Love Affair

I fall in love with places.

I don't know what comes first;

the pull to go to a certain city or the experiences, once I'm there, that leave an indelible mark.

My heart is lassoed to three locations:

New York City, Los Angeles, and Palm Springs.

Lucky me, this week I was in all three.

New York City was my first love, and it still makes my heart skip a beat.

It was the metropolis that cast the largest shadow on my suburban home town.

Frankie sang about it. Ann Marie inhabited it.  My ancestors settled there.

When I envisioned myself post college, tossing my hat up in the air,
the backdrop was always Manhattan.

My inevitable future.

Los Angeles took me by surprise.

In my late 20s, my unexpected restlessness caught me off guard.

The City of Angels teased me like a siren coaxing a sailor.  I had no choice, but to acquiesce.

I left not knowing if I'd return, but I never truly considered going back.

LA found me.

It gave me mountains to climb, an inspiring career and a home to entertain in.

When I started to shift my life to include Palm Springs

I was unaware the joy it would give me and for how long.

My heart thrives in the desert's glowing light, and arid climate.

There are other places that, every so often, whisper my name.

Perhaps, one day they will take root

and blossom into a love affair.

Twentysomething Boyfriend

Bates Motel

French artist Vincent Lamouroux has turned Silver Lake's

dilapidated old motel at Sunset and Bates

into a temporary public art space called  Projection.

The structure and trees were sprayed bright white with an ecologically safe limewash.

It's intended to both attract attention and disrupt the colorful "commercial landscape" that surrounds it on this part of bustling Sunset Boulevard.

Based on the number of people who are stopping to take in the sight,

it seems to be doing both.

The building has been vacant for decades and will be demolished soon

to make way for a 122-unit building with 5,000 square feet of combined retail and restaurant space,

a 4,519-square-foot gym/recreational space for residents,

and 165 parking spaces in two levels of underground parking.

Read:  more traffic.

The Gift

The Gift

Time wants to show you a different country. It's the one
that your life conceals, the one waiting outside
when curtains are drawn, the one Grandmother hinted at
in her crochet design, the one almost found
over at the edge of the music, after the sermon.

It's the way life is, and you have it, a few years given.
You get killed now and then, violated
in various ways. (And sometimes it's turn about.)
You get tired of that. Long-suffering, you wait
and pray, and maybe good things come- maybe
the hurt slackens and you hardly feel it any more.
You have a breath without pain. It is called happiness.

It's a balance, the taking and passing along,
the composting of where you've been and how people
and weather treated you. It's a country where
you already are, bringing where you have been.
Time offers this gift in its millions of ways,
turning the world, moving the air, calling,
every morning, "Here, take it, it's yours."

 

William Stafford

The Gift
Time wants to show you a different country. It’s the one
that your life conceals, the one waiting outside
when curtains are drawn, the one Grandmother hinted at
in her crochet design, the one almost found
over at the edge of the music, after the sermon….
It’s a balance, the taking and passing along,
the composting of where you’ve been and how people
and weather treated you. It’s a country where
you already are, bringing where you have been.
Time offers this gift in its millions of ways,
turning the world, moving the air, calling,
every morning, “Here, take it, it’s yours.”
– William Stafford
- See more at: http://www.adesignsovast.com/2015/05/time-offers-this-gift-in-its-millions-of-ways/#sthash.hCECqQGL.dpuf

The Gift
Time wants to show you a different country. It’s the one
that your life conceals, the one waiting outside
when curtains are drawn, the one Grandmother hinted at
in her crochet design, the one almost found
over at the edge of the music, after the sermon….
It’s a balance, the taking and passing along,
the composting of where you’ve been and how people
and weather treated you. It’s a country where
you already are, bringing where you have been.
Time offers this gift in its millions of ways,
turning the world, moving the air, calling,
every morning, “Here, take it, it’s yours.”
– William Stafford
- See more at: http://www.adesignsovast.com/2015/05/time-offers-this-gift-in-its-millions-of-ways/#sthash.hCECqQGL.dpuf

The Ennis House

Was lucky to tour Frank Lloyd Wright's Ennis House today.

Gorgeous concrete structure rising like a Mayan temple in the hills overlooking Hollywood.

Wright was not a skilled engineer, nor did he seem to care if his homes were uninhabitable.

Prior to occupation, the house leaked, and has continued to leak for 90 years.

Wright's solution, "Get a bucket.", 

was not well received, and the Ennis' fired him.

Completing the house they veered from Wright's vision, and added

 marble floors and wrought iron details which made the architect seethe.

Forty years later he was rehired by a new owner to add a pool and billiard room.

The current owner is restoring the house with many of Wright's original details and furnishings.

The major undertaking is making the house impervious to leaks.

Four years into the restoration project,

problems are being solved as new issues are being discovered.

Years away from being completed, the house will most likely never be a residence again, but a living museum to FLW's vision and stubbornness.

Woodstock

During a post dinner, let's open another bottle of wine, late night conversation

we hatched a plan to take a road trip, the following Friday, to Woodstock.

Our history takes us way back to Catholic elementary school.

Blue plaid uniforms, slumber parties, and school yard antics.

Our friendship is more like a sisterhood.  

The next morning, in a more lucid state, we didn't waiver on our plan,

nor did we change our minds mid-week.

Another friend, whom we met in our 20s in NYC,

had recently moved to Woodstock, a place she had been frequenting for decades.

Her entrepreneurial spirit had been tugging her towards change.

Several months ago she left the East Village,

and made the Ulster County town her permanent home.

We wanted to see the new store she opened along a stream that traverses Main Street.

Distracted by stories, and each other's company, we drove an hour out of our way.

Unfazed, we turned around.  It's about the journey, anyway.

We were giddy the entire day.

Bursts of uncontrollable laughter, and talking all at once

made us unsuitable for public places.

We switched our lunch order to go so we could fall off chairs

 and clutch our stomachs in private.

Some days are magical;
the perfect alchemy of people, time and place.

This was one of those days.