Woot Woot Weekend!

Can I get an amen for the weekend? I hope all of my Arizona friends and family are doing well. It's raining hard here in Los Angeles tonight, and I am content as a cat full of fish to be snuggled and cozy inside the Brentwood Chateau; the raindrops are taunting me outside my window pane. I smirk.

Friday night it was raining hard and after the gym I came home to find Roomie snuggled up on the couch, TV remote in hand. I couldn't resist the thought of Comfies (sweat pants), so I showered and changed. By the time Maryland Boy asked if I'd be up for a few drinks at the local Brentwood bar, I declined and told him I was in for the night. Roomie and I made breakfast for dinner (yum!) and had a Sex & the City DVD marathon. Could it get any better? Maybe. But I like to think not.

Saturday I drove up to Encino (a mere 15 minutes north of Brentwood if there's no traffic) to see my friend Chrissy's new condo, which is gorgeous. She made me a Greek feast for lunch and we saw that movie Juno in Woodland Hills. (Laughed a lot! I recommend). My brother came up from La Jolla in the afternoon and was seeking a hot Hollywood night. Okay...he didn't say that. What he said was more like, "Gee, I wouldn't mind going to Hollywood," but I knew what he meant. He wanted to see hot Hollywood women. And so it was. We hit up Hollywood, in between raindrops and traffic; sipped on vodka-redbulls and blended into the good looking crowd. I left the bar early because I wasn't feeling too great, but right after I left Vince Vaughn and Drew Barrymore arrived, so I misssed out on that, but I won't cry about it. (I've never been a huge Hollywood star gazer, I just don't care as much as others do).

Today I went to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA) with a good friend, an old PR friend. We strolled the galleries of Monet, Renoir; of ancient Egyptian mummies; Japanese calligraphy; impressionism; angels in oil; daggers dug up from mud and dusted off at burial sites; colonial period pottery and jeweled chalices. It was fantastic. We sipped on lattes in the damp courtyard and mingled with Dali lovers beneath the overcast Los Angeles sky. The last (and first) time I had hit up LACMA was three years ago, almost to the date. Must it always rain in Los Angeles in January? Yes, Virginia, it must.

We wanted to hit up the Getty; we desired those gorgeous gardens; those beautiful buildings (purchased high upon a mountain!), the serenity of it all. But that will be saved for a sunshiney day.

Cheers! Goodnight, Arizona. Goodnight, LA.