Dennis Hollingsworth

Goin' Back to Cali

Just as the door of our Dallas loft clicked shut behind us, we realized that we had left the keys and the maps inside. It was midnight.

What a way to begin.

Luckily, we had a spare key (thanks to Penske, who advised us to divide the keys amongst us just for this eventuality). We got maps along the way. Twenty one hours to Phoenix, two naps and a lunch in Old Town Albequerque. (The old town was a pleasant surprise due to its unpretentious scruffiness.)

Weary from the drive, we slept for the night at Stephanie's Aunt Chickie and Uncle Dick's place in North Phoenix. Off again the next morning, bound for LA to stay at Aunt Eileen and Uncle Bobby's place in Tujunga, we get another short night of sleep before the big offload.

This, a shot of the truck halfway unloaded, doesn't show the fifty stairs to the house and the stuff and tuck of our possessions into the nooks and crannies of our house. Ninja landlords. Tired ninja lanlords, even though we had hired a couple of guys to help (Felix and Humberto, thanks to Home Despot's street labor facilitation), the job was physically exhausting. We are still wincing, creeky bones and strained muscles.

With the bulk of the work behind us, we enjoy the company of friends. Greg and Dinah took us out for noodles and sushi in the WestSide. Nothing like hot noodle soup to soothe the tough day we had. Sake and toasts. Good friends.


The next night, Jean Milant cooks dinner for us at his house atop the hill in Echo Park.

Me: "Jean, do you eat like this all the time, or are you munching on pop tarts in your bathrobe when you're alone?"
Dinner guest: "No, he eats better than this!"
That's about right. A beautiful and delicious meal, great conversation.

The next night, an overnight stay with my old friend Troy and his family (two beautiful baby girls). We had to miss an opening in ChinaTown, a tough night to miss as Dave Deany had a solo at China Art Objects. I wish I had known earlier, but the calendar was already hardened. Troy is one of the few guys I consider a brother, seeing him is like coming home for me. (And speaking of home, I have no pics of Troy's house, sorry 'bout that.) He's transforming a house that sits on the side of a hill in Ojai, amazing work. Troy has a genius for manifesting a sense of place, it's no wonder that he's a production designer in Hollywood.