I've decided that it takes about three minutes to drive one mile in Los Angeles. Five to eight minutes if driving into a dense neighborhood. We about 3.5 miles from UCLA. On a good day, we're there in around ten minutes. On an average day, twenty minutes. On bleepity blankin' bleep bleep days, 30 minutes. And you never know what kind of day it's going to be.
Today it took 75 minutes to drive 26 miles to Point Dume. And it took 90 minutes to drive 26 miles from Point Dume back to our house. Tonight was back to school night at Cora's school, and we were not just a little bit late because of the unexpected drive time home.
This is coming from one who loves to drive. It's fun to me. But there have been moments [like this afternoon] where I'm seriously trying to figure out how to sell both cars so I don't have to be in them anymore. I will get the hang of this, though right now I mostly just wonder where all of the urban planners were when LA got to sprawlin'. Oh Public Transportation, how I love thee.
Tomorrow I'm road tripping to Arizona for the weekend to attend Dan's service. I wasn't sure I was going to make it because I'd planned a trip to Utah to see my cousins Kiersty and Brittany and to attend the Salt Lake City Temple (I've never been). I spent yesterday morning rearranging flights, and was glad everything worked out. I've been looking forward to the Utah trip since before I planned it. ;) This weekend, however, needed to be spent with some other Dear Ones.
Living here has made me long for wide open space, which I think is why I like visiting the beach so much [among many other reasons]. It doesn't get any more wide open than an expansive body of water. Part of me wants wherever we land after Los Angeles to have more than a 7,000 square foot lot waiting (7,000 sf is the size of the standard lot in Mesta Park - our old neighborhood in OKC - where Dot still resides). Another part of me says, "BrieAnn, you have never lived in a small town. Not even a smallish town. You're inspired by public spaces, old architecture, the people next to you on trains and busses (when you're not scared of them)." And it also says, "I know you're thinking "farm," but farms have snakes and mice and all other sorts of critters that you don't like dealing with."
And then I say, "I know, I know. But part of me wants the growing years of my life to turn me into something like Wendell Berry and Mary Oliver and Ouiser Boudreaux all wrapped up into one. And I want to drive a big black Cadillac convertible."
And then the other part of me pauses and stares blankly at me, blinking every once in a while…
It's a good thing all of me knows my secret desire to be a bee keeping farmer someday. Even if that dream has been modified to urban bee keeping and raised bed gardens depending on where I am. Life is such a funny adventure. Here's to all of me embracing [or at least trying to make the best] of all that comes my way.
And in looking for a picture of Wendell Berry, I came across this gem. Truth.