Homes, A Lost Blog Entry.

I am attempting to recreate a blog entry which had failed to post (or save, for that matter), while going mobile during the holidays. Can't recall all that I had blogged within that particular moment chillin' at the Philly airport, but here goes..

After finding my departure location in Terminal C, I cruised around in search of the Dunkin' Donuts of my past viaje - a quick stroll across the concourse of Terminal B's food court and gates and, at the very end, a single patron stood between myself and the Dunkin'.


Glorious. It is truly the little things that make the monumental differences in life. Especially after checking two bags and deciding to bring a guitar with me, plus shelling out extra cash for the oh-so-eternally-disintegrating airline industry (in this case, for checking bags). (OACUN, does anyone actually buy those adult onesies from SkyMall magazine?) Then that flight with all the kids and screaming babies...

It's been tough trying to avoid shopportunities knocking - stores are seemingly inches away from having their salespeople beat shoppers with sticks holding up signs denoting drastically deep discounts. One day. It'll be on Youtube.

After escaping the chilly 17 degree F weather in Philly, I must say it is peachy to return to LA's warmer climes.

As a transplant in this crazy town, I always look back with no less than a spark of surprise that I've somehow ended up here; with no urging from anyone I knew, and three thousand miles away from family. This year - hmm. Thoughts on the economy, mistakes made, goals accomplished, personal and spiritual growth as an adult.

Okay - so much thought weighing over the economy. I resolved to do something differently - save more money, brown bag more lunches, cut back on tix to the ArcLight, cook at home. A couple days back in town and I was whipping out bowls of pasta, chicken parmesan and roasted potatoes. I even bought two new cookbooks from the One Dollar Book Store in "beautiful downtown Burbank." Vamos a ver, supongo.

Hmm. Back in LA. Back in town. But there was something irreplaceable - undeniably genuine about spending time in my parents' house - is that it feels like a home, not just a few friends thrown together in an apartment in a post-college haze. (And LA apartments, in my experience, have become a dime-a-dozen, and subsequently a depressing part of the Angeleno landscape.)

Back to work. What a long commute it was this morning.

Homes.

It was nice to be recuperating from the flu while in my parents' house, in my old bedroom (with orange marmalade-painted walls - I know, delicioso, no?) in the chilly Northeast which I grew up in. The gripes here, then, would be the weather, of course, and the fact that its me, living in my parents house for the week.

There's something about it - being in a house, with family, that has this undeniably genuine feeling of home to it - which LA has never quite created. The dime-a-dozen apartments in LA - well, it was nice to be in a home, and not in a setting which can't help but feel like a few kids thrown together in a vague post-college haze.

Pardon me. My tastebuds are abuzz from an OD of Herr's Salt & Vinegar potato chips. If you know what I'm talking about, you know. Comes in a white bag. And if you're lucky enough, you too may experience how 'America runs on Dunkin'.'. Thank God for Terminal B, PHL.