Safe and sound in West…

Safe and sound in West Hollywood at Lisette's, though a little sick, I think. I'm not sure if it's that or the heat or travelling yesterday, but I've felt very groggy all day today. Spent a few hours trying to revise a very early story of mine with the hopes that I could send it to an anthology in need, but I think I'd do better just writing a new one -- I have two ideas for stories that might work, so it's just a matter of getting up the energy. Spent the rest of the day mostly reading; finished The Dragon Waiting, by John M. Ford -- a pretty decent alternate history. Not quite what I was in the mood for, but it was good to finish something that I had hanging. Think I'm going to go make more tea in the hopes of doing something productive this evening.

Should note that I think I left my cell phone charger at Jed's, so if you need to reach me in the next week or so, please e-mail rather than phone. Lisette has a cable modem. :-)

10:26. Hollywood story #1: We went to the grocery store this morning. As we came out, a little old man stopped us, and asked if we could give him a ride home -- he only lived three blocks away. He was very old. Being nice, polite young girls, we said we'd be delighted. We loaded him and his groceries up in the car. As we drove him, he asked what we did. Lisette told him that she acted and produced. He then proceeded to tell us a) that he was 94!, and b) that he had this great idea for this organization to help gangs, and he just needed some help with it. I think he wanted money, but he also asked her if she had a typewriter and whether she'd be able to type up his proposal for him. It was a long three blocks -- but amusing too.

Hollywood story #2: Around 8ish, we went out for sushi. We were munching edamame when Lisette said, of the woman at the table across from us, "I think I've seen her in something." I looked, though I didn't expect to recognize the woman since I am so culturally deficient -- I never remember actors' names. It was Seven of Nine!!! Reading a book and finishing her dinner very quietly and looking just as good without all the make-up and the skintight jumpsuit and I managed to keep my cool, but boy -- I was sure tempted to walk over to her and say -- "You're Seven of Nine!" Not remembering her real name helped to curb that impulse. As did the fact that she was reading. I left her in peace, and maintained my semblance of cool. But gosh!

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