I heart LA

Something has shifted over the past few weeks, or was it the past year? maybe it was when we discovered 'dainties' the fantastic cupcake bakery two blocks from our house, inconspicuously wedged behind Winchell's and Chicken Zankou. Maybe it's that the weather is amazing- 70 degrees most days of the year- crowned with a sky perfected by ocean breezes and unblemished by drizzle. Maybe it's that we started going to the beach more often and Ian's tried his hand (er... legs) at surfing. Or that we live just down the street from the temple, or that I love the jackarannas that burst out in spring on the avenues, like Anne of Green Gable's white way of delight only gorgeous purple. Or maybe it's the sweeet park just a brisk jaunt from our front door with the lovely cool creek perfect for bare little tootsies, or the new H&M that opened last year at the Beverly Center. It's got to be one of those things, because Los Angeles feels like home the way no place has in a very long time.
i know LA's got a bit of a shady past- the city is watered by subterfuge, General Motor's robbed us of a good public transportation system, and housing prices skyrocketed since we got here. Yes, it's not perfect- Los Angeles has too many broke waiter-actors, too many insecure old dudes who feel the need to buy Hummers. People complain LA's got no culture, no architecture, no... soul. But if you should find yourself here, somewhere in the Los Angeles sprawl- somewhere not too far from the gorgeous Union Station, the hallowed old MGM studio lot where Ian works (now Sony Studios), or yummy Pinkberry's on a little leaguers night, let's just say that there is no doubt about this: there are far worse places to wind up.