On Giving: Natural Masks for Face & Hair

In the fall months, you may start to feel a little sluggish, your hair and face a little lackluster, due to reduced sunlight (and therefore Vitamin D), as well as dietary changes. Fear not! These two simple masks you can make at home will restore shine and smoothness to hair, as well as calm hormonal breakouts and acne with skin. Guys and gals alike, enjoy. :)

FACE MASK (gets rid of blackheads, tones pores, soothes breakouts)

1. Mix 1 tbsp real orange juice with 1 tbsp baking soda
   
2. Spread a thin layer on face. (There should be enough for two applications, or one if you put it on your neck and décolletage, too, which I do.)
3. Leave on for 20 minutes
4. Dampen finger tips and scrub mask in circular motions for extra exfoliation
5. Rinse

The mask will tingle and itch a little so it’s good too have a distraction—paint your nails, watch TV, but whatever you do, don’t talk. As the paste dries, any facial movements will cause it to flake off. Your skin will be pink afterwards (see photo), like as you just peeled off a few layers. When I am done I use a really gentle toner and then slather on some lotion.

Tip: If you don’t have the time for a full mask, mix a little bit of baking soda into your cleanser for a light exfoliating treatment.

***

HAIR MASK

Simply mix one tablespoon of honey with a sizeable amount of olive oil, rub into hair, and leave on for at least 20 minutes (optimal is overnight, just wrap your hair in a plastic grocery store bag).

On Gratitude: Kaleb

It is late in the day, a day filled with cleaning, applying for jobs at fitness studios, buying Christmas stockings, teaching a cardio class, bringing friends to the airport for a wedding, meeting another friend to borrow a training manual for a personal training certification, meeting my roommate from college for tea and talking, a late-night dinner, and more job submissions. It has been a very full day, and I am getting up in a few short hours to do some Pilates in my living room. But I am taking some time to write about gratitude. Today - and for the past five months (and then some) of my life - I am specifically grateful for Kaleb.

It is difficult to explain how Kaleb and I met. Usually, when someone asks, Kaleb sort of half-grins, looks in my general direction, and says, "Yeah, I'll let Chelsea explain that one." Kaleb and I met through my ex, who was good friends with Kaleb last fall. Although Kaleb lives far away, his presence was requested for a date lunch one day, as the ex's designated girlfriend-approver. My ex was still in the shower when Kaleb arrived at the apartment, and when I opened the door - a girl he had never seen before - he stopped, looked around dumbstruck, and waited for me to tell him that yes, he was, in fact, at the correct apartment. Our trio headed to grab hot dogs in the valley, Kaleb being the quieter type, but making a highly inappropriate joke about situps - which shall remain a secret - that nearly made me pee my pants in the backseat of the car. At lunch, I offered to get him a refill on his soda, and he looked at me, and responded, as though I was insane. Despite our wacky first meeting, we connected as friends, and found out we had a lot in common. Over the coming months, we talked more and more online - since Kaleb is about an hour and a half outside of Los Angeles - and helped each other deal with problems that came up, including the finality of two very sour relationships ending. Kaleb had been out of a relationship for several years, I had found out some disturbing things about my ex by this point, and we finally got to hang out in person. Nearly kicking and screaming (not really, but it took a lot of invites to finally get the guy to hang out with me), Kaleb came down for a little birthday party I threw him in May, where I got to meet some of his friends. We had only seen each other twice before in person, but we had spent so much time talking online that it was like seeing an old friend. A few weeks later, Kaleb graciously came down to help us move into our house, and by June - after many failed hints and me finally breaking down and sending a box of brownies which read, in M&Ms, "I Like You" (which Kaleb dreadfully opened at work, to the chagrin of his fellow employees) - we were dating. The rest is history. Or, I should say, our history is being written day by day. But I know this much: I have found the man of my dreams, and he was, and continues to be, worth every moment of heartbreak and sorrow it took to get to him.

