The Guest List, Page 2

It's never promising when your guests end up like this after just one day of visiting.

The truth is, Ruble did it to herself. Her first day in El Ley she headed straight to the beach while I headed straight for the cube. My trip took four blocks, hers took about four miles. She came home with a rosy glow and a good excuse to prop her feet up. Ruble started out her vacation going roughly 300 miles per hour, which, to her credit, is one-third the pace she normally exists at, and has continued it since, despite my complaining about tiredness and aches. We both fall asleep on the couch at night until Mack makes us realize what we've done and herds us 28-year-old retirees-in-the making off to bed. At 11 o'clock. At night!

Friday night we tried to go out and find our youthful spirits, but the three hour time difference and the impending Daylight Savings Time (okay, I'm looking for something to blame) wiped us out minutes after we ordered a drink and paid a $10 cover. Mack finagled our cover money back, and Ruble and I sneaked a taxi to Blockbuster to rent a movie (read: put something on tv that we could fall asleep to). We entered our sweet dreams that night through House of 1000 Corpses, a flick that made me love clowns again and that satisfied Ruble's every movie desire. We both lasted about 14 minutes.

Saturday we were much more vibrant, while the sun was up that is. We perked up at 9:30 and headed off to the Getty Museum. That place is freaking amazing. We only scoped two of four pavilions that contained art since the grounds were so gorgeous we had to cover every square inch of them. I don't know much about architecture, but I know I like fountains and mazes and windows and panoramic views and cacti. The Getty has it all. It also has Van Gogh, Pissarro, Cezanne, Degas, Millet and other names that sound familiar but only look familiar in the context of their respective notecard collections. My favorite part of the Getty were these rebar vases/vine trainer things that made the most beautiful canopies.







I've been wanting to go to the Getty for a while, and I can't think of anyone who would have been more perfect to share that experience with than Ruble. Even as museum guards were scolding us for accidentally using a flash and giving us insider tips on where the best lookout points were, Ruble was offering up her beaming smile and making friends in her effortless way. I know she radiates friendly, I just haven't experienced how people are drawn to it in a while. Like moths to a flame I tell you.

In an effort to justify our 11 p.m. crash time on Saturday (we did make it through The Last King of Scotland at an actual movie theater before collapsing), we decided we'd head to the hills for hiking on Sunday. We got up early, bought some picnic goodies, and headed off to Temescal Canyon. We did what all responsible hikers should do -- wander around trails marked as closed with a half a bottle of water each. Why the trails were "closed" is beyond me, unless the closing notices were actually warnings about how hiking the trail would give you unexplainable ass pain for days to come. We hiked about two miles before our trail merged with a Will Rogers State Historic Park trail and we ended up far from home. At least we got to see some beautiful countryside and enchanting valleys along the way.


We hiked about two more miles up Sunset along a sidewalk that was probably more dangerous than the aformentioned closed trails back to the entrance of Temescal Canyon and hopped in the truck to meet Mack and his family at Topanga Canyon for a picnic. I was starving, but that I devoured two bags of potato chips during the drive will remain mine and Ruble's little secret. We did another little hike at Topanga, which brought our walking total for Sunday to about 300 miles.


Our after dinner stroll to find deer found Shahin and her mini-me Laila hiking with purses and heels through sandy trails adorned with horse poop. They called it Beverly Hills Hiking, and it was cute. Laila has learned Betsy's "push my butt" trick, so I spent most of my time hunched over trying to help her get up the incline by shoving her barely there behind.


Maintaining Ruble's 300 mph pace hasn't been easy. Tonight we hit up Saw III (sucks) after giving into the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Hypnotism Factory and tomorrow we've got, brace yourselves, Halloween Horror Night at Universal Studios. I'm sure by Thursday, when Ruble's had her fill of R&R and heads home, I'll need a vacation.