  A long, long day of driving. I just got home, taxiing a sleepy Bryan all the way home from a wonderful day at the Getty. We stopped for Chinese before heading home, something I should have known would result in the sleep-deprived boys naptime. That wasnt the plan. The plan was to have Moroccan food in Beverly Hills at 6pm. But when we got there, the door was locked and the open sign turned off.
Yes, we even had reservations; I called last night to make them, and everything sounded ok. Strange Ive never gone to a recommended restaurant before (or any restaurant at all) to find it mysteriously closed on a Friday night. But the day. The day was amazing. He slept all the way up there, giving me some time to drive in silence. Speeding along in the carpool lanes, I made it up there in an hour and forty-five minutes.
Pretty good for 110 miles into LA on a weekend. The sky was brilliantly clear, the temperature hovering in the 80s. Blue sky setting off the glaring white stone of the architecture. And a unexpected exhibit of Diane Arbus. What a hoot! I held back not to laugh out loud at some of her work.
Intentionally humorous, of course. Witty chick. Im far too tired to keep at this tonight. Three pain pills today. Two in the last couple of hours. Seeing freeway lanes when I shut my eyes.
Time to check out. 
