La Jolla

I had always heard how beautiful La Jolla is. And to all those people who have told me, wow were you right on. It is pristine and spectacular.

Overcast again today, apparently part of what is referred to as June Gloom around here. I filed out of the Padre Trail and decide to spend the day looking around different communities to think about places to live. I'm a beach person, and the ocean calms and excites me like no other entity, so I was heading toward Ocean Beach. I had been there before, but I wasn't as familiar with the area as I am with Pacific Beach. On the way to OB, I decided I didn't feel great about the route and turned off towards Mission Beach, another place I had been too a couple times in the past. I kept heading north along the main streets, to the right of the shore, and Mission Beach turned to Pacific Beach and then, without any intention, I was in the kingdom of La Jolla.

I still didn't quite realize where I was, but the landscape kept improving. Along the mainstreets, there was less congestion, no longer houses, restaurants, and shops stacked on top of each other. They were still there, but laid out in a way where you could actually focus on them, instead of having 5 blur into into your brain during a single gaze.

I turned off on a side street to head to the shore. I parked on the street, for free and walked down a little slope onto a pristine beach. Waves massaged the shore in a powerful lull. The water touched my feet and I didn't feel any chill in my bones, just the slight tap of cold followed by a caress of warmth. As I looked to my right I saw the jagged coast line weaving its way north. I followed along the path. For about half a mile I was on an exquisite beach, feeling tickled to be in such a magical place. I walked alongside a very nice man from central Pennsylvania out here with his family for his son's wedding. He was incredulous at the beauty of San Diego. He had been here once before and dipped his feet in the water. I told him that on this trip he owed to himself to fully submerge.

I walked further and saw a few people looking down to an abandoned stretch of beach. Abandoned my humans, fully populated by harbor seals. Playing and thrashing in the water, some lying out on a rock, and one brave little guy who made his way onto the shore to hang out. I couldn't believe I was seeing seals.

Walking further, a massive bird startled me with its size as it flew above. He landed about 10 feet ahead in the company of his fellow pelicans. I couldn't believe I was seeing pelicans.

Still going up the road, I saw the literally hundreds of students of the Junior LIfeguard Academy. They start the fitness training very early out here. I know I'll have to work extra hard to get in shape. One of the lifeguards leading his platoon of junior life savors told a passerby that they were looking at seals down below, but there were sea lions up ahead. Sea lions?! Are you kidding me?

Sure enough, there was a whole school of California Sea Lions relaxing on the rocks, napping and sunbathing. At this point my mind was blown. Sea lions? How incredibly awesome is this! Ahead just a bit further I saw another phalanx of junior lifeguards out in the surf, treading water just about 30 feet from the sea lions. Those kids have got it made. How lucky they are to have such a phenomenal experience at such a young age. I did take a dip into the surf myself, but it was in an area less populated by both humans and other wildlife. Maybe one day I'll be ready to swim with those guys.

So I've made it here. I've been welcomed by friends and given a post from which work to establish myself. Tomorrow is July 1st. I'll be starting the month here, beginning my summer here. Much work ahead, but I think I made it here at the right time.

Hope you like the photos. I took 95 today. In the old days I would have run out of film, one thing you can advocate for digital. I was completely awestruck by what I saw today. Seals, pelicans, sea lions, all along the public shore line. No litter, beautiful walking paths, white sand, excellent surf. And it doesn't cost you a thing, you can park your car along the road for two hours absolutely free. So now I'll echo what I'd been told in the past, if you're out in San Diego, be sure to go to La Jolla Cove.

Old Town San Diego, Safe Haven

I've made it to San Diego. Cheap and good hotel, named similarly to a character Dantana and I have created (the Padre Trail Hotel). That was the reason why I chose it. Walking distance to Old Town San Diego. A historical site, in fact, a national historical site. Certainly, not much is going to happen here on a Tuesday night. But I felt happy just to be here. On my own.

I have so much to do now. Find a job. Find a place to live. Those are very big. When you move, those factors are key.

