It's been five months since I traded in my view of the Los Angeles city skyline in Boyle Heights for a massive protruding heap of earth aka the San Gabriel Mountains. Impressive as it is I've never been much of a nature person. Sure, I appreciate a plant here and there but I'm most at ease amongst the concrete jungle than I am on a nature trail. So, why, you may wonder did I make the move in this direction when I am such a city gal? It just worked out that way. The opportunity arose for me to take an offer to live in a quaint little hideaway in Pasadena and I couldn't refuse. It's been a long time coming and if I didn't transplant myself soon I was sure to die of root rot. I was born in Silver Lake at Queen of Angels Hospital and immediately whisked away to my home in Boyle Heights where I remained 8 months into my 50th year of life. I was more frightful of never leaving the plot of land I grew up on...worried that I'd end up buried under the pepper tree alongside the many pets who have gone before...Wilbur, the Rhode Island Red hen...the overgrown goldfish...the creepy tarantula...the cats, birds, frogs, rats, etc. It's been an interesting transition for me. I was so used to the gritty old neighborhood's vibe so to come here and have to feel out the way of the streets has been an interesting lesson in human behavior. For the most part men ride bicycles on the sidewalk, women walk while, 1) pushing a stroller; 2) strutting a push up bra, and the children are only heard off in the distance. It's a game of hide and seek with the Pasadena PD waiting to tag their unsuspecting moving violators and citing them for going 10 miles and hour while taggers and drug dealers run free. Old Town is old news. This is the City of Roses and I feel like a thorn in it's side waiting to be plucked out. (to be continued)
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