When I landed in LA I went straight out to the curb to wait for Jonathan to pick me up. A few minutes later, some other car pulled up and parked right in front of me, and after a moment I caught that particular breed of furtive movement out of the corner of my eye. I immediately got that "uh oh" feeling, but I still looked over at him, nice and casual. The passenger's window was rolled down and I could see right into his lap, where he was gripping away at something. For a second I thought it was a rolled-up magazine, but then I realized that, no, it was his totally erect penis, all wrapped in the bottom of his tee-shirt (when I told the story to Jill, at first she thought I meant that the penis was wearing a little, matching tee-shirt ... we amused ourselves for a good while, imagining little costumes -- hand-knitted sweaters and rabbit suits -- that people might sew for their peepers or dildos). Nice!

Of course later I came up with all sorts of things I wish I'd said to him, "I see you packed light!" or "I think this zone is meant for a different kind of unloading," or just "Uggrheww!" And it would have been nice if I'd thought to get his licence plate number. But all I did was gather up my stuff and shuffle a few spots up the curb. Just as I did, Jonathan pulled up, and as I threw my bags into the car, I pointed at the peeping creepy and yelled, "Do you see him? He's got his dick out! His dick! It's out!" Jonathan was still back on, "wait, what?" when the man zoomed away.

On the ride home, Jonathan and I speculated about why kind of fetish the guy had. Was it for women with baggage? Women who stand? More likely, the airport is simply a place where he can easily expose himself without having to leave the comfort and safety of his car. I bet ladies in fast-food drive-throughs get it all the time. Or, you know, people who work in clothing stores.

Back in college, I worked at Cotton Basics, a store that, and you're not going to believe this, sold nothing but cotton outfits. One day this guy wearing cop shades came into the store and tried on sweat pants for like 45 minutes. He left the curtains pretty much wide open the entire time he was back in the changing room. My coworker (and one of my all-time-favorite people) Anne and I knew something odd was going on, so we gave the dressing room a wide berth the entire time he was there. When he finally finished, he came over to the cash register where we were sitting and told us in a pervert-robot voice that "Those things don't fit." I could see beads of sweat standing out all over his face. And I could smell him ... salted sunflower seeds, exactly. Of course when I went back to clean up the dressing room, I found he'd left us a little something extra. I went to pick the pile 100% cotton clothes off the floor and ... felt something. Then I wind-sprinted to the bathroom for a seriously Silkwood scrub-down.

Jonathan drove me back to their house, via In and Out of course, and he, Sophia, and I chitchatted as late as parents with three kids under the age of three can manage to stay awake (10pm or so). I stayed up typing until 2am then conked out on their red, red couch (my all-time favorite sleeping venue).

At 6am, I woke to the feeling of little fingers gripping and patting my hair. Groggily, I turned over and smiled and croaked, "Hey, Dinah!" And she screamed and screamed and ran away as fast as her chubby legs could carry her. After the half-hour or so it took for her to stop weeping and clinging to her mama's legs and her dado's chest, we figured out that she probably thought I was a kitty cat or something cute and small, which awfully, terribly, morphed into a stranger lady. So anyway, yeah, it took awhile for her to warm up to me.

Later that day, Sophia and I dropped Lulu and Dinah off at their grandmother's house and took baby Rex with us while we ran some female-type errands.

We started by getting Sophia the worst hair cut of her life. Some people at her work had recommended this guy who worked out of the back of a beauty supply store. He had grey, feathered hair and wore tight, faded, black jeans and cowboy boots, had a poster of Shakira on his wall ("she's a famous singer and actress in her country ... we're lucky she sings for us at all!"), and did all his cutting standing up. He also had this amazing double-comb style, where he went at her hair like a boxer on a speed bag. Anyway, she ended up with this triangle of hair, a sort of Darth Vadar helmet thing.

As we marveled over the hideousness of her hair, we drove over to the eyebrow place, where Sophia and I got our brows waxed (plus I got my lashes dyed ... such a good solution for girls like me who don't have the skill to put on makeup, nor the presence of mind to keep themselves from absently smudging it all over their faces once they've got it on). Jutah, the eye lady whom we've been going to for years now, asked Sophia how long it's been. "Oh, over four years ... since before the babies," Sophia confessed. "Babies are no excuse," Jutah said in her amazing, Transylvanian-ish accent, "for terrible eyebrows." Ha!

Then we went to Mishima for lunch and got ourselves a peek at Gavin Rossdale. At first I just thought, "man, that guy looks exactly like Gavin Rossdale!" because I hadn't settled back into the LA mindset yet (star-spotting is so usual an occurrence down there, you stop writing people off as mere look-alikes ... plus you learn to pick up on the change of atmosphere that surrounds a star, and notice the halo of people actively trying not to stare). But then a driver stepped out of a fancy Mercedes with tinted windows and handed the rockstar-looking-guy into the back of the car and I realized, "hey, that is Gavin Rossdale!" And Gwen? That is one extra-rare strip of boy meat. Kudos!

The next day was Lulu's birthday, which meant lots of cake, and presents too. She was totally awesome with her gifts -- she'd get so excited about each one, she'd stop and read the book or play with the toy, and would completely lose all interest in the rest of her booty. Eventually she let Dinah help unwrap everything. (What three year old lets her little sister open her presents? What a complete alien. The best kind of alien!)

The rest of the time I was in LA, I spent trying to grab naked babies as they ran around the back yard. And EATING. I squeezed in coffee and cinnamon rolls with foxophiles Tom and Mouki (and ran into old faves Justin and Deborah, a yayful surprise). Mary and Stephanie, who were awfully pretty and funny, took me out for Singapore Slings, which made me talk way too much. Also Jeff and his cute girlfriend, Teva, and I went out for dinner. (I don't know what it is, but even though it's been like 4,000 years since he and I dated, I still found myself looking out for similarities between the Teva and myself, looking for some sort of pattern that defined us both as Jeff's "type" ... pale girls, maybe?)

Oh and I went and got a ridiculous amount of Korean food with China, who ravished me with all sorts of spectacular advise and insight. She also has really hott hair right now.

And even with all that visiting, there was still a bunch of friends and family that I managed to miss seeing. So I'm going to head back down for a longer trip ASAP. I promise!

(PS: My diary has officially moved over to my official evany.com website. Let's meet up over there!)

(PS: My diary has officially moved over to my official evany.com website. Let's meet up over there!)