The studio also serves as a guest room for when my mama visits. She was snooping around the messy stacks and shelves and pulled out the big black and white copy I made of "They Call This Work."

She's a big fan of the piece--bought herself an iPhone case even.

On Friday morning I'll jump in my little car and drive to pick up my mama at the Burbank airport. She knows by now that the Fiat will only hold the smallest of suitcases. We'll probably drive back to Silver Lake via Griffith Park, with the top down. It smells good in the park.

I just read in TIME (by which I mean, I read a story online, via a tweet by Roger Ebert--following a pretty typical way I find out about such things) that Larry McMurtry was shuttering all but one of his bookstores in Archer City.

A little more interneting lead me to a New York Times piece on the same story, and also a newly favorite New York Times Correction:

 

Pics from a morning walk from my beloved Silver Lake to nearby Atwater Village with my beloved pup, iPhone in hand. Obvs.

I take my iPhone on every walk not just for very important documentation (my dog, walking up stairs!), but because I am addicted to the RunKeeper app. Must know my pace and mileage and time. Must walk 100 miles a month. We totally could be on each other's Street Team, keep track of each other's walking and running adventures, egg each other on, get competitive. My handle is: sachabee / Sacha Baumann.

 

My LACMA membership has some pretty incredible perks. Yesterday: a field trip to a Gwathmey designed home at the top of Bel Air filled with incredible artworks (a Lichtenstein in the bathroom, no less).

And the view: whoa. Why would one ever leave?

When I began to take a few snaps I was politely told that our host preferred no pictures. Curious. But with such a generous host I wanted to respect her request. That said, I'm happy a got some images. And luckily, unlike at MOCA where the security guards supervise while you delete them, I was able to keep the few I took.

Saturday's All In For the the 99% was a huge success. Tons and tons of people, great art (including Retna, Curtis Kulig, Shepard Fairey, Anthony Lister, Robbie Conal, Estevan Oroil, Jill Greenberg, Skull Phone, ME),  really good music (Vicci Martinez, Fitz and the Tantrums, Moby, Tenacious D), pretty celebs (oh hello Mr. Edward Norton, so nice to meet you), inspiring and rousing speeches (that Van Jