I love to ride my bicycle. I love to ride my bike.

Now that work is a little bit closer, I've been riding the bus to and biking back from work. If you too were to ride a bike through the San Fernando Valley it may look a little something ... like ... this.

I finally have a picture of the Orange Line, which is a bus/bike/walk/meet in the middle of the night to buy small bags of icing sugar-way that runs from Hollywood to somewhere that's not Hollywood. I saw someone hanging around the busway a few days ago who walked back to his car after buying a little bag of icing sugar from another baker in a black Monte-Carlo. And it was 11:30 at night. It's wierd because there was a big grocery store around the corner with really big bags of icing sugar. I guess we've all been there, you're making a cake late at night, you take it out of the oven, then oops, no ici....you get my point.

I believe the Orange Line is very similar to what they've been proposing in Winnipeg since...June 21, 1919. Bloody Saturday. It seems to work pretty well, and it's only $1.25. I could definitely see one of these buses cruising south beside Pembina Highway, although I think that accordian section thing in the middle seems like it would snap in the cold. Unless you never turn. Maybe they could just make a new one for every run, then when it gets to the final stop at the Log Cabin McDonalds, everyone gets out and the bus driver pushes it into a big hole. Problem solved.

Don't be fooled, this ranch is completely surrounded by malls, houses and offices.
Rumor has it that the whole Valley looked like this less than 60 years ago. Then again I heard a rumor in grade 2 that Vanessa Gillis had a crush on me. We know where that ended up. Gareth's left sitting in the corner alone with little knee pads sewn into his sweatpants while Taras Turko heads to the jungle gym with Vanessa wearing his wicked jean jacket. Now I've got the jean jacket Taras, I've got the jean jacket.



Close to this massive field of perfect grass that is sold off to the highest bidder is an elementary school with about 5 acres of beautiful black asphalt for the children to play on. Maybe they take field trips to see the grass: "Wow Mrs M! What is it? Can we walk on it?", "Heavens no children, this is 'grass' and it's for looking only." I don't know, fight the power I guess. I would have taken a picture of the school but just as I pulled the camera out I realized a sure way to end up cell mates with a guy named Jared is to take pictures of children at a school from across the street.


Especially if you're wearing these running slacks all the while.

I am still trying keeps this blog readable for people who don't know us and may still be interested in how two young prairie Canadians moving to Los Angeles experience and interpret the bohemoth that is America.

So here are my apologies: If I don't know you, then sorry for the personal day to day (I guess it's more week to week) garbage I dump here. And if I do know you, then sorry for trying to sound smarter and more insightful than you know me to be.

Other than Dayna coming into contact with a girl who has "Welcome to the Jungle" tattooed just above her crotch, that's pretty much it.