I always tell others than I am a true California girl and simply am a Utah resident but lately I am feeling more like a Utahan. I was going to title this blog “Things I don’t see in Provo” but I think once you read on you’ll see that the chosen title is the correct one. I found myself surprised, aghast, and afraid on one too many occasions while in California last week visiting my family.
On simply the road trip there I found my knuckles getting white as I braved the 5:00pm traffic down the El Cajon pass and through the San Bernardino area. Cars were whizzing past me at 90 miles an hour while I was going a good 70 mph! I realized quickly that I shouldn’t be traveling in the fast land going at such a turtle’s pace but I could hardly merge over as the cars literally were whizzing past me. I arrived at my parents’ house all frazzled and tense. The very next day my sister Carolyn drove me into L.A. to go to the fashion district and to Chinatown. Now, I knew Carolyn had a lead foot, but I quickly realized she had become Mr. Toad—she had become the crazy drivers that were cutting me off the entire day previously. The girl can weave and merge and slam on her brakes like no one else. And she has a temper too which explains her little Tinkerbelle ‘wind chime’ that hangs from her rear view mirror that she slaps an
d screams out, like Frank Constanza, “Serenity now!” when things just aren’t going her way on the 10 freeway. Yea, you just keep saying that Carolyn, like a mantra. It’s bound to work. (I could write a whole blog on Carolyn’s driving. But I won’t. It’d sure be good though.) I'm guessing other L.A. commuters have their own version of Tinkerbelle that gets them through the commute.
Later on in the week we went shopping at the Victoria Gardens shopping center to visit the lovely Crate and Barrel. As we exited the shop I was gleeful at the prospect of using my new individual gratin dishes when I spotted a cross dresser. He passed me, I stopped, and then turned around because I couldn’t believe my eyes. A man in a dress, carrying a purse, wearing high heels with hairy legs? Was it wrong of me to turn around and stare? Truly I just kept wondering why not shave your legs if you’re going to go to all the trouble of getting a matching purse for your outfit! See, none of the other shoppers were surprised. What’s wrong with me? Later on that night Carolyn and I were heading to Claremont to have dinner at the Harvard Café when I saw a lady of the night in Pomona on Holt avenue. Now, no surprise there, but she wasn’t wearing any pants—just her skivvies. Aren’t they issued at least a tiny skirt?
And let’s not forget the cars that are dedicated to dead relatives. Those always make me do a double take. I just don’t see those kinds of things in Provo. Please re-read that last line with a high-pitched Barbie-like and naïve voice. Yea, now you get what I’m saying. I’m becoming soft. You see, the longer I live away from California, the softer I become. Yup, it’s killing me to admit it, but I am getting soft, and I’m not just talking about my thighs. Pass the fry sauce.
On simply the road trip there I found my knuckles getting white as I braved the 5:00pm traffic down the El Cajon pass and through the San Bernardino area. Cars were whizzing past me at 90 miles an hour while I was going a good 70 mph! I realized quickly that I shouldn’t be traveling in the fast land going at such a turtle’s pace but I could hardly merge over as the cars literally were whizzing past me. I arrived at my parents’ house all frazzled and tense. The very next day my sister Carolyn drove me into L.A. to go to the fashion district and to Chinatown. Now, I knew Carolyn had a lead foot, but I quickly realized she had become Mr. Toad—she had become the crazy drivers that were cutting me off the entire day previously. The girl can weave and merge and slam on her brakes like no one else. And she has a temper too which explains her little Tinkerbelle ‘wind chime’ that hangs from her rear view mirror that she slaps an
d screams out, like Frank Constanza, “Serenity now!” when things just aren’t going her way on the 10 freeway. Yea, you just keep saying that Carolyn, like a mantra. It’s bound to work. (I could write a whole blog on Carolyn’s driving. But I won’t. It’d sure be good though.) I'm guessing other L.A. commuters have their own version of Tinkerbelle that gets them through the commute.Later on in the week we went shopping at the Victoria Gardens shopping center to visit the lovely Crate and Barrel. As we exited the shop I was gleeful at the prospect of using my new individual gratin dishes when I spotted a cross dresser. He passed me, I stopped, and then turned around because I couldn’t believe my eyes. A man in a dress, carrying a purse, wearing high heels with hairy legs? Was it wrong of me to turn around and stare? Truly I just kept wondering why not shave your legs if you’re going to go to all the trouble of getting a matching purse for your outfit! See, none of the other shoppers were surprised. What’s wrong with me? Later on that night Carolyn and I were heading to Claremont to have dinner at the Harvard Café when I saw a lady of the night in Pomona on Holt avenue. Now, no surprise there, but she wasn’t wearing any pants—just her skivvies. Aren’t they issued at least a tiny skirt?
And let’s not forget the cars that are dedicated to dead relatives. Those always make me do a double take. I just don’t see those kinds of things in Provo. Please re-read that last line with a high-pitched Barbie-like and naïve voice. Yea, now you get what I’m saying. I’m becoming soft. You see, the longer I live away from California, the softer I become. Yup, it’s killing me to admit it, but I am getting soft, and I’m not just talking about my thighs. Pass the fry sauce.
3 comments:
I'm totally a softie too. The last time we went to California, I was dying on the freeway. I felt like Grandpa Winward complaining about all the darn people everywhere. Your not weird to stop and stare at a cross dresser. I lived in Eugene for 6 years and five of those spent at working at the University of Oregon. I just couldn't get over some of the odd ball stuff that you see there.
When can I order up a diaper bag? I am desperate for something new! Otherwise, I will have to high tail it for Target or TJ Maxx. I rather have your stuff, though.
Yeah, well at least on our freeways you won't fall asleep! Keeps the adrenaline pumpin'!
Commuting to LA for 28 years and still not one accident for me........................
Dad
dad, that has got to be a record of some sort. how could you find out? there is no way most (if any) L.A. commuters could beat your record of accident-free commuting.
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