I don't exactly know how to go about describing Kaleb, because, when that question is posed to me, the question of, "well what is he like?", my voice grows quiet and my smile takes over, just glowing as I think about where to begin. Kaleb is a rare gem, a perfect example of chivalry in a society where that is an antiquated - yet much needed - trait. He opens every door, including the car door. He always offers to drive, and rolls his eyes when I stubbornly say it's my turn. He holds my hand in public. He has no shame about hugging and kissing in the middle of Trader Joe's, so in love and perfect that the guy re-stocking the wine selection jokingly says, "get a room," at which Kaleb and I smile. He adores his great grandmother to the point that we make her homemade birthday cards and talk about going over to just have tea and talk, which he says she would love. He acts like a big brother to his friends, and gives advice on whatever is asked, without being overbearing. He is steady and quiet, yet loyal as can be, and his sense of humor never fails to make me laugh, even when the world seems like too much. He is thoughtful to the point of making me tissue paper flowers, which I can keep forever, because he knows I love flowers and can't always be there to buy them for me at Whole Foods, when he sees my eyes light up at the sight of lilies and downright insists on buying them. He is happy with what he has, whether that be incredible food at a surprise birthday dinner for me, or our meal of leftovers at home by a fire, talking until four in the morning, because it's cheaper - and quite frankly, cozier - than a date out. He is kind beyond reason, forgoing sleep and work to hold me or to talk to me if I am overwhelmed or sad, always putting himself last and everyone else in his life first. He is devoted, cleaning up all of the dishes, at his own house and at mine, because he knows how hard his dad works, and how I'm usually the one who does it here. He works harder than many people my parents' age, taking two jobs on while going to college, and all the while keeping it to himself. He strengthens my faith in God, explaining how our relationship is what has made him believe in soulmates, and describing his theory that, "we're going to be okay; God brought us together, to each other, and he figures that we can do the rest, that we can take care of each other now." He keeps me childish and playful, which I am so lucky for, because he will still let me tickle him to death, and will still be just as excited to make crayon artwork with me, when we are ninety. He is as stubborn as I am - a very, very difficult thing to be - but because of it, brings balance to my opinions. He is quietly charming, turning to me at our first dinner with my father, which happens to be at a nice seafood restaurant, and whispering, "Babe, why did the waitress put that knife in front of me?", as I smile and respond that it's not for the table's bread, but for the steak he has ordered. He is handsome as the day is long, with loving eyes that mirror my own deep hope for our future, and a smile that makes me melt, no matter how frustrated or pensive I may be. He is patient, realizing that an education, a puppy, and a relationship all take time and care to flourish. He is gentle, offering a massage or a soothing word or kiss at the end of a long day. He is loving, always wanting to cuddle as we fall asleep at night, talking about our dreams for the future and about how blessed we truly are. He is my lucky star, my compass, my "other half", as we like to say.

I sometimes joke about where he was hiding for the first twenty-three years of my life, but I know one thing; that even if, after ten years, I have decided that acting in Los Angeles is not for me, I will be forever grateful to it for leading me to Kaleb.

I am so grateful for this. I will wait as long as it takes.

On Giving: A Healthy Recipe for a Pumpkin Spice Latte

It is officially fall - heck, it's almost Thanksgiving - and who doesn't love pumpkin this time of year?? Here's a delicious recipe that you can make at home (sugar and dairy-free!)

*2 Tbsp Pumpkin
*1/4tsp Pumpkin Pie Spice
*1c Milk of Choice (I prefer unsweetened almond or coconut)
*1tsp Vanilla Extract
*Truvia or Honey to taste

Whisk the above ingredients together, then add in:

*3-4 Tbsp Strong Coffee

..and whisk again. Voila! For an added festive touch, add some whipped cream on top.

Gratitude & Giving

Where do I begin?

