Remember when those fierce Santa Ana winds came tearing through Los Angeles the first day of December uprooting fences and crushing trees onto rooftops leaving us all here to feel something akin to Dorothy, frantically clicking on our red bejeweled shoes mumbling “there’s no place like home”? Our electricity went out for three days too, but luckily Kelsey somehow scored the last high powered generator at Home Depot and our inventory was ultimately left unharmed. She says she didn’t hurt anyone in the process and we, the team here at Heirloom, never questioned her. This was our morning. Our afternoon was spent on a scavenger hunt in heavy traffic anxiously searching for internet service, our chief artery to maintaining business. Starbucks, you got it? No. La Mill… Intelligentsia? No and no. Westside, here we come, but very slowly. Cell phones sufficed when our telephone service was down, but service was shoddy at best in our area. And then there was the evening when we were scheduled to be a part of an event loftily referred to as Anatomical Theater at MOCA.
Due to the nerve wrenching circumstances leading up to this event, none of us, not even Matt, can really comment much more than to say that the artist, Liz Glynn, was very nice and uncommonly respectful as she solemnly passed around the gory head of a Colorado Lamb that she had commissioned Matt to butcher in front of guests at a dinner party set up outside the museum. Lamb Tar Tar, anyone? Hold on, it’s coming up. Delicious. The evening capped off with a medieval character hoisting himself up on the long dining table, rumbling all the plates and silverware that guests then gleefully thrust down upon the ground, lamb shanks and all.
Waking up the next morning, having narrowly escaped danger of any kind, we were bewildered as our little dog licked our faces and we, Matt and I, concluded decisively that there was, indeed, no place like home.
