like the Roosevelt hotel.
Was it?

[The Odd Broad]

The Grafton on Sunset...

[Weinerdog]

Sweet!

[Amy]

It's nice to know you're alive. I will need daily check-ins for at least a week.