5AM: The Quiet Hour

Warren Zevon’s great song, “I’ll sleep when I’m dead” seems to be my mantra lately. And so it happens that 5am is my new wake-up call. 5am is the new 7am. This is a good thing for the upcoming Oscar season, as one of the biggest bummers of all is/was having to wake up early for the Oscar nominations, and the SAG nominations, and the Golden Globe nominations. Waking up is hard to do if you like to sleep. Lately I’m finding I don’t like to sleep that much. I’d much rather be up. And the key to this existence, my friends, is taking naps. You have to think like a cat, or a senior citizen. Nap the afternoon away and it will change your life.

It’s been baking hot here in Los Angeles in November. Is it global warming? Or has it always been this way? It’s hard to know, really. I’ve lived here all of my life with a few pit stops in New York and Boston – always finding myself missing the wide open spaces here, even if they are concrete spaces, smog and hipsters-cluttered mini malls.

I probably couldn’t live anywhere else.

Los Angeles is much of what Steve Martin said it was in LA Stories. People do drive the couple of blocks they could walk, and they do make fun of the valley. The sun is harsh, leaving us all feeling a little over-exposed. But there is much here to appreciate, if you can dig it. If you don’t dig it, it will chase you out in a passive-aggressive way (as opposed to the aggressive way NYC does it).

To dig it means to exploit its best offerings – Santa Monica beach, the Arclight theater in Hollywood, the Sunset Strip, the Huntington Garden and Museum, but then you have to dig it in low key ways, because that’s what we do here. We shuffle out of our homes in our sweats and sunglasses, into a coffee place – like Starbucks, but not necessarily. Try Marie et Cie on Riverside in Valley Village.

You can shop at Whole Foods for the full spectrum California experience – you are most likely to see celebs there, especially at the one on Fairfax in the ‘Wood. But try the out of the way markets too. My favorite of these is Jon’s, which seemed to buy up all of the Vons and change just the one letter. But that is perhaps my own weird theory. They all of these strange imports, mostly from Russia and the like, but they also have some from the Middle East, Mexico (like Mexican coke!), and Italy (seriously, whole wheat imported pasta — what could be better). And you have to dig the “laid back” vibe, so don’t get too tense, unless you’re behind the wheel and road raging.

LACMA, the Getty, the Natural History Museum and Science Center are also not to be missed. It’s nicest in the mornings, though, if I had to choose a time I like this city best. There is no smog at that hour, and if you listen carefully, you can almost hear the birds chirping.

Beware of Rattlesnake Bites

I have lived in California all of my life and I’ve only seen a rattler a few times. And thank god, have never been bitten by one. When I was a kid, I lived in Topanga Canyon and we would spend much of our days riding our ponies through the firebreaks in the dusty hills around our beautiful home – if only my mom had realized the value of that place and bought it for a mere $90,000. Alas, it is now worth over $1 mil. Anyway, we spent a lot of time outdoors. My daughter spends most of her time indoors. She does not know anything about the natural world as I did. We literally played in the dirt and we walked, rode or biked everywhere. It was a different time.

Never did we get bitten by rattlesnakes. But I am always terrified of them. Always. Anyway, I learned something new about rattlesnakes. Once bitten, it is possible you will not have the full dose of venom. Only a small percentage of rattlers actually inject their venom. Sometimes it’s just a defensive bite. But look out if you do get the full dose. It can kill you. And even if you do survive, it will be a very traumatic event on your body.

You aren’t supposed to tie anything too tightly to cut off circulation. You aren’t supposed to cut up your arm or your leg to try to get the venom out. And apparently, people can die of things like panic (running off a cliff), or dehydration.

You have to remain calm. You have to keep the bite lower than your heart. And you have to be rescued. Terrifying, yeah? Yeah. Kind of. Just a little.

Here is more info.

“I hate snakes, Jaques. I hate ‘em.”

Photocredit

Hawk at My Window

I have hummingbirds getting very competitive and territorial about this feeder I keep there. I am, as we speak, making the balcony area into an urban herb garden so please do not be taken aback by the poor, dead jasmine plant. It will look much better in the coming weeks. I will admit I’m not the best with interior design. I’m just not one of those people. Thus, the “old” TV, the spotty carpet, the ragged balcony area. Anyway, I humiliate myself on multiple levels to bring you this lovely natural event. Suddenly a big old hawk appeared on the hummingbird perch area. I don’t know if he (she?) was there because of the little birds or there because he/she had seen my little wild kitten staring through the window at the birds. Either way, I moved to get my camera. I didn’t manage to get to my Nikon, because that would have entailed putting a battery in and by then, surely the hawk would have flown away. I got my little camera, the Panasonic Lumix, and snapped a quick photo of the hawk. Then, after it flew to a nearby wire, I got a better shot. Big, beautiful, scary things they are.

New Kitten and Life’s Odd Timing

It is true, what John Lennon wrote, about life being about what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans. As I type, a tiny, feisty kitten is trying to attack my fingers and my keyboard because he is so playful he can hardly contain himself. You’ve never seen a cuter kitten, even if all kittens are cute. Keyboard mistakes are his.
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El Diablo, aka Tom, aka the Little Dude came into our lives while I was away at Cannes. My sister was housesitting for me and watching my 11 year-old. O!ne day she was driving up Laurel Canyon blvd. and reached the top, where it crosses Mulholland. She saw a tiny little animal on the road and assumed it was roadkill, but then it moved! There were many cars driving by indifferently, as they do all of the time here in LA, when they aren’t assholes, but she stopped, scooped =]ihim up and then panicked. Now what?

On her lap was a flea-riddled, nearly dead, certainly in shock one month old kitten. Tiny Tom. She drove back down to our place and retrieved my daughter. They both drove around looking for a vet hospital, or a shelter, or something. They ended up finding one in Van Nuys but they wanted the money up front or they wouldn’t take him in. Apparently, so the story goes, my daughter burst into hysterical tears right then and there. A little drama never hurts. They decided to do the right thing and take him in.

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