It has been a long, long time since I have sat down to write. I miss writing dearly. In the moments when inescapable reality sits on my shoulders and I can't stand up, I generally resort to one of the following: ninety minutes of intense, sweat-covered yoga, thoroughly cleaning or crafting to classical music, cooking and baking for loved ones, or writing. There is something therapeutic and calming about these activities. Perhaps it is the fact that I am able to focus on a steady task with a goal, the outcome of which I have total control over. Perhaps it is the freedom that comes with creative whimsy, which exists and flourishes, regardless of perceived financial limitation or excess. I don't know. Perhaps it is the opportunity to invest worried and frenetic energy into a healing gift of nourishment for someone I deeply care about. With writing, it is a chance to lasso the tornado of the mind, the barrage of noise and ricochets of emotion, and to sit calmly in the eye of the storm. And I adore it. It is like seeing an old, old friend for the first time in a long time and simply saying, "ah, there you are." A smile of instant relief and comfort.

It has been over a year since I began writing about my life in Los Angeles, and this time around, things still seem as precarious as ever. But one thing has changed, and that is that I have settled somewhat into my own skin. The need to be perfect has eased over these past months, and I have begun to accept - and even to embrace - the imperfections, the flaws in my body and in my character. It is so nice, so soothing, to look at this industry, and at this world, and to say, "Here I am, this is me; take it, or leave it." The funny thing is that more often than not, you find that people take the imperfect, because it is true, because it is trustworthy.

Let's see where my life is at right now..

I spent the last two months being considered for the part of the Pink Power Ranger, on a show I grew up watching (and even went to the Houston convention for, with my dad and my sister, after she won tickets from a random gas station raffle). I made it through three rounds of auditions, including the producer's session. I wore pink and black, including a pink ranger tee shirt, which I stumbled upon at Hot Topic one day. I kicked and practiced routines in my living room, for my roommates and my boyfriend, who gave me tips and feedback and wished me luck every time I drove to Culver City for the next round. Because this will be the 20th anniversary of the show, and because it is the number one show on Nickelodeon, the producers have pushed back casting until March or April of 2012. It took me two months of waiting and hoping and stressing to find this out. And the lesson was this: you have to live life for the day, for the moment. There are zero guarantees, and it's better that way; you take less for granted.

I spent eight weeks training in spinning and pilates, for an hour or more each day, to find out that the studio was willing to pay hardly anything for instructors. So I am getting certified as a spinning instructor this Saturday to take matters into my own hands. What did I get out of the process? Well, beyond some nicely-toned legs, I learned that you always ask up front, because it's not personal, it's business. I also realized that I don't need a gym or a studio to stay fit. I recorded my own pilates workout, and now myself and one of my best friends do it together at my house, two mornings a week, from 5-6am. I learned that there are multiple doors.

I spent hours each day scouring Craigslist for odd jobs here and there, just to make a little cash to help pay the bills. This led me to an interview with an agency for a permanent fit model position (I did subbing for this last fall and loved it), and I am going to meet with them this week to sign my contract, which will open a whole set of new opportunities. I learned that even in Hollywood, you get out what you put in. For a long time this summer, I was frustrated, because some people come to Los Angeles and never succeed as an actor. Jenna Fisher, who plays Pam on "The Office", talks about how, at some point, you have to realize that you love acting enough to do it without the crazy paycheck, and that is success. The amount of energy you invest in yourself is what you get in return.

With all of these things, I have tried to see the positive. Kaleb has been a help beyond words, and now I have adorable Iggy, as well as a Christmas tree in my living room. Our house is cold, because we can't afford to heat it. But with the combination of the above loveliness, I am able to stay cheerful. This may be the first Christmas that I spend away from my family, yet I have one of the best families around, with dedicated and selfless parents, and incredible, yet silly, siblings, who are my two closest friends in the entire world. So from now until Christmas - 48 days - I am focusing what could become sour energy on something I am grateful for, and considering how good I really have it. I have a feeling that, at 80 years of age, the things I am doing now and the people I am doing them with will stand out in my memory, while the finances and daily struggles will have vanished. I hope I have laugh lines then. That is the thankfulness part. Today, I am thankful for Iggy being healthy again, after a full recovery from Parvo. Atta boy.

