Okay, so I'm totally disoriented after arriving home from my Lala Land trip today. I'm not actually that tired, I'm just *punchy*, so to speak. Perhaps that is the definition of *jet lag*. If not, I think I just redefined that coined phrase. I'm not quite able to assemble my thoughts in the right order yet. Really. What's that all about? Is that yet another fun perk to aging in the fast lane? Oh. Joy.
Our cat has been completely obsessed with me since I arrived home which is fun, because she wants to hear all my stories and she never interrupts me or judges me (as long as I'm slowly rubbing her belly as I relay the stories, right?). Hey, what are friends for anyway? Apparently almost a week was more than she could handle. After all, when I got home I did notice that her dry cat food bowl was as bare as Mother Hubbard's cupboard. Explanation complete. My welcome home gift consisted of several strategically placed hairball/throw-ups. Awwwwww. That was so sweet. Not..... Ever.
The trip out to Lala Land took 6-1/2 hours since we had to stop in Albuquerque, then change planes in Oakland, then headed to Burbank. Since we were pretty pressed for time, SD drove me directly to my hotel and said she'd be back at a certain time to pick me up, at which time we'd head downtown to see Dreamgirls. Not long after I got unpacked and dressed for the evening, she calls and says she's on (maybe, I don't remember) the 101 where there was a fatal crash. In other words, I was going to have to take a taxi downtown. So, she said make him take Crescent to Venice but he didn't speak English, so he took the long way, which cost a whopping $40.00 and he drove like an 80 year old woman. He dropped me off to where I had to walk an additional 3 blocks. Hello blister #1. No tip for you mister!
So, the first night we went to downtown LaLa Land and had a fabulous early dinner at Katsuya Live and then 2nd row seats at the live stage production of "Dreamgirls", courtesy of SD's production company. (They were actually like $300.00 seats that we were able to get for $90.00 per seat because no one else at her office wanted them.) Two nights later their run in L.A. closed, so I felt like we'd caught one of their best performances because I always think any show is at its peak when it's close to the end of the show's run. Emotions run high, as does energy, which makes it ever so much more exciting. I was totally and completely *agog* and guess what? I didn't cry. Oh wait. Actually, I did. When the character *Effie* sang the song "And I'm Telling You I'm Not Going" I pretty much lost it, which cracked SD up, as well as embarrassed her. Two birds with one stone is never a bad thing.
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Dreamgirls was a wonderful show and I loved it! On the way out (after the show) we did have a celebrity sighting. SD said "Isn't that the original Brady Bunch Mom?" Indeed it was. Florence Henderson, who looks younger than I do. I wanted to throw up but managed to *heel* myself and get over it. It was obviously due to to surgery and not genes. My only salvation.
SD and I were both exhausted so she dropped me off at my adorable little *boutique hotel* (The Chamberlain West Hollywood) where I happily fell into a deep sleep as soon as I finished watching Twilight New Moon on the hotel pay-per-view. More about this later...
I'm completely exhausted.
To Be Continued (and you're going to howl over day two)....