Despite some of the negative, rude people I met tonight, I feel equipped to deal with hostility. I come from a hostile place. If I end up bartending in Old Town San Diego, I'd probably be bitter too. That's not going to happen to me. I won't allow it. Some people might say my plan is fuzzy, some might think I'm here to goof around, that just shows that you don't know me or have faith in me. The only reason you could feel that way is because you care for me and want the best for me, but think that you know what is better than I do. I don't know everything. I'm uncertain and scared, too. f you really know me, you know that my darkest thoughts come from non-accomplishment, from not fulfilling the untold sacrifice and determination that my parents bestowed upon me. My entire drive comes from seeking achievement and solace to provide for those I love, who have made me what I am. And I am a success. Far from home. Nothing to speak of at the moment, but if you honestly love me, you know that I am capable of great things. Because I come from great people. And the only the path to achieve that is through self fulfillment. If I were to ignore the things I feel inside, I would only be a sycophant, and I can't think of one person who reads this page who could limit me as such. Take risks, calculated risks. Stand up to those who get in your way. When you know what you're shooting for, don't let anyone knock you off the path.

On to San Diego

Just had some breakfast at a diner on the Historic Route 66 here in Santa Monica. Now I'm packing up and headed down south to San Diego. This is where the real work begins. I'm looking forward to getting established.

The other photo there is of Jewel, who popped into the Gas Lite in Santa Monica to karaoke her songs while in disguise as "Karen." It was being filmed for a segment on Funny Or Die.com. She brought the house down, and then came back in as herself as the crowd chanted, "Karen! Karen! Karen!"

It's 66 degrees here in LA. Let's hope it's a bit warmer in my new city.

Hollywood

(this entry was written late last night (Sunday and this morning)

I woke up in San Francisco this morning. Had breakfast with my dad at a diner up the street from the St. Francis. Then on to SFO and a flight on Virgin America bound for LAX.

Back to Mike’s to hideout for the afternoon. Feeling like jello, but with far more energy than I had at any point during the day, I set off for the Hollywood & Highland Parking Lot underneath the Kodak Theatre. Tonight was my concert pilgrimage, Goldfrapp Live at the Hollywood Bowl, with Orquesta Buena Vista Social Club opening up. I climbed behind the wheel for the requisite 20 minutes to my destination.

Wilshire Boulevard. Santa Monica Boulevard. Beverly Hills into the heart of Hollywood. My fuse was lit anew. The radio was tuned to the Dodgers broadcast, a game taking place just a mile or so away. The streets were alive. Rows of packed clubs spilling music onto Sunset Boulevard, plenty of taut, walking mannequins strutting to be seen.

For all the hype and bullshit, you have to know that the Hollywood Hills are a beautiful spot. There's vice and hysteria all around you, but when you separate and just look at the landscape, you can feel the eminence of dreams.

I had never been to the Hollywood Bowl. In 2007, Gibby, Jim and I came out here for a week intending the Pet Shop Boys play here, their only US date that year. Unfortunately, that show was cancelled. So three years on, I finally made it. This time, for Goldfrapp's last US show, and one of only 5 that they performed Stateside. The night before they were in San Francisco for Pride Weekend, I can imagine that was quite a celebration. In case you aren't familiar with Goldfrapp, you can check them out here...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tSdZAkA4VpA

In case you aren't familiar with the Buena Vista Social Club, you can check them out too,
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u14jLbNT9Tg&feature=related

As exciting as these two acts are, I felt they seemed a little disparate in style to share the same bill. All I can say is it worked.
The crowd was very exciting and diverse. Scores of Cubans and other Latins, many wearing the little Cuban hats; and then a tremendous amount of Goldfrapp fans dressed just like the dancers in that video. A high amount of male and female homosexuals, but most of the women were lipstick lesbians clad in 80s aerobic attire, far more preferable than a barrage of lumberjack lesbians. This was Xanadu.

I had a good seat to myself about halfway up the amphitheatre, but it was in the middle of a long bench. I took in the BVSC through the beauty of magic hour, watching couples of all ages dance and smile. I wondered if some of the crowd would leave before the headliner, they certainly did not. The crowd grew and the excitement swelled.

