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Well, dear readers, here I am, back home after a peaceful flight to CA, a fairly wild time in CA, and a moderately disastrous return from CA. I can only be thankful that a) the plane didn’t fall out of the sky, and b) I still, by some miracle of genetics and coincidence, have a liver.

I shall summarize, because trying to describe the whole trip would make for a very long post.

Day The First: Indian food and drinking with three fabulous writers.

Day The Second: fondue, an entertaining death march through Venice Beach, color-coordinated harems, and drinking with four fabulous (and hilarious) writers.

NOTE: they sell medical marijuana in these amusing walk-in “clinics”Β  (no, I didn’t, and yes, I know you wondered) in Venice Beach. I say amusing because there is invariably some baked-out-of-his-gourd stoner standing out side, all red-eyed and happy, announcing that the Doctor is IN, people, get your prescription TODAY.

Day The Third: lunch at a wine bar with two fabulous writers, a drive to Pasadena with the Mr., dinner at the Cheesecake Factory (I know it’s generic, but we don’t have any of those in New England), and a few hours partying at my little brother’s bar, where we discovered the glories (and dangers) of Seagrams Sweet Tea Vodka.

Day The Fourth: my awesome niece, incredible tapas and flamenco dancing with The Mr. and one fabulous writer, after which we returned to the glories and dangers of Sweet Tea Vodka. Folks, don’t try this at home.




Day The Fifth: a well-deserved hangover, plus my awesome niece, and then an aborted attempt to fly home, which ended with 4.5 hours of sleep in a hotel and then another delay-fraught attempt to get home.


Maine looks so very boring right now.