This week in history

Yesterday I celebrated 11 months of living in LA (celebrated meaning I thought to myself, "ooh, I have a good blog topic for tomorrrow!") Feeling nostalgic, I re-read some old blog entries, and realized that this week also marked a.) the first time I came to LA, and b.) the last time I came to LA before the move.

You can read about my first trip here. Clearly, I was hooked from practically the moment the plane landed and the cab left the airport. One fun thing I left out of that story: While I waited for Ryan to pick me up from the hotel, I stood outside with Kim Cattrall, who looked fantastic. I stared in that star-struck way you're never supposed to.

My last trip-as-visitor is here (warning: it's long). Reading back, I am awfully proud of myself that I flew out here, rented a car when I hadn't driven in six years, drove it in - not only an area that was completely unfamiliar - but what I now know is one of the most insane driving cities in the country, navigated my way through one end of the city to the other (no exaggeration), and performed like a professional at two job interviews. All in 24 hours. You also have to realize that as a New Yorker, I never even drove myself to or from an airport, so I knew nothing about what to do at the gate if not hop in a cab.

What's funny, reading this now, is how close much of what I wrote about was to where I am living now. That part where I got off the wrong exit - that's my exit, and yes, it is still confusing even though I do it all the time. The Westside Pavillion - down the street. I can walk there (not that I do - we don't walk in LA). The area where I was driving in circles by the hotel - that was where Wilshire meets Little Santa Monica and then regular Santa Monica, which, by all standards, is completely nonsensical.

In hindsight, I think it was one of those things where I was just too stupid to be afraid, and by the time I realized what I had done it was all over. Thank god, because if I really had stopped to think about it, I don't know that I would have gone through with it. (Okay, yes I would.)

It was also this weekend last year that Rebecca told me she was pregnant, that I bought my favorite spring flats that I've since worn to death and lavender bag that I still carry every day. I feel like I should do something more monumental to mark this important week than sitting in my apartment, but my plans for the day don't include much more than hitting the gym and going food shopping. I guess next year at this time I will have to find something else to write about.