Lorange Blog

30 minutes of randomness A friend had a birthday party this week so I stopped by, gave him a hug, said happy birthday, shook hands with others, and then took these pictures on the way out. Seven tries until I timed it right with the blinking lights. The only noteworthy moment (at minute 17) was when someone I don't know, but have seen at parties over the years turned to me and said, "I know that scarf" [referring to the scarf I've been wearing only lately] and then went back to the conversation they were listening to beforehand.

It's true. On Sunday February 21st, 2010 I was a victim of a most horrendous crime while on a quick two hour visit to Disney's California Adventures theme park with my kids. My dear children, untouched by crime children had just entered the queue for Grizzly Rapids so like any good dad who doesn't think walking around on a cold, possibly raining day soaked from this water ride, I stood at the look-out point near what is the San Francisco bathrooms area to wave them off. I smiled towards their raft with the thought that my kids were going to get soaked in their already sick state (did I mentioned they were a tad sick?) on the last ride before dropping them off the Ex's house.* So this good Dad notices the churro cart nearby and decides that a warm churro would be a perfect snack for some damp kids and myself. I don't know why these fried dough sticks covered in cinnamon-sugar powder are so hella good, but there's always a line to buy them and I'm always l

I love nothing more than watching you roll across the carpet to answer your phone. totally unnecessary. totally adorable.

I had a purpose to the extent that I wanted to do one thing only. I drove for hours, heading Northwest on the 101. Woodland Hills, Camarillo, maybe Santa Barbara? I haven't been out this direction since I was a child and my dad insisted we took the coastal drive at least once on our many trips to Los Angeles. We drove down every summer and I remember doing this route only a couple times - once as we came up to a freeway junction and my dad asked us "So should we go left or straight up the 5?" We yelled left and headed up the 101 based on three kids thinking nothing of adding a few hours to our already long drive. My secondary destination this day, my back up, is only a memory. I have only a vague idea where or what it is but I'll try to describe it here: A large canyon, a small narrow road, a steep drop down the edge of these cliffs. Somewhere on the way down (or maybe at the top) was a Bob's Big Boy or some random restaurant off to the right side before the

(It was late November when I had a chance to write a guest post for Krista's blog; a post about what inspires us. There were a few drafts that came and went but it wasn't until mid December that I knew exactly what I wanted to say. What you see here is a slightly modified version that was kindly posted at Krista's blog in January. Today is a good day to share it here.) I spent the last rainy Saturday at the LA Zoo with my soon to be 8 year old son. He picked out a red shirt to match mine while I insisted on a scarf, wrapping it around his neck just like the way mine twisted. The scarves were not to create LA fashion statements as often the case here but for the real need of keeping our LA not use this cold weather necks warm. Our hands rested in pockets while we talked to each other, picking up identical black umbrellas set by the door on our way out. The place was empty with the rain staying somewhere between being brushed by cotton balls or brushed by wet cat fur

I woke up late this morning: 5:45 AM. Gathered my laundry bag I had set aside the night before to beat an imagined weekend rush at the washing machines though the complex has six machines and it was Sunday morning. 6:15. As the clothes washed, then dried, I placed myself in the shower as one does in the morning hours. Eventually I went downstairs to retrieve my clothes, clean the lint out of the catch and exchanged a clean shirt with a warm one. 8:35 I'm out the door. Ate my breakfast at the outside tables of Millie's with a book, a glass of water, a glass of orange juice and an order of the Devils' Mess. The book of essays got very funny and I noticed the little huff of approval from my throat. A worthy "ha" to the amazing mixture of eggs, cheese, tomatoes, onions, sour cream and guacamole that sat on the plate in front of me. The sun reached my legs under the table as I watched the cars go by, growing in numbers as more customers arrived. I swallowed this

I ran three miles this evening, only walked for a few minutes, my heart pounding in a good way. The more I try the easier it is to maintain this pace. I like this pace. At Catalina and Franklin I paused long enough for a raccoon to pass from the street then up a driveway, but instead of rushing into the darkness he stopped and looked at me. "Hi Mr Raccoon," I said. "Well hello Robert Dean." This truly didn't seem odd at the time. He stood up on his hind legs eyeballing me as I stood there breathing hard. A smile appeared before he continued, "Don't stop running. Never stop." "I won't Mr Raccoon. Not this time. Not this time." Home is a moving target but my heart knows its place.