After a strange and unsettling week, I am now hanging in my old hometown torturing my nephew by trying to get a photo of him smiling. He smiles when the camera is not in view, but as soon as he sees the camera, he gets all sour and perplexed. He is not a photo whore like his auntie. Not yet, anyway.
Coming back to where I grew up is always weird. There have been so many changes in twenty years that it always makes me sad and sort of horrified when I visit. But today, it didn’t seem so overbuilt and ruined as it has seemed to me before. Maybe because it was so green and lush out there that I didn’t see all the houses. Or maybe it was because Colleen was with me and seeing it through her eyes, it didn’t seem so bad. We went to the new Ritz Carlton which looks like a cheap copy of the Hotel Del Coronado without any of the charm. We had a drink in the “Conservatory.” Wondering where Professor Plum was. The service was crap and the wine was sort of off, and the music was horrible. One wonders what the big deal is.
But it has been that kind of a week. Sometimes I just don’t want to leave OB. Being here with Jay, Carrie and Ryan is great though. It just took a while for me to release my arms from their pharoah-like grasp across my chest. Ryan is movie-star handsome and also, totally brilliant. I would have trudged across eight thousand Ritz lobbies to spend just a few hours with him. Tomorrow, San Francisco, where I will eat way too much food with all my old friends and will also gaze, for the first time, at my Britt Daniel bean and noodle portrait. I’m feeling all nervous and jittery just thinking about it. In a good way, not in an arms tightly crossed way. Throw open those arms, and receive your new bean and noodle, baby. It doesn’t get much better than that.
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