It's the cream that rises to the top. Everything else is just plain milk.

I went to the UCLA/LA Times Festival of Books. I saw Julie Andrews and William Gibson and got a sunburn on one of my arms. No matter how much coffee I drank, I never stopped feeling three quarters of the way to sleeping.



My parents are selling our old house. I looked at the pictures online, and it made me sad to see it all up-for-grabs and empty. It sure does look pretty in the pictures.



I have worked more this week than ever. I have played more this week than is excusable given the amount of work I had to do. I have had a pain in my eyes nearly constantly. And a glittery feeling when the rewards rolled in. And I'm not talking about money.



I drove to Huntington Beach to have dinner. I took pictures out on the pier of signs that may look less silly to me when I see them developed. I had that salt air smell in my hair, and my hands got cold.



I bought a super sexy top on Melrose, and I paid way too much for it. When I realized how much it was at the register, I was too embarrassed to back out. But when I tried it on at home, I loved it and was glad I didn't sink that opportune ship.