Not wanting to be stuck in a row of strangers I went further back to sit in an aluminum chair in between sections. The spectacle began in a sea of red wind and dry ice, and the stunning Alison Goldfrapp took us all on a hypnotic journey into Utopia (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KIiPn9sVvQY&feature=related)

The lullaby of the opening numbers gave way to a pulsing beat, as the band ripped through a set comprised entirely of the new album Head First and the more driving tracks of Supernature and Black Cherry. Killer set list. I took in a few different vantage points around the Bowl, trying to bathe in the sound and reflect on all that I've seen and felt lately. I didn't mingle at all, this was not yet my time to assimilate. I don't think I interacted with anyone other than a couple of vendors and an older lady I watched out for as she had trouble ascending the steep slopes of the Hollywood Bowl (how cool is it that there people in their 60s and 70s rocking out to Goldfrapp!) Before I knew it, we were at the finale of Strict Machine
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wn9ETvfIRFQ)
I was behind a row of terrace seating, bouncing along with the crowd in rhapsodic reverie.

Just like that it was over. Back onto the shuttle bus to the Kodak Theatre. Understanding that traffic would be a nightmare, I decided to lay back a bit and do the cliche, taking in Hollywood Boulevard. There was nothing planned, but I looked down at one point and saw Robert Evans' star underneath my feet. I started to pay a bit of attention and looked at the cement square tiles in front of Grauman's Chinese Theatre. Though I'd been here several times before, I never bothered to look. Now I was looking at the hand and shoe sizes of Humphrey Bogart, Sean Connery, and Clint Eastwood. There was Michael Douglas right next to his dad, Kirk Douglas. Over there, Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell. This was fun.

I've been miserable since I got out here. But I'm thankful that there truly is Hollywood magic. I felt better last night.


post script: Of course, laying immediately adjacent to the glamour and beauty of Hollywood is the broken hearted circus, various wack jobs dressed as movie characters looking for attention that is eagerly provided by thick waisted tourist families. The biggest crowd last night was for a seven year old dancing like Michael Jackson, in full Michael "Smooth Criminal" attire. The kid had the moves down, but I just felt so sad for him. An image of a barbaric carnival leader conditioning him to perform and then taking his money and locking the kid up in a cage until the next show. That's Hollywood.

photos from SF

Update.

Show went well tonight. My dad did a great job to the point where the show was seamless. One couldn't think of what went wrong because everything went so well. My dad, as usual, did an exemplary job.

We had a nice dinner at some swank bistro up the street afterwards. Can't imagine when the next time I'll be in such a nice hotel or nice restaurant. Just like the flight the other day was my first one in so long.

The traffic here on the site has slowed dramatically but I'll still write and reach you, any one who maintains interest. The point was to catalogue a total coast to coast transition, not just a drive from one place to the other. Enforcing what I already expected, my encounters already tell me I've moved to one of the most suspicious, loneliest places on earth.

Reset

Settling in here in beautiful San Francisco. Very unique and vivacious city. I'm a bit slow and overwhelmed out on the streets. Quite a big city, with far more pedestrians than LA, constant traffic and motion; all that coupled with the shock of grief and I'm bumbling a bit as I try to amble along.

In the hopes of revitalization, I made my way into Chinatown yesterday for nourishment. Found a very cool sushi place and happily began a heavy intake of seaweed, sushi, green tea, and sake. Then it was around the corner for an acupuncture session to help rebalance my system. One funny exchange on that...I asked my waiter, who went by the stage name of Raymond, if he knew of a good acupuncturist nearby. Raymond spoke little English, so I'm sure if I knew the term in Japanese he'd understand, but I asked him and he responded, "what is acupuncture?" --"An ancient Chinese art of healing, with needles?" He had no idea.

The treatment significantly soothed the knots in my neck, shoulders, and lower back. Rejuvenated, I made my way back into the streets to meet my dad and head down to AT & T Park to see the Red Sox take on the Giants. We had a nice long walk and culture immersion into the stadium. It was the first time the Red Sox had been here since 2004, and we all know how well things turned out that year, the year when life changed and suddenly the most extravagant of dreams became more possible. Very intense and positive atmosphere in the beautiful park. We had incredible seats but were absolutely freezing. It couldn't have been more than 55 degrees at game time and there was a roiling mist whirling through the park from the bay on the other side of the fence. I had wisely stopped into H & M to get a sweatshirt before heading in. My dad was increasingly constricted by the cold so I went into the concourse and bought him an official Red Sox thermal to not only aid in fighting the cold but also to feel wardrobe kinship with the pros on our beloved team. The Sox came up short but it was a good game.

After a nice long walk back I headed upstairs and went right to sleep. We met up for breakfast and talked all about the difficult transitions we're feeling. Sad, but healing, and comforting to be together.