The giving part.. hm. I do not have very much to give. But one thing I learned from watching the claymation version of "The Little Drummer Boy", which my mom recorded from tv onto a VHS tape when we were kids, is that a little is a lot to someone. So I will give by posting as often as I can, in the hopes that someone out there actually enjoys reading these little tidbits and thoughts. I will post a healthy recipe or a workout daily, so that I can give my loved ones, friends and family who could use it, the gift of health this holiday season.

"To share a simple kindness could set your heart aflame,
and you'll get more than you'll ever give away."

Boy, if that isn't the truth.

Making a House a Home

As I found myself nearing the end of my year-long lease agreement for the West Hollywood apartment, I knew one thing for certain: that I had to get out of dogde from crazyville. While the charming bungalow had earned a warm place in my heart and in my memory, my landlord and some neighbors had simply become too much to handle. So, in an attempt to maintain some level of sanity on my continuing quest, I had started scoping out apartment complexes and homes in the area. I knew that I wanted (ideally) a house, with a washer/dryer, with a dishwasher (and a kitchen large enough for more than one person to stand in, with a full-sized fridge, after six months of Matt and I playing what became affectionately known as "Refrigerator Tetris"), with a yard, with a patio, with fruit trees, and with permit-free parking. And guess what?! After frantically shifting roommate scenarios, rearranging touring schedules to accommodate an actress, a chemist, and a writer, and desperately trying to get finances in order - EVEN despite Wells Fargo taking out money from the wrong account and sending a very stressed young lady into overdraft mistakenly - I got my house. In a quiet neighborhood of North Hollywood, down a street covered by a canopy of trees, I managed to land a true gem of a dwelling with dear friends. So, on May 15th, and with much assistance from Clint, Cari, Emmett, and Kaleb (who you'll hear more about soon) - Pasha, Matt, and I moved into what is quickly becoming a well-loved hostel and haven in our fair city.

Saturday morning, Kaleb and I woke up, at some ungodly hour, to pick up our UHaul rental truck, which I had rented for six hours. Surprisingly, moving all of my apartment and Pasha's few furniture items to our house went quickly, and we had the truck turned in (with new gas and with lunches eaten!) by 2pm. Although there were boxes and other items strewn about the house, we had a housewarming party on Sunday evening. Richard grilled fajitas, Kaleb and I hung glittering string-lights on the patio, beer (and water) pong was played, hot peppers were examined and tasted (after visiting Cari's grandma and uncle in San Pedro the evening before), impromptu dance parties were had, musical serenades rung out from couch-tops in the wee hours of the morning, and many smiles and laughs were had. It was a lovely moving process, and - with a little luck - one which moved me into this darling house for at least the next two years. After constantly moving over the course of my life, it is settling to really settle into a place long enough to feel home. I love driving home at the end of the day to our house; nomatter what madness has transpired in the work world, or how much traffic has congested the 405, or how little money is flowing into the bank, I get to come home to roommates and a home which lighten my spirit. It is delightful.

(Some of the pictures are from our Memorial Day party, but you get an idea of the general merriment at 6101!)

My First Feature Film: "The Incident"

In late March, I booked the lead role in a feature-length horror film, tentatively titled "The Incident". I was absolutely stunned when everything fell into place, after an audition and a callback that both felt truly fun, and in a situation where I felt like I was letting Chelsea be present. By this, I mean that I didn't hide my curly hair (I wore it curly during the filming as a result), or the fact that I am a bit of a tomboy, and it actually served me well. Coming to Los Angeles, I had envisioned what Hollywood was looking for... a rail-thin, tall, striking blond with long, straight hair and feminine whiles. Don't get me wrong: I love to get dolled up and I keep active and in shape. But what I had imagined was not myself. I am a goofy, slightly rough-around-the-edges, spunky girl. Landing the role of Samantha taught me this: be true to yourself and to your own qualities. Hollywood may have a million and one blond girls, but they don't have this one (yet!).

