A Good Weekend (wherein I discover that Dodger Dogs are not all that fancy after all)




I don’t know what the big deal is about Dodger Dogs.  I mean, they taste like boiled hot dogs – like every other ball park I’ve been to.  The only difference is that they’re longer than the other ones.  Which was not all that exciting as I like a bit of bread with each bite of the dog.  And you don’t get that with the Dodger Dog without making an effort.  

Also, Dodger fans are intense.  I’ve only been to three MLB games – the A’s and the Giants – and the fans at Dodger stadium were much more into the game than at any other game I’ve been to.  The seats were packed and the cheering was loud.  I mean, really really loud.  They wanted their team to win like no other fans I’ve witnessed.

I wonder how they rank with Yankees and Red Sox fans.

So, yes, my parents were here this weekend and we did manage to fool them into thinking that our apartment is always so neat and tidy.  And the great thing about the thorough cleaning?  Once it’s done you really want to make it last.  Now I find myself putting my shoes away instead of leaving them by the door, making the bed (well, not every morning).  So maybe we were tricking ourselves a little bit too and it’s working.  

Anyway….back to the parents.  They flew in Saturday morning and left Sunday evening (like I said, less than 36 hours), but we did manage to have a good time.  Because here’s the thing about my parents (and family in general): they are a lot of fun.  I think it’s taken me a while to realize how much fun their wackiness is and also to embrace that same wackiness in myself.  In junior high and high school I spent so much time being embarrassed for them because, well, that’s what teenagers do.  They are embarrassed for their parents.  (Please note that I was embarrassed for them, not by them.  Big difference.)  

And then one day I woke up and guess what?  I was doing ridiculous dances in the middle of crowded places.  And I was loving it.  Turns out all those years of embarrassment were for nothing.  They were just having fun.  So maybe they’re the reason that I still insist on taking pictures like this:


While standing in the longest line ever for a so-so hot dog.

While standing in the longest line ever for a so-so hot dog.



Now that they’re free of the children and still young, they get to do pretty much anything they want to do.  A 36-hour trip to Orange County?  Don’t mind if we do.  A motorcycle ride to Utah to have breakfast with the family?  That sounds brilliant.  They do it all.  Just the other night they went to Jackpot for a concert.  Just a night.  And just for a concert.  

I suppose there’s an argument to be made for having kids early and getting it out of the way.  I guess I’ll have to settle for all that travel in my younger years.  (Speaking of travel, Belize in 10 days!).

On Saturday afternoon we walked through Olivera Street in Los Angeles and my mom and I lamented the fact that her dad, who was born in Mexico, didn’t pass on the language to his children so that they could pass it on to their children.  My dad has a fancy new camera that takes gorgeous pictures and I drooled over it all weekend.  If only I were better with a camera (I can never seem to find those fancy shots that he does) I would maybe think about spending money on this beauty:


The Camera

The Camera




The camera, people, not my dad.

Also, check out this shot:

The dog is wearing sunglasses and a sombrero!  Oh how we laughed when we saw this man wheel by in his wheelchair.  And he was so perfectly poised on his owner’s shoulder.  Just hanging out back there and enjoying the sights.  

All in all, a good weekend.

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Filed under Family, Travel

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