Have to quickly get ready now to help prepare everything for tonight's awards ceremony. Going to be a long day and night but I wanted to check in and wish you all a good Saturday.

Safe in San Francisco

Hello all. Have arrived safely here in San Francisco. It's freezing! I think the temperature is around 62 degrees.
At left is the view of Union Square from my hotel room.

Headed downstairs now to meet up with my dad.

Delayed at LAX

(this entry was composed at 8am Pacific Time)



Sitting at LAX awaiting my flight to San Francisco. The airport shuttle arrived half an hour ahead of schedule, fortunately I was ready after having tired of lying restless through intermittent sleep on an air mattress.



Really looking forward to seeing my dad. Certainly wish that circumstances were better but everything happens for a reason, even though that reason may not be clear at the time.

Yesterday was a very slow and hollow day. Though I woke up feeling fractured and without motivation I did force myself to head south on Wilshire down to the Santa Monica shore. The temperature was the stereotypical 72 but the sand was still hot from the sun. I waded directly into the surf without a trace of cold or trepidation. The water was warm and soothing. I plunged in, arcing my body over the crest of a few waves, delighting in the drum of the surf beating against the shore. The current was strong yesterday, and without too much time to kill I retreated to my mat to dry off in the sun. My nerves calmed a bit, but my head would not clear. After about twenty minutes of sad contemplation, I went back up Wilshire to prepare for the day.

Next stop Glendale. My friend and host here was running game show host auditions at studio out there, and I would be appearing later as a fill in contestant playing to an imaginary audience. I must have done okay, because I was asked back for four rounds, finding new banter with the parade of stand up comics and one former 90210 star looking to secure the hosting gig. I was polite but didn’t interact too much with the crew or other stand-ins, I didn’t see the point as I was only there to do what I was told and then leave. But I made a bit of pocket money and pondered the artifice of show biz.

Last evening was spent grilling chicken on a little balcony between Santa Monica and Brentwood, talking Hollywood. I couldn’t wait to go to sleep, but once I did my body did not respond too well. So another night of harried rest.

But let’s not complain. I’m awaiting my maiden voyage to San Francisco (-- I just heard my flight was delayed) with a job to do for my dad. Looking forward…

Miss You

I sit here brokenhearted. All joy has left my body and soul. When I arrived last night, I received the devastating news that Nicholas, the most wonderful and kind little pug you could imagine, was hit by a car and killed instantly. This dog was an integral member of our family, and to lose him suddenly is crushing. Many of you know and love Nicholas, and I am sorry to bear such awful news. I'm not sure that this is the forum for the news but not only is this all I can think about, I don't have anyone to talk to. I wish so badly that I was home with my family. It feels miserable to be away from them.

Nicholas, you are in our hearts forever.

Blow Out

(this entry was composed yesterday afternoon and this morning)

Earlier today, I made my expected stop in Joshua Tree National Park. Turning off of Route 10, driving across the plain towards the mountains of the Colorado Desert, I started to have kind of a sinking feeling. This was the middle of nowhere, and though it was a bitter cooler here, 97 degrees, as opposed to 107 in Arizona and Palm Springs, I thought that this was not the place to go exploring on your own with all your stuff packed into your car. I pulled over at a lookout point just to peruse my surroundings, but I immediately felt worried that I had turned off the engine, what if it didn’t start back up? I had already covered over 150 miles in searing heat. I looked at my phone, no service whatsoever. So I had saddled up and got right back out on the highway. I’ll check out the Joshua trees some other time.

The 10 winds through the desert and the mountains, 50 mile stretches with no civilization in sight. The highlight was coming down from the mountains into the valley where Coachella and Indio sit. The descent provided spectacular view of the valley and introduced the Southern California smog.

I filled up briefly in Coachella and then made a quick pass through Palm Springs. My excitement for the waves of the Pacific was driving straight towards Santa Monica. For the past week, broiling in heat from across the country, I kept daydreaming of plunging into the ocean, just as I do any time I have been out this way. The rush of blue and crash of waves jangled through my imagination bringing electricity through my chest and behind my cheekbones. I kept pushing West towards the shores of Santa Monica, giddy with anticipation.

As the distance for LA clicked downward, I stopped in San Bernardino at the site of the original McDonalds. Part of me wanted to skip it, but I kept hold of my previous inclination and made my way over. There is no actual McDonalds on the site, a legal determination made by Roy Krok himself all the way back in the 1950s, and the term museum is applied very loosely. Aside from the vintage displays out front, the artifacts are displayed with a few jumbled showcases across from rows of cubicles for some business whose operation was a mystery to me. But I took in the sights of Happy Meal toys from throughout the ages and quickly made my way back to the car.

Traffic was piling up on the 10 and driving was more harried than it had been at any point on my journey. Though I’ve seen The American Recovery and Reinvestment Act in effect on earlier stretches of the 10 and many of the other highways across the country, this stretch of road was rough and battered. It was only about 50 miles to Ocean Drive, and even with heavily slowed traffic, I would be at the beach within a maximum of ninety minutes.

Passing into the left lane in fast moving congestion was when I heard it. A brisk burst echoed by clanging metal and the smell of burnt rubber. I could see pieces of my tire spray onto the highway like confetti as the car shook violently. I threw on the hazards and moved towards the right lane. I knew I had seen a sign for an exit one mile away. The car was clanging, bouncing, and screaming for relief. I didn’t want to be on the side of the highway, but I did pass a call box in the minimal breakdown area. Understanding I could be sacrificing my rim I trudged towards the exit.

Now I have seen various cars broken down across most of the 14 states I’ve traveled through. Each time I would silently send my plea out to the universe, I hope that person finds help soon.

Completely unaware of what I’d find, I felt the exit would provide a safer haven to repair this damage than the 10. At this point I was unsure as to whether it was one back tire or both of them, and I began to wonder how long it would take Triple AAA to come and restore my caravan. As the car jostled down the exit, I looked over the shoulder of the road and saw a mechanic shop 50 yards off to the right. Firestone All Service Auto Care, right off the exit.

What I can attribute this to is a mystery to me, but I was incredibly lucky. First of all, neither I nor anyone else was hurt. Second of all, I was able to make it off the highway very quickly, into the waiting sanctuary of an auto repair shop.

The car limped into the station and I hopped out to assess the damage. The rear passenger tire was in tatters, it had completely blown out.

I walked into the station and my luck began to continue. Though the shop was out of the specific tires that I needed, I had a spare that was the required tire, so I could have that put on and then just by a new spare. And while I wait? There was a restaurant across the street where happy hour had just begun. I hadn’t eaten for over six hours, so I ambled over to the bar and revitalized my body with a chicken quesadilla, iced tea, and a Cazadores margarita, all for $14 bucks.

About 80 minutes later, I climbed back in my restored chariot and set out for the Ocean. Traffic had died down, and the ride was smoother. But the sun was setting quickly and the temperature was dropping precipitously from the triple digit highs of the desert. By the time I turned onto the 4th street exit it was evening, 62 degrees.

My submersion into the Pacific would have to wait another day.

Going to California

Finally a decent night of sleep and waking up at a normal hour. I'm heading out shortly for California. Hopping on the 10 West all the way to Santa Monica. Along the way I'll pass Joshua Tree National Park, Palm Springs, and the McDonalds Museum in San Bernardino. Of course I may not make it to the museum before close. Today will be a return to traffic, though I had really been enjoying life without it. It will also mark the close of Phase One, the cross country drive. From today forward I will be stationed in California. LA tonight and tomorrow, San Francisco this weekend, and then on to San Diego for career building. Life is moving much faster lately and I like it.

Dia Ocho

Today was day 8, and beyond a doubt the most boring of the bunch. I felt behind, despite being on a a very liberal time table. There was really nothing to see throughout New Mexico, unless you are into casinos, and I don't gamble. I did hear an ad on the radio for KISS scratch tickets, so I made 4 extra stops at gas stations and liquor stores to find a few for my friend Flex, but no one had any. Thus, I was kind of pissed.

Stopped in Gallup, and found myself in a very real part of the country that is so much more than places around it but, in the face of the greater picture, is quite small. Very interesting. I don't know the tribe, but I did hear some native language while devouring my donut at the local bakery in Gallup. My mind set wasn't right at the time, but even now I feel better about the experience and realize that I will continue to.

Next thing I know, I'm outside Flagstaff during their 19 square mile brushfire. I could see the smoke from almost sixty miles away. Fortunately, none of the roads I needed were closed, and it's a good thing I chose to go Route 10 into CA, because otherwise I'd be bunking up somewhere near Flagstaff for the night. That fire is no joke. I guess I should get used to such things.


17 South is easily the most beautiful road that I've been on during this trip. Winding roads through trees and canyons, and the road felt soft, almost entwined with the car. It was incredible. The only recent parallel I can think of is Route 15 between Connecticut and New York. Despite the differences in landscape, they are very similar. 2 lane highways full of beautiful landscape.

Against my better judgement, in want of a shower and no human contact, I pulled off 10 miles south of Phoenix to use the facilities and grab a drink. Sure enough, I find a local that advises me to avoid Phoenix and go to Scottsdale. Even better,they know the owner of a good hotel near Old Scottsdale. So I find myself in a Clarion Suites for 58 bucks. The nicest room I've had so far.

Ultimately, a couple of nice circumstances after a very boring and lonely day. Tomorrow onto LA, that's where the real loneliness will be waiting. I love LA. Honestly. But I have felt some of the loneliest moments of my life there. I have some sites to see on the way. And I'm looking forward to making a go of all this. A week ago, I was too in anticipation of my destination. Now I want my journey. But I realize how natural that is. They journey is a product of my state of mind. And I found myself in Scottsdale, which is lovely, as opposed to Phoenix tonight. It's very Southern Cal here, palm trees, outdoor restaurants. But I just don't get that without the ocean. I want to make my mark in San Diego.

Night Out In Alburquerque

Am I the only person that relates Alburquerque to Bugs Bunny? After such wonderful time in Santa Fe, I descended upon this city in search of solace. The first time I have booked a hotel in advance. Hoping for a pool to lounge in, a room away from the highway, a place where I didn't have to look over my shoulder in exchange for a reduced rate (because hey, I paid 66 bucks for this res), the city that holds more than half of the state's population, I thought I would find respite.

Well, the pool was dirty and, though the hotel made numerous mentions of its security (in spite of the fact it is located across from a public park, where I noticed numerous denizens sitting out, almost hunting for gullible tourists to wander uncharted into their thieving hands), I found myself feeling less than safe. Regardless, I had a room facing West. I was right downtown and, honestly, what can you expect from any city on a Monday night. I did well.

Wondering the main street exhausted, looking for some sustenance, I ended up in some lounge ordering an egg and jalapeno sandwich, which was sensational. But then they started playing Adam Lambert. Quite loud on the PA but also displayed on the video screens and I needed to escape immediately. I found myself at a seemingly suitable location. Yet I sat at a table entirely ignored, for a protracted amount of time. It wasn't all bad though. The bouncer questioned me about being a Red Sox fan. "Does that bother you?" I asked. "Not at all, I'm a Rangers fan," he replied and, though I offered that they were in first place, he astutely replied that they always play well in the first half of the season before falling to pieces.

I found myself in a pool hall, which made me feel good about my affinity for "The Color Of Money" and the fact that I had already highlighted Robert Palmer's standout song on the soundtrack ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FOqOvsjpGOU). The place was rather dead. But the movie reminded me that pool halls are for diehards to begin with, and those are both males and females completely disinterested in those who can't challenge them or be hustled. I am horrible at pool. No skill whatsoever, despite the occasional lucky streak. Thus, I stayed by the bar, and found myself in conversation with a displaced local and a fellow traveler. I questioned the traveler about extending my route an additional night to stay in Palm Springs. He advised against it. And he had just spent a weekend in Charlestown, Ma, and loved it. (originally from Milwaukee, been up and down all over).

So, seven plus hours to Phoenix. Then 6 hours to LA. It was nice to spend a day enjoying the sites of one state. If you couldn't tell from my rather harried post, I loved Santa Fe. I felt so much that I couldn't even express it, in hopes of relaxing in Alburqeruque. I should have realized that I had already reached my apex for the day. That's the way trips like this go. It's not like a planned vacation to a destination, where you have seven days and live it up only to wonder where the time went. Experiences I had yesterday feel like a lifetime ago. Things I'm looking forward to...I quite honestly have no idea what to expect. But I am clear on one thing, I I have some time because I have created this opportunity. And I have only done that because I have been, and remained to be unemployed and adrift without a rudder for far too long. I refuse to let that continue. . .

As long as I get to stop at the original McDonalds in San Bernardino, I'm okay.