"The Incident" focuses on a small group of college students who trek out to an abandoned insane asylum one weekend to film a documentary-style project, focused on proving - or disproving, as is the case for Samantha - the existence of the paranormal. The script was something I hadn't seen before - perhaps due to the daily rewrites, which made the process that much more exciting. I cannot say enough positive things about the cast and crew that worked on our very low-budget film; everyone was friendly, courteous, and focused. Even with a daily two-hour commute to our shooting location in Whittier, I could not complain. After nearly a year in Los Angeles of waiting tables, sitting in traffic, submitting for auditions, paying for new headshots.. after all of the run-around, here I was, absolutely exhausted, doing stunts or shooting pieces in the freezing dark at 3am, sipping coffee during fast makeup and hair touch-ups or glances at the newest version of the script, finally acting again. Even writing this, I am smiling and reminded of just why I packed up and trekked out to Cali over a year ago now. It is important to keep coming back to your intention, and to what keeps you moving forward. I restate this, in some form or fashion, on a daily basis, and it keeps me positive.

After a nine-day shoot, we had wrapped 90% of the film, and the remaining scene was completed a few weeks later. I won't put out any spoilers, but keep an eye out for the film on Netflix, Movies on Demand, and maybe even - shh! - the SciFi Channel within the next six months to a year. It will be strange (and always a trial) to watch myself on film, but I am so very proud of the work we all put into making something so spectacular.

The Extent of the Roadtrip

For those of you left wondering, "Did the fantastic friends ever survive the roadtrip?! What happened next??", I can assure you that, yes, we did, in fact, make it back to our respective homes. I shall give you a quick run-down via some additional photos of our week's adventure (which, in some ways, is richer and more visceral than trying to explain it all through words). We drove up the PCH, stayed in a cottage in Cambria for a night, continued on to Oakland and stayed with our lovely Samarth Vader (aka, BAMF) for two nights near Berkeley, then came back to Los Angeles, where we made a homemade pizza - complete with wine and accompanying flour fight - and where I was presented with Eliza Doolittle, the Build-a-Bear lovechild of our epic friendcation. It was a week of laughing so hard your belly hurts, and of wanting to stay twenty-three for a lifetime, surrounded by people who so lovingly illuminate the absurd and the hysterical on an hourly basis.

A Whole Lot of Spring

Even amidst the 1940s jazz music streaming through my bungalow, over the kiss of soft lighting, lavender tea, and blooming orchids, I am still breathless at how much I have done over the last couple of months, and at how much remains to be completed. Thankfully, with Easter Day comes a few sunny hours of reflection, regardless of your religious bent or spiritual inclinations, on the meaning of rebirth and renewal. So I am soaking up some fresh life as I admire and express gratitude for new beginnings and for the gift of life. As Alice Ripley reminds me with the "Next to Normal" soundtrack, "you find out you don’t have to be happy at all to be happy you’re alive.”

The last few months have been a whirlwind, and I am learning more and more as I experience life in Los Angeles, on my own, that your life plays out in the way that eventually makes sense, that connects you with the people and with the experiences you are meant to encounter at the appropriate times, but that trying to guess about it, or to make some sort of sense of it all, is a silly little endeavor. Life has a way of sailing you down little waterways and back alleys you had no idea even existed. Trying to remain graceful amidst it all is a constant, lifelong work which I shall forever be honing. Yet the rough corners and gasp-inducing sights are exciting, and make the balancing act all worthwhile at days' end.

The early spring brought several acting opportunities my direction, including the previously mentioned commercial for "The Morning After" on Hulu, as well as the "Yeah Do It!" Nike spec shoot with Nina and Kristopher (which involved the car hit and Parkour running in Griffith park), and a rollerblading shoot for "Viaplay", the Scandinavian version of Hulu (lots of Hulu in my life in 2011, it would seem). Each was fun and rewarding in its own way, and all good networking opportunities. It is still slightly bizarre to have old friends from long ago get in touch to say, "Hey, I think I just saw you on Hulu!". Considering it was such a minor roll, I am touched that people have taken the time to send well-wishes.















































