Adventures in La Mirada

La Mirada, or "the look" as our southern neighbors would say, dawned crisp and sunny this morning. Or so I’m told. I didn’t see the dawn, as I was sleeping off the effects of finishing a newspaper in the early hours of the morning, coupled with insomnia brought on by my vexatious habit of forming my grocery list as I'm falling asleep. This results in me laying in bed at 3 a.m. thinking, eggs....bread....I'M SO TIRED WHY CAN'T I SLEEP....yogurt...granola….

So when I finally woke up, I was delighted to see my Blog Accomplice, Abigail M. Schilling, standing in the hallway about to embark on a trip to Starbucks. And because about 2/3 of my bloodstream is comprised of nonfat upside-down caramel macchiatos, I said "Can I come? Can I come?" and Abigail said, "Yes but I'm leaving RIGHT NOW." Which resulted in this:



I know that this is the back view, but I really don't think the Internet is ready for the front version. Because I have a lot of hair. A. Lot. And it was all knotted and pouffy from my hard night, and I looked kind of like a crazy-eyed lion tamer slash transient wearing a wig I found in a dumpster. I tried to hide it with the hood, but it kept creeping out from the sides. It has a mind of its own, and apparently, it decided it wanted to be seen. Which is sad news, because our run through the Starbucks drive-thru unveiled an unbelievably hot Barista working the window. Shoot, I ordered my drink extra hot, not my Barista.

Here's a taste of the eye candy Mr. Hot Barista got when we rolled up in the Green Monster: