Malibu Barbie Girl

I never thought I would love Los Angeles. I always thought it would be hot and uncomfortable and too sunny. But then I flew there for the first time with the man who would become my husband, and I was whisked away in a limo to a trendy hotel called The Standard Hollywood, and it was ridiculously hip, and the weather was so warm, and yet not hot, cool, and yet not cold.

I was hooked.

At one point in the vacation last week, our lovely and beautiful and of course, perfect host Jackie said that after a while, when she would go to Malibu for parties, she started to feel like she was driving home on her way TO the party, and that’s when she realized that she needed to move to Malibu.

I’m starting to get to that point.

Or at least it’s how I felt on the plane ride back. Or especially upon walking into my home and being greeted by a literal pile of shit. Cat shit. Sigh. Now there is a good chance that there would be cat poop in my Malibu home, and that I couldn’t afford the gorgeous one that Jackie has, perched in a perfect spot high on a hill, but close enough to hear the ocean loud and clear at night (but not the Pacific Coast Highway,) with a stunning panoramic view of the Pacific Ocean, and the palisades diving into its waters. On a clear day you can even see Catalina. When I was growing up, in the Midwest, Catalina was the only salad dressing that I liked, now it’s an island of the Pacific coast. Sigh.

So, our last day we spent in Hollywood and that felt a bit surreal, and I certainly didn’t feel like we were at home there, but when we drove back to Jackie’s house, the girls pretending to be asleep in the back, the cool ocean air in our faces, I truly felt like I was driving home. Maybe it was Jackie’s perfection as a hostess, or maybe, just maybe, I am a Malibu Barbie Girl at heart.

Sure does feel like it right now, as I smell the remnant of cat pee and still, after four days, cannot find where it is coming from.

So, there will be more about Malibu and Los Angeles, and please don’t worry mom, I won’t be moving there anytime soon, if not ever, I just. Well, I really really like it there. A lot. Please, someone tell me why its a terrible place! Bring me out of my why do I live in New York City depression that I have sunk into with such excessive force. And while it could also have something to do with hormonal imbalance and PMDD, the end of vacation blues are never good.