you know you are in LA when:

  1. three (3!) identical ferraris parked in front of il sole on sunset
  2. almost naked buff boy jogs on beverly blvd (espied while having lunch served by v festive and pierced young man)
  3. it’s early march and you want to turn the AC on
  4. lovely PB swears that woman with weird hairdo at newspaper stand at LAX is kathy griffin

sorry i sighted noone. i don’t think the kathy griffin sighting counts bc a) i didn’t think it was her and b) LAX is technically on your way out of LA. i should have seen her at the peet’s coffee, or at wholefoods for it to count.

i did see loads of paps snapping someone in front of koi, but again, that does not count.

LA was wonderful in all other respects – saw friends, walked sans socks or sweater, ate sushi from local place around the corner. i love living in the fields, but i realised this w-e how much i miss being able to walk anywhere. i can walk up a hill and through vineyards here, which i know is a privilege and i do not want anyone to think i am complaining, BUT…

it so rocks to walk to the sushi place, it so rocks to walk to the pain quotidien for amazing bread, to the best pedicure place in the world, to trader joe’s (at least 40 minutes driving from where i am now).

v happy to be back in my vineyard where the plum cherry trees started budding over the w-e (people – spring is definitely here!!!!), but all this just confirms that happiness is a composite.

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