Didn't kiss no pigs but did have a glorious drive down (up? up and down?) Sunset Blvd. from the Getty Museum to the heart of Hollywood. (Unfortunately, the only stars we saw were of the reality-show stripe, Bruce and Kris Jenner, sitting in the booth next to ours at Beso, the restaurant managed by son Ethan. I had to be told who they were. Ethan also introduced us to Beso chef Todd English, who arrived at the restaurant with a bevy of beauties.)
The work part of the week went fine. I spoke about Mommy/Daddy-loves-you-best books at Pomona to an audience of enthusiastic students, profs, booksellers and writers (Susan Patron, Candace Ryan, and Megan Whalen Turner graciously attended.) After lunch (our thirty-year-old favorite, patty melts at Walters, which has gotten way fancier) the next day with my old Pitzer bestie Ruth, we went over to the campus for a rather more intime (read: sparsely attended) but lively discussion of censorship with Susan and then went for a walk around the campus, which has doubled in size since the 70s. The students were very polite to us Olds, and even praised the cafeteria food. (The all-you-can-eat ice cream, rumored to be a string attached to a bequest, was gone, but I noted that two vegan specialities were offered on each menu.) Right: Susan Patron and me.
And son Dorian and his wife were very gracious to drive out to SFO for our stopover on the way home, bringing number-one-grandson Miles along for our adoration. When did he turn from a baby into a little boy? (He's not even a year yet, so it must be the haircut.)
And now I'm back and pondering the in-box drama that is the ALSC discussion of lowering its age level of service from fourteen to thirteen. It's amazing what can draw fire from the dragon ladies' throats!