Languidly lolling in LA

For most of my trip to California, my little conscience voice nagged me. "I could totally live here, San Francisco is way more poppin than Portland. I miss the vegetation in Northern California. My friends here are ultra rad..." and so on and so forth. I was even feeling completely awesome on my overnight Greyhound bus ride from San Jose to L.A. (12:40 AM to 7:10 AM, woot!). Smiling gently, I partook in one person sleep yoga serenly shifting from side to side, feet on the footrest, feet off the footrest, right foot in the aisle, left knee bent, switch! Left leg straight, right knee bent....all the while the trundling southward together with every possible specimen of American society in the inky blue night. Then I arrived in Los Angeles. I began sweating the moment I exited the bus. After only a few hours of 100+ heat in the smoggy SoCal metropolis, my little conscience voice spoke once more. "GET ME THE CRAP OUT OF THIS TOWN!"

Don't get me wrong, our weekend was rockin. Lorrainne was an amazing hostess and our days were filled with Korean Spa, vintage dress and beach bliss. But actually desiring a return to Portland was a good note to end on.