The Old Man Is Snoring...
They may be called "nursery rhymes," or "childhood rhymes," but some of them are still quite apt as adult reading/thinking fare. Here in L.A., it's definitely raining and pouring. It's been raining on and off all day, and quite steadily all evening. There's no indication this is going to be the mother of all storms, or as bad as the monster we contended with in early January, but it's a storm that's here to stay for the time being.
On the plus side, the car is getting a free bath. I rarely take it to the car wash anymore, unless I need a thorough cleaning in and out. Our flowers/plants out on the balcony (yes, we have one, and we don't even need to purchase a penthouse condo! Wonders!) won't need to be watered for a while, at least. Best of all, maybe my allergies will be temporarily alleviated for a short time. Oh, and once the skies clear sufficiently, we're going to have clean air and fantastic views for a few hours at minimum.
L.A. Tourism's dirty secret: all those postcards you receive in the deepest, darkest corners of the upper Midwest in late January, with snowdrifts over 12 feet high, that show a bright, sunny, deep blue, *clear* Southern California sky with downtown L.A. (or maybe beautiful downtown Burbank (they should have re-named the Burbank airport for Johnny Carson, not Bob Hope!))? The postcards that have you humming "Surfin' Safari" or the theme from "Route 66"? Those pictures were taken by professional photographers from key vantage points on bright winter days, *right after a storm or strong winds*. Yes, you read that right. There are about five days a year, give or take, where the atmosphere resembles downtown L.A. of 1910, not downtown L.A. in 2005. Look again at that postcard: see the San Gabriels in the background? The peaks are covered with a healthy dusting of snow. You're not likely to see that in July, when you come here with the rest of the world on your one week vacation to see "Hollywood," Dizzylan', and the beaches.
Postcards are fascinating though. The designs, graphics, even the type of photo shots give you a feel for the time, place, and atmosphere. Current ones have snazzy or refined type, with glossy photos of the subject at hand. Some of the older ones from the 60s and early 70s have scalloped borders with a white strip at the bottom, where the subject line is. The really old ones from the 1930s and earlier are black and white photos or hand-drawn paintings of the subject, colored by hand or otherwise tinted.
I don't really collect postcards, but the woman of the place does; she likes old-fashioned holiday postcards. I have just a handful of postcards, most with a personal connection of some sort. I have two of residential schools for the deaf: one of the old California School at Berkeley, and one of New Mexico School for the Deaf. I've visited both, and liked the architecture, which is partly why I purchased and owned them. I have a postcard of my great-grandfather's drug store in Carmel, on the Monterey peninsula. A couple of old family postcards (people used to send pictures of themselves as postcards, which I think is neat). That kind of thing.
Hopefully tomorrow I'll be able to get out of the house and take a walk or a drive, and enjoy the air and the views. I'm at the base of the "foothills" of the Santa Monica "Mountains", so I don't have a million-dollar view (but again, this isn't a million-dollar place I'm living in either, although the surrounding neighborhood is definitely full of million-dollar mortgages). What I do have is location, location, location. I'm currently sitting approximately five miles from the ocean. When you're on the Westside, any place west of Beverly Hills has fairly nice temperatures and reasonably clear skies, thanks to the ocean breezes. Any part of town east of Beverly Hills has increasingly dirty air and higher temperatures. Just a short walk up the hill, there's an eastward view of the San Gabriels in the distance. It can be especially pretty this time of year, with snow on the mountain. What this all means is my asthma (jeez, I'm starting to sound particularly "healthy" here-- allergies, and now asthma) isn't as aggravated as I feared it'd be when we moved down here. Not so for my allergies, unfortunately. I should have bought stock in Kleenex- at least that way I'd keep my money somehow.
So... it's raining, it's pouring, but this old man is kleenexing, rather than snoring.
On the plus side, the car is getting a free bath. I rarely take it to the car wash anymore, unless I need a thorough cleaning in and out. Our flowers/plants out on the balcony (yes, we have one, and we don't even need to purchase a penthouse condo! Wonders!) won't need to be watered for a while, at least. Best of all, maybe my allergies will be temporarily alleviated for a short time. Oh, and once the skies clear sufficiently, we're going to have clean air and fantastic views for a few hours at minimum.
L.A. Tourism's dirty secret: all those postcards you receive in the deepest, darkest corners of the upper Midwest in late January, with snowdrifts over 12 feet high, that show a bright, sunny, deep blue, *clear* Southern California sky with downtown L.A. (or maybe beautiful downtown Burbank (they should have re-named the Burbank airport for Johnny Carson, not Bob Hope!))? The postcards that have you humming "Surfin' Safari" or the theme from "Route 66"? Those pictures were taken by professional photographers from key vantage points on bright winter days, *right after a storm or strong winds*. Yes, you read that right. There are about five days a year, give or take, where the atmosphere resembles downtown L.A. of 1910, not downtown L.A. in 2005. Look again at that postcard: see the San Gabriels in the background? The peaks are covered with a healthy dusting of snow. You're not likely to see that in July, when you come here with the rest of the world on your one week vacation to see "Hollywood," Dizzylan', and the beaches.
Postcards are fascinating though. The designs, graphics, even the type of photo shots give you a feel for the time, place, and atmosphere. Current ones have snazzy or refined type, with glossy photos of the subject at hand. Some of the older ones from the 60s and early 70s have scalloped borders with a white strip at the bottom, where the subject line is. The really old ones from the 1930s and earlier are black and white photos or hand-drawn paintings of the subject, colored by hand or otherwise tinted.
I don't really collect postcards, but the woman of the place does; she likes old-fashioned holiday postcards. I have just a handful of postcards, most with a personal connection of some sort. I have two of residential schools for the deaf: one of the old California School at Berkeley, and one of New Mexico School for the Deaf. I've visited both, and liked the architecture, which is partly why I purchased and owned them. I have a postcard of my great-grandfather's drug store in Carmel, on the Monterey peninsula. A couple of old family postcards (people used to send pictures of themselves as postcards, which I think is neat). That kind of thing.
Hopefully tomorrow I'll be able to get out of the house and take a walk or a drive, and enjoy the air and the views. I'm at the base of the "foothills" of the Santa Monica "Mountains", so I don't have a million-dollar view (but again, this isn't a million-dollar place I'm living in either, although the surrounding neighborhood is definitely full of million-dollar mortgages). What I do have is location, location, location. I'm currently sitting approximately five miles from the ocean. When you're on the Westside, any place west of Beverly Hills has fairly nice temperatures and reasonably clear skies, thanks to the ocean breezes. Any part of town east of Beverly Hills has increasingly dirty air and higher temperatures. Just a short walk up the hill, there's an eastward view of the San Gabriels in the distance. It can be especially pretty this time of year, with snow on the mountain. What this all means is my asthma (jeez, I'm starting to sound particularly "healthy" here-- allergies, and now asthma) isn't as aggravated as I feared it'd be when we moved down here. Not so for my allergies, unfortunately. I should have bought stock in Kleenex- at least that way I'd keep my money somehow.
So... it's raining, it's pouring, but this old man is kleenexing, rather than snoring.
posted by Mr. Sandman | 10:51 PM
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