Activities for K's send-off continue. Coffee with a late dinner is dangerous. It's nothing like the typical coked out Mondays of most Los Angeles residents but it's enough to keep a convo going for a coupla hours past the valets shift.

The night ended with a cup of coffee that went cold. The food at the Dresden Room tastes like you'd think. The place smells like the inside of a wig and looks like the fanciest food joint ever presented in a Bogart flick. The waiter advised K against pork chops because the guy who usually cooks a good chop wasn't working tonight. The other guy was on. "What else should we have?" "What's good?" we asked. He tells us, "Everything else is good." Imagine a chef whose only failure is the pork chop and you can imagine the Dresden.

All this coffee and wind and earthquakin has syncopated my circadian rhythm. I think I have been suffering from an elevated perceived predation risk for sometime. Staying up late waiting for earthquakes and text messages has caused me to adopt the same sleeping schedule I had in 1996. Syncopated, for those of you that don't know, is stress on a normally unstressed beat. Dig that. And dig this.

Other things I have been digging are this, this, and this.


My favorite old fashioned cooking ingredient is gelatin. Second to that would be dried fruits. I never appreciated my mother putting rasins in everything and now, well I still think it's gross but I get it.

We spent the evening at the local sports bar in the same spot we have secured for the past three games. I like it there even though everyone was a boston fan - but who isn't? Ever since that Jimmy Fallon movie...


I had big plans to stay up until after the earthquake tonight. I just can't handle being awoken -awoke -wakened - by a rumbling bed and bookcase and it happened again last night.

I was so pleased that I can get the USGS quake update live map on my blackberry because me internet has really been shit lately. It's running at dial-up speeds. I was on hold with Time Warner for 30 minutes before a young man with a mouth full of shredded wheat tried to help me. I was cranky and kept barking at him 'I can't even understand what you are saying?! Peanut butter mouthroof!'

Tomorrow is garbage day, the only day worse than street cleaning day for finding parking.


dodger's girls
Originally uploaded by kaky pants.

I stole some pics from K's flickr account. I have buckets from our visit to the stadium but I am saving them for when I have a chance to give a travel slideshow presentation at The Traveler Bookstore in WeHo. It is no accident that it rained the night before we went. It only rains on special occasions here. Last time it rained I got a new car.

This weekend so far has been tiring and invigorating. I have been working on several projects. Writing, photographing, helping (via mental projection) the Dodgers plan for their 50th anniversary here in the wild west, and recovering from the unidentifiable pain caused by my phantom breakup with my ambivalent lover. Hectic.

Fall is the time of year when all the easties around here pine away for the homeland. I priced out how much it would cost to immediately move my belongings back to Michigan in time to take the Detroit River fall color tour with my grandmother. A couple grand seems like a value. But there is no price I would pay to abandon my weather project. Talk about real value. Instead, I am off to find a cider mill. I heard there are some in the midst of all these palm trees around here.

she wouldn't shut up about baseball!

she wouldn't shut up about baseball!
Originally uploaded by kaky pants.


I wish I would have known this information was at my fingertips all season:



Originally uploaded by kayekilla.

Jamie's stove has an electric problem and if you touch it you will get a terrible shock. She was so tired from a long day of work that she put her six-pack of beer on top of the range and had to use Bethany's boots as a grounding mechanism to transfer the beer to a safe cold place. She is brave. It all worked out in the end and we spent the evening doing productive things like Exquisite Corpse Poetry.

I am terribly sick with a monstrous headcold and yesterday my laptop crashed. I dug up an old Dell Inspiron to do my writin' on. It weighs probably fifteen pounds and can only connect to the internet via a handcrank and RCA cable.

I'm supposed to be working on a locally based newsy travel article but I can't think of any other news than I am sick. Los Angeles makes people terribly selfish. Wait, there I have it - my article. That's not really news though.