Out and about

It was a busy week in an otherwise completely uneventful summer, so far.

Fourth of July is probably my favorite holiday. It's usually warm and sunny, I love seeing fireworks, and I usually take a few days off from work to hang out with friends, hit a few parties and BBQs and throw back a few drinks without the stress and family obligations of Thanksgiving or Christmas. But this year, July 4th fell on a Wednesday, and without a long weekend to extend the festivities, no one seemed to have any big plans or any interest in making any.

My sister and I spend most of our holidays in different places, but we've always shared core groups of friends, and we've hung out together nearly every 4th of July I can remember. Growing up, our house was always the gathering place, taking over the large backyard to drink and smoke ourselves silly, throw watermelons in the pool, stuff ourselves with heavily-frosted red, white and blue cakes (which my friend Christa would tipsily and accidentally drop without fail) and fire up my dad's homemade cannon. Dana decided to have a small BBQ at her place on the 3rd. So even though we were far from my parents' New Jersey yard and the usual Indepence Day suspects, we kept up the tradition as best we could.

Stupid Act # 1 occurred when Al and I drove over to her house right after work. I pulled into a parking spot on the street, and as I got close to the curb, I heard a grinding sound... a popping sound... and then a hissing sound. Turns out I got my tire too close to the curb, which was ripped up and jagged in one small spot. Of course this was the exact spot I hit, and the broken concrete ripped a hole in the side of my tire. I watched as the tire slowly deflated, along with my hopes for an incident-free holiday, and then I called AAA. The tow-truck came, changed out the tire, and we began the festivities.

Wednesday was a big birthday for Al. Again, no one seemed to be doing very much for the holiday, so we decided to have a low-key celebration, sitting by the pool, going to dinner in Culver City, hitting the Coldstone Creamery for some desert, and then hanging out on our balcony to catch the local fireworks show. It wasn't the debaucherous, rowdy and intoxicated 4th either of us were used to, but we managed to avoid any accidents or incidents, so I considered the day a success.

Stupidity #2, however, was just around the corner. On Friday, I left work early, and rather than going home, I decided to run some errands and do some grocery shopping. I was dawdling a bit, figuring that Al would have left for work before I got home and I would get some nice, peaceful "me time" for the afternoon. When I pulled into the garage, however, Al was still in the driveway, sweaty, flustered and cursing. His car wouldn't start; it was stuck halfway in our tandem spot, and he was late for work. So he left the car where it was, I loaded him in my car and drove him to work, with my car full of frozen food.

After picking him up from work a few hours later, I decided to go back to the Kwik-E-Mart so Al could see it firsthand. The line was shorter than it had been the first time, but they were also out of almost all the Simpsons goodies. We managed to get some Buzz Cola and a few doughnuts before we headed home. When we got back, Al went to put the car in neutral so we could push the dead car to the front of the spot. On a whim, he decided to give the car one more try. He turned the key, and with no pressing need to use the car at this point, it started right up. D'oh!

Saturday was a long-awaited concert event: my first trip to the Hollywood Bowl, to see one of my favorite bands, The Decemberists, play a once-in-a-lifetime show with the LA Philharmonic Orchestra. Having never been there, I hadn't realized 1) what a monsterously large venue it was, 2) you could bring coolers, snacks and drinks in, rather than having to pay for high-priced concert snacks and 3) that no matter where we parked, it would require a lengthy walk.

Figuring the trek would be no more than a few blocks, I had worn an old pair of flipflops. They're comfortable for standing for long periods of time, but they're not particularly suited for walking long distances, especially uphill, where they tend to slide right off my feet. We ended up parking more than a mile or so from the Bowl, and as there were hundreds of fellow concertgoers walking along the streets of Hollywood with us, we had set a brisk pace for ourselves. Unfortunately, my shoes weren't interested in moving that fast, and thus Stupidity # 3 struck. One of my flipflops got stuck in uneven pavement, and before I could stop myself, I took a spectacular diving fall, splattering onto the ground and splaying my bag, sunglasses, keys and random purse contents all over the place. It was one of those slow-motion dives, where you know it's going to happen just before it actually does, and where you wish it was someone else, so that you could have watched the whole thing transpire-- as I've said before NOTHING is funnier than watching someone fall down. Luckily, I recovered from the trip with no more than a slightly bruised hand, and a wish that someone had caught the fall on video.

After I amused the crowd with my near face-plant, I got up, brushed myself off, and continued on our uphill trip to the bowl. By the time we got there, I was sore, sweaty, blistered and bruised, and couldn't wait to get to my seat... and stay there for a few hours.

Our seats were waaaaaay in the back of the Bowl (requiring more limping. Next time I will remember to wear sneakers). The whole orchestra was like a tiny toy set at that distance, but the sound was amazing. The show was wonderful, though the set list -- comprised of some of the band's more orchestrally-arranged music -- was a bit lacking in the band's usual energy and exuberance. I enjoyed the music, but I felt far-removed from the action, and since our seats were apparently in the chatty, karaoke-singing, cell-phone obsessed section, I can't say I enjoyed it as much as seeing them in small clubs. I was more than ready to get a head start on the crowds by leaving during the first encore song.

So after a busy, hectic week, I now return to my regularly scheduled ennui.