Commuter Mind-set

I've been commuting for a month now, and what have I learned?

If I leave at 10, I get to work at 11.

If I leave at 10:05, I get to work at 11.

If I leave at 10:15, I get to work at 11.

If I leave at 10:20, I get to work at 11.

For some reason, convincing myself of this basic fact has proven challenging.

Here's what usually happens. At 10, I think, "I should probably get going...but no, it's okay, wait just a bit longer for traffic to clear out."

At 10:05 I think, "Getting closer... but DON'T LEAVE yet, it'll just be bumper-to-bumper at at the 101."

10:10: "Don't do it... just WAIT... STEADY, STEADY..."

10:20: "OMG, GO! GO!"

Clearly, 10:15 is the golden moment. My best time heading in is 37 minutes, which is only about 10 minutes longer than my old commute. Woohoo.

Other things I've learned since moving: Santa Clarita doesn't have a police station. They have a Sheriff's Department! I feel so Veronica Mars.

P.S. I also have a commuter tan now, i.e. my right arm up to my shirtsleeve is tan, and the rest of me is pale.

Okay But Seriously My New Commute is Notorious

As many of you know, I'm moving out of my apartment this week and I couldn't be more thrilled!! I love the townhome, I love having a garage and more space, I love the neighborhood, I love the park outside, I love the mountain view and I love the bike trails.

The only drawback is that now I'll have a real commute.

And not just any commute.

"The worst freeway in the country" commute.

Okay, sure. Everyone thinks theirs is the worst.

But check this out. L.A. made the list four times, and guess which one is mine?

I work slightly off-peak hours (11-7) and won't experience the 405 at its most insane (HOPEFULLY), so that's cool. Once I get my new library card I'll pick up a bunch of books on CD and try to make the most of it. Wish me luck...

New Area Code Angst

I'm moving this week (woo hoo) so as of March 1st I'll have a 661 home area code.

This is very strange.

In Los Angeles, as in many cities, your area code is part of your identity. Here's how it breaks down in SoCal:

323 = Miracle Mile, Hollywood, West Hollywood, some of Los Feliz and Silverlake (aka the middle of the city, a cool place to be, or maybe I just tell myself that because up until recently that was my area code)

310 = Beverly Hills, Westwood, Brentwood, UCLA, West L.A., the Beach (an interesting mixture of college students, moguls, famous people, and/or beachies)

818 = The Valley aka The Other Side of the Hill (Burbank, Studio City, Sherman Oaks, the urban sprawl, and Van Nuys, which is known for both the adult entertainment industry and, ironically, a place to raise a family)

213 = Downtown, slightly grittier, what 323 was before it was 323

But what the heck is 661? The suburbs? Time to face facts: my 20s are over. At least my cell phone remains 323.

The Trouble With Vintage Magic Posters

My husband and I would really like to decorate part of our new place with vintage magic posters, sort of like the ones seen in the gorgeous Taschen coffee table book, "Magic 1400s to 1950s."

The problem is, many of the promo sheets from a hundred or two hundred years ago feature demons or devils whispering in the magician's ear. Ideally we'd like a wall-spanning image of Carter or Thurston. Nothing says, "Welcome to our home!" like a 9 foot tall demon with gleaming eyes.

(I guess the search continues...)

In the Meantime Inbetween Time

I'm in limbo at the moment. Just finished some revisions on a previous novel, but I'm not quite ready to look at my newest novel (I like to take 6-8 weeks off after completing a first draft before diving in again, so I can hopefully see it more objectively).

My husband and I bought a townhome, but we can't move until we re-carpet, re-paint and pack up.

I just got a major hair cut (perhaps a teeeeensy bit too short) so I'm waiting for it to grow out a bit. (Yes, it's actually shorter than the photo above and to the right. I had it braid-able length for a while, and just chopped it off again.)

Can't believe it's already February. I'm between actions, poised and ready, with nowhere to go just yet.

These are the Elephants in my Neighborhood, In my Neighborhood, In my Neighborhoooood

It looks like we may have pulled off the townhome short sale. It was a cliffhanger up till the very end, waiting for close of escrow during a storm on Friday night. Joe and I walked around on Sunday taking photos* of our current neighborhood since it was such a beautiful day. I'll be posting some of the best ones throughout the month until we move.

I live near LACMA (L.A. County Museum of Art) and the Tar Pits, site of every California child's school field trip. These elephants are about two blocks from my current apartment.

(click to enlarge)

* And by that I mean he took all the photos