...upon my doorstep

I really do wish I wrote in this every day, but here's one of the problems: when I write here, I'm aware that I should be working on my book. When it comes time to work on my book, I realize that the apartment's a mess/the dog needs to be walked/there's laundry to do/I need a nap.

Procrastination is one of my strong suits. As are erratic driving and the ability to trace the origin of any conversation, no matter how tangential it's become.

I'm out in LA right now, where I briefly lived 130 years ago. Nice to be here, spending quality time with sister and niece and friends. Yesterday we went to the beach in Santa Monica and then came home and took a swim + jacuzzi in their saltwater pool. Their pool, by the way, is about the size of every apartment I've lived in in NY put together. When I visit the rest of the world, I question my decision to reside in NY. But when I see a free outdoor concert, amazing Broadway play (August: Osage County ... see it!), walk to just about anywhere I need to go, order in just about anything I feel like eating, and spend time with my parents and amazing friends, I remember why. Still, it would be nice to have an apartment that takes more than 11 seconds to tour.

There is either a very industrious gardener or an automatic sprinkler system outside. It's not yet dawn here so I can't tell, but the aforementioned woke me up a little while ago.

Tomorrow we are having a couple of friends over to swim and snack. Among them is my best friend from third grade whom I haven't seen in nearly as long. Through the magic of the Internets (please vote for Obama, people), we reconnected earlier this year. We're so oldschool that we did so via Myspace, not Facebook. Anyway she was a beautiful gal back then and is a beautiful woman today, and I'm really looking forward to seeing her!

What else, what else ... reading a good book recommended to me by the woman working in the bookstore in Woodstock, Vermont, where we were last weekend for a wedding. It's called Loving Frank and is a fictionalized, though thoroughly researched story about the love affair between Frank Lloyd Wright and Mamah Borthwick Cheney. Poor thing probably longed for a simpler last name. Speaking of Cheney ... VOTE OBAMA.

Today we are hiking Runyon Canyon, my sis and me. Last time we did that we ran into Will Ferrell at the top. Of all the canyons in all the towns in all the world, he hikes up mine.

Speaking of hikes, remind me to tell you of our harrowing, treacherous, and vastly understated "hike" in Norway last year. Now I'm going to attempt to sleep a little bit more.

Love you! Miss you! So does this guy:
Triangles make excellent pets.

Gadget's looking happy, isn't he, shyguy?

Will write more.

UPDATE: I just rescued and put outside a bug that had more legs than the Radio City Christmas Spectacular. Blech.