March continued to bring fun and exciting things. My good friend Michael and I headed out to the Santa Monica pier one early morning at 7am to do a fun summery photo shoot, for which he had re-acquired a super spiffy camera for (we had to keep sand from touching it so he could return it afterward; ah, the life of poor and struggling recent graduates!). Although it was a crisp morning, and rain had been predicted, we actually had quite a successful shoot, which incorporated bright balloons and umbrellas. The random early-morning jogger got a smile out of seeing our whimsical excursion, and we laughed every time the frigid waves snuck up on me, trying to maintain composure for the camera. Later that morning, I auditioned for and booked a modeling gig for a jeans' line. Ironically, the photographer who auditioned me, a gruff hippie in his 50s, thought I might not have a big enough badonkadonk, seeing as the jeans' line was targeting latina and black women, and the owner had rejected the last cute Latina girl. Yet a few days later, I got a call and had booked the job. Only in Los Angeles does one half of your industry tell you to starve yourself skinny, and the other side use you as a jeans' model due to your obnoxiously large assets.











































Having taught Mario yoga for around six months, he asked me if I would like to teach himself and ten other CEOs at a small business retreat he leads each year in Napa. I of course jumped at this opportunity, which turned out to be my first [fully-paid!] business trip, and for teaching Power Yoga. I purchased ten yoga mats in Los Angeles the week before, loaded them into a large suitcase, and flew out to Oakland, California (close to San Francisco) late on a Thursday. From there, I picked up a rental car and drove out to the Napa area. I arrived after midnight and was absolutely starving, after every gas station in a twenty-mile radius had seemed to be closed at that hour. I checked in and went to my room, which was a delightful little private room at a very rustic, expensive bed and breakfast in the heart of wine country. There was a crackling fireplace, soft acoustic guitar music playing, and a bottle of regional wine waiting for my exhausted self. I snuggled into the lush comforter and ordered room service for the first time in my life: a spinach salad with walnuts and a spectacular Balsamic dressing, and a small serving of dense Chocolate mousse for dessert. While I don't necessarily mind being a struggling actor, it is pretty nice to kick back and indulge when the opportunity presents itself.

The next morning, I met Mario in the lobby at 7:15am, and we drove a bit down the small country road to a hillside overlooking many of the local vineyards. He said, "well, this is it, just set up the mats how you like, and I'll walk over with the guys in about twenty." The entire yoga part of the retreat had been planned as a surprise. He then added, "and look out for yourself. These guys are good guys, but they're all wealthy, all used to getting what they want. You're a cute blond yoga teacher, so don't be surprised if they act up. Just stand up to them." I wasn't sure what to expect from this, but it ended up going smoothly. After clearing a section of ground of any small sticks and rocks and cow manure - yes, cow manure - I unrolled the ten mats, lit some incense I had brought with me, and waited. At this point, the ten or so resident cattle meandered over to inspect what strange creature was setting up this bizarre little circus act on their morning meal. Now, having grown up in the country, I am not afraid of cows. However, when more than one cow gets bold enough to attempt to eat the yoga mats, and a couple definitely have long horns, even a Texas girl starts to wonder. But after a few minutes, the cows decided I was no longer interesting, and they wandered away.

The guys showed up - all very much surprised - and were actually wonderful sports about doing an hour of yoga on a sunny hillside at 8am. They didn't laugh, or joke, but simply tried something which was, for most of them (save a couple who had married yogi wives), a completely new experience. This fact was humbling and at the same time gave me some confidence as I led ten men of varying athletic abilities through up dogs and warrior threes. On the way back, one did hand me a business card and advise me to, "call if you stick around later today," but I smiled and politely explained that I was flying back right away to meet up with some friends arriving from the east coast. I drove back to the hotel, managed to quickly steal some bread pudding and fruit from the exquisite breakfast spread which had been laid out, and hopped in my car for the drive back to Oakland. I was back in Los Angeles to pick up Josh from the airport around 3pm (Veeren at the house with Matt, after having arrived a day earlier), and ready to begin our "Epic Friendcation 2011".

Oh our roadtrip. Where do I even begin to describe the incredible amount of goofiness, fun, shenanigans, and utter randomness we got up to that week?? "Epic" was not a lie when we named the trip afterward.

