Earlier this week, my daughter,
Jeane, and I went over to hang out with my art daughter,
Kelly, play in our journals, and do retail therapy in LA and the surrounding areas. I know we were in Pasadena, Glendale, Hollywood, and LA, but beyond that, I just sat in the back seat and went with the flow as Kelly took us all the places we needed to go. I couldn't keep track and didn't have to worry because I knew we were in good hands. There were some crazy and fun things that happened on the trip including arriving at out hotel to be told our reservation had been moved to another hotel because they were completely full there. When I asked to speak with the manager of the hotel because I couldn't believe what I was being told, not only did we get a room, we got one on the top floor that included free breakfast each morning and fabulous munchies and beverages at night and free cold bottled water around the clock,
access to a computer and free internet service, fax machine, big screen TV, and all the kinds of stuff the big boys pay for. And upon returning home, I was delighted to find an email with a refund for half of our hotel bill. I guess it pays to just be polite and explain nicely about your side of the hotel situation. And then there was the earthquake. It only lasted a few minutes, but when you are on the 15
th floor and the curtain pull is seriously swaying, the conversation does get interesting. I just kept thinking about how there are people trained to design buildings for these types of scenarios, and I was hoping a top notch one had had a hand in the building we were in. Again, luckily, it only lasted a few minutes. Anyway, above is a bunch of pictures that I got while there. In no particular order, they are of Jeane and me opening surprises from Kelly, all of us trying out the
over-sized furniture in the hotel with me holding my nose because of the smell of the fresh paint on the tote bag, the chihuahu
a that met us at the door of Mood fabrics, flowers we saw on a walk, part of the aftermath of the retail therapy, the "appetizer" for one of our meals, and the store we found in the fabric part of the fashion district ironically called Journal Fabric. I honestly have no idea how they came up with that name and just kinda think they had no idea where most all of the fabric I got there was really headed. When I asked for half yards of some pieces, the guy looked at me like I had no idea how little that was and then he actually pulled that much off and pointed it out. I politely told him that was the correct amount I wanted. He just looked at me and then I just told him I wasn't making a dress, and that it was for an art project. Then he smiled and nodded his head. What I really wanted to say was, "Didn't you see the sign on the store when you came in to work this morning, Pal?" but I refrained. Ahhh, LA!