Lazy

At the Big Rock in Malibu

Lazy. That’s what I am. I have been writing (or saying I am writing) a review of something but I haven’t gotten around to actually putting digital pen to paper. I could write that it’s because I am enjoying the scent so much, and that’s part of it, but the pure fact of it I have just been lazy.

It’s been hot here. I know, it’s been hotter where you are, (with the possible exception of Portia) and I get that: we don’t normally get humidity and for the past few weeks we have. Not so much that I feel like I am out on the Bayou, or even in a sticky NYC apartment, but enough to remind me why I moved 3300 miles to get away from that. That feeling of swimming through the air rather than walking and those little moisture droplets acting like a million little magnifying glasses. Ick. No thanks. I’ll stick to the AC in the office thanks.

Reading about other people’s travels have made me want to take a trip. Where of course is the question: I may have Claridge’s taste but I have a Cracker Barrel budget. Plus there’s the weather ick factor. Anywhere that isn’t here (except Australia) is doubtless having worse weather.

Piuma Road in Malubu

I love that March is taking the train to visit Patty. I am in love with the idea of trains and train travel. Perhaps having been spoiled by movies from “Murder on the Orient Express”, “North by Northwest”, or even “Silver Streak” trains seemed more glam- even with those pesky murders. Of course the reality in the States is that for various reasons our trains aren’t glam. They might have names like Pacific Surfliner but they aren’t a real substitute for flying or sometimes even driving. Trains also aren’t cheaper and take longer here: A non-stop from LA to SF is $80 and an overnight trip while the plane is a little more than half that and much less time. (of course when you factor in the PITA quotient into the plane it might be a wash, and as I wrote in the comments on March’s post I think I’d rather be put in a medically induced coma and Fed-Exed rather than dealing with the tender mercies of Frontier or their ilk)

From Lago Vista Drive in Beverly Hills

So that leaves driving.

I love to drive. I hate to commute, but I love to drive. Commuting is sitting there in traffic, cursing the day everyone else was born, merrily ignoring the fact that by sitting there in your Belchfire SUX, latte in hand, crawling through the rush hour mess, you are not part of the problem, you ARE the problem. Driving is piloting your car along the road, preferably top down, feeling the breeze and stopping at whatever looks interesting. Enjoying the feeling of controlling the machine you’re in. Seeing different and new places, whether it’s a fruit stand, a store, an old house or just a field.

At Bart’s Books in Ojai (no Bionic Woman in sight)

For years California PBS had shows featuring Huell Howser, a Tennessee native and former Marine who came to Los Angeles originally as a correspondent for Entertainment Tonight. Eventually he joined the local PBS station, KCET, and started producing ½ hour shows showcasing various off-beat places in California. (some the shows can be seen online here) Californians of a certain age will always remember his boyish demeanor and honest joy at finding someplace that had anything from planes to persimmons. All of which were a drive (or two) from LA. I’ve done my own day trips, but if I ever did win Looto money, I’d be on a road trip, doubtless starting on California’s Gold.

Are you going anywhere these days? Love driving? Hate it? Sound off in the comments

Photos are my own.