Friday night, after Josh joined our group in WeHo, we met up with Annie and Ian, two other CMU alumni, as Annie was visiting from Dallas for a bit. We grabbed some delicious Thai food, pre-gamed for a bit at my bungalow, and headed to a small local club named Little Temple for some dancing and laughing. We were not disappointed. One friend had a bit too much to drink and threw a glass on the floor in the bathroom - thinking it was plastic - and the next thing I knew, Matt was next to me with this total look of awe, explaining what he had just seen happen. We eventually stumbled home and tucked in in various nooks and crannies of my apartment. At one point during the week, we would get the body count up to seven, which is a ridiculous amount of persons to be sleeping in my studio apartment. But what are friends for, if not to fall over on your way to the loo at 4am?




































Saturday morning, we woke up bright and early to head to the Malibu Pier, for a Power Yoga session, followed by a day spent frolicking and picnicking on the beach. Yoga was so energizing, and I was elated to have such close friends in my class, all together, with the sea and the mountains all around us. Our picnic, which we pieced together after a quick run down the road to the [very spiffy] Malibu Ralph's, was delicious, even though a seagull managed to get away with a full-sized submarine sandwich, which should be impossible, according to the laws of physics; gravity-defying seagulls, ladies and gentlemen. We threw giant palm fronds, hunted fro special sea shells, did yoga poses, took "jumping shots", and did a lot of it all over once Samarth arrived in the mid-afternoon, having spent all morning driving down from Berkeley in San Francisco. We then drove over to Venice for a couple of hours, where we checked out the skate park, the street vendors and the strong men, and managed to lose Veeren for twenty minutes to a large crowd of hippie-dancers out on the beach.








































Saturday night, we all crammed into Samarth's car and drove to LAX to pick up Arlie, the final puzzle piece in our Epic Friendcation mash-up. While we were delayed in getting out of the door due to some crazy antics by one of my neighbors, we did eventually make it to lovely Arlie, and then to SK and Craig's house in North Hollywood for a party. I remember very little about this party, as I was exhausted and fully stretched out and took a nap when the drinking games started up. When I woke up, everyone else was either tipsy or drunk, yet the incriminating photographs all point to me as the drunkard, due to some clever beer bottle placement. See what lovely chums I have found? We once again stumbled home and crammed our bodies into random places and crashed, early in the wee hours of Sunday morning.










































Sunday morning, we dragged ourselves out of the apartment and headed over to the Hollywood Farmer's Market, where, just as I had done with my little brother last summer, I got everyone addicted to the sweet sticky rice from the little Thai vendor stall. We moseyed around and purchased some items for our wine and cheese party that evening, then met up with Pasha and Emmett at Griffith Park for an afternoon hike and picnic. During our hike down, we ended up getting split up, so myself, Samarth, Pasha and Emmett sprinted down various rabbit trails for a solid twenty minutes, trying to beat what looked like ominous rain clouds. At the same time, Arlie took a bit of a stumble while hiking down with Matt, Veeren, and Josh. So when we reached the car, panting and feeling accomplished, and phoned Josh to find this out, Samarth and I were horrified. Josh told us that he couldn't talk long because they were trying to find a ranger, and then we heard sirens in the background of the phone call, and Samarth and I both went white. We drove up to the Observatory, hoping to find Arlie being treated or taken to a hospital, and were confused to see the four of them walking toward the car. Arlie had a gnarly scrape, but no worse, and it turned out that Josh had thought we knew he was joking. After we got over our ten-minute heart attacks, we all headed back to West Hollywood to prep for that evening's Wine & Cheese Party.








































Our Sunday night wine & cheese party, although a cozy little affair, was lovely. We had jazz music, a la 1930s, candles, cheese, wine, good conversations, a suspenseful round of "Never Have I Ever", and even an impromptu game of limbo with a snowboard. Even after the guests left, we stayed awake, discussing the merits of Pinot Grigios and Merlots, and willing ourselves awake for those late-night conversations that leave you giggling and shushing each other, out of fear that the neighbors might yell.

















(More to come on the busy whirlwind tomorrow....)