24 November 2007

Where the streets have no name

Black Friday found me in my usual Friday spot: the less-than-beloved exercise bike. I had to do something about the inordinate amount of cheese I'd consumed the day before.

Early-bird specials? Door-busters? A mall?

No.

Today, however, I ventured into the heart of darkness, and am completely out of sorts.

J. and her daughter A. very kindly invited the daughter and me on an expedition to American Girl Place off Beverly Boulevard. It's a treat the girls have been anticipating for some time.

Of course, today, the Saturday after Thanksgiving, it turned into an endurance test.

The drive from where we were to where we were going took over two hours. Add to that a minimum of 30 minutes looking for a parking spot in the structure.

The outdoor mall area was completely mobbed. We managed a slow shuffle through the throngs around and about the stores before we got to our destination.

People enjoy this?

The girls had a great time admiring all the goodies for their dolls. That was the point of the journey. J. and I had fun chatting, and that was a good time.

That's the bit I'll keep and try not to think about the rest.

Go listen to some good music: "Where the Streets Have No Name" from the album The Joshua Tree by U2.

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