i flip for a new joint.
The indoor light was gloomy, the food was bland, and people were more pungent because it was so difficult to wash clothes and bodies.
One year ago: We see Austin Powers 2.
Two years ago: Feel the fear. Yup, it's been felt.
Three years ago: I discuss theology with a TV writer.
Four years ago: I drink margaritas and twist my ankle.
Today's news question:How long did Hafez El-Assad rule Syria? Who is his successor, and how long is he expected to rule Syria?
(Don't send me your answers. This is just a little way to expand your horizons. Honest.)
The problem with waiting for Pookie to take a nap is that I never know when she's going to nap, or for how long. I think she's been asleep for two hours now. And I keep thinking, Oh, this would be a good time to attack those boxes and start shelving books on my brand-new bookshelves, but I don't want to start doing that only to have her wake up.
Yes, I have finally looked into getting a nanny/babysitter/babyholder for 20 hours a week so I can do things like dig through the 20+ book boxes we've stored in the guest room.
On Saturday I had a Pookie-free hour, so I went to Borders, where I discovered they were having a promotion for a restaurant guide called Hungry: A Guide to L. A.'s Diners, Dives, Coffee Shops & Cafeterias. The promotion involved a few restaurants providing food for the bookstore browser to taste. My kind of promotion.
I got too late to the Les Sisters' table to taste their jambalaya, but if their buttermilk pie is any indication, I am going to love their restaurant. It's in Chatsworth -- I know, I know, that was my first question too: where the hell is Chatsworth? -- but since Cafe N'awlins went out of business, I have been wondering where all the good Cajun food is around here, and perhaps I have found some.
Another coffee shop, Barron's, had a sign saying, "Best pancakes in LA!" and they had cinnamon rolls to taste. Yummy, yummy cinnamon rolls. I thought it likely we would be by to try their pancakes.
Yesterday Fernando, Darin, Pookie, and I drove to Barron's, which was closed on Sunday. Damn. We kept driving down Burbank Blvd. and passed a coffee shop that was full to overflowing with people enjoying a Sunday brunch. I said, "Want to try there?" Darin was underwhelmed by the idea, but since we don't rappel down cliffs or take expensive drugs, designer or not, we have to get our live-on-the-edge kicks somehow, so I parked and we ate.
Wasn't very good. Oh well. I eat less that way.
Last night Darin's parents arrived -- his mom is here for a week stay, his dad was on his way to Hong Kong -- and this morning we went back to Barron's, which was open this time. Very funky decor, lackadaisical but friendly service, and very tasty pancakes and French toast. We're going back there, believe you me.
The most amazing thing about this place was that the four of us ate there for $20. That's usually how much breakfast costs for Darin and me no matter where we eat.
My new bookcases -- the ones I bought back in January -- finally arrived last week. All the crap in my office had to be boxed up and moved to the guest room so that the old shelves could be removed and the fresh new shelves brought in.
There was quite a lot of buildup of crap along with the good stuff on the old shelves, so I have a lot to go through. The way it works is this: I go through all of the boxes, taking out what I'm sure I want and think Darin wants. Anything I'm sure is garbage -- for example, old scripts or books I don't want any more -- gets put in either the trash or the giveaway pile. Everything else gets left for Darin to go through.
I am not looking forward to this. Mostly because the second half of the exercise is out of my control: whenever Darin wants to go through it, he'll go through it. If the condition of our den (where we've been storing the rest of the junk in our house) is any indicator, he'll never do it.
I am not much more better at getting things done, particularly now that we have a baby. But I did call the domestic agency about getting a nanny. Now I just have to decide what hours I want a stranger in my home watching my child! Yes, I know I'll be home 85% of the time, so it's not like I won't be around to see what's going on, but it's still a freaky idea.
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Copyright 2000 Diane Patterson
Send comments and questions to diane@nobody-knows-anything.com