The bird is the word

I attended a party in Hollywood last night, my husband works on a TV show and last night they held the wrap party. As we crested the hill into Hollywood, I was struck by how strange it all was. I used to crave the star strewn, urine soaked streets with the glittered asphalt and silver robot men. I completely romanticized that weird little town proudly stating that the urine smell would be delightful! But now it makes me feel icky. Everyone is selling something, the valet, your server, even buildings. The essence of desperation (desperessence?) starts to seep in and I just feel sad. Everyone wants to be somebody and I just want to say, "You are."

It made me appreciate the little hamlet I call home. I live in the foothills of the San Gabriel mountains, walking distance to amazing hikes and streams. From my bedroom window, I have a view of downtown Los Angeles and it's as gorgeous as it is tiny. We are the home to feral parrots and wild peacocks.

I took this in front of my neighbors house this morning. We were getting in the car and he was right next to us. Hartwell exclaimed," Mom! A peacock!" I rounded the corner and...PEACOCK! I thought he was down the street! John heard his wailing recently and thinks he's looking for a wife. (Sorry, sir, I'm married).

The wild birds seem to be a great litmus test for the neighborhood. If you don't mind them, we'll like you. Which means my neighbors are all awesome. And I'm working hard to weasel my way into their lives. I don't want to miss out on an amazing story because I'm too busy to chat.

Urbandictionary.com defines "The Altadena Thing" as:

 When people stop while driving because they see someone they know walking on the sidewalk, and start talking to them, stopping traffic one way.

I have done this more than twice. As the driver and the pedestrian. Which makes me love my little unincorporated section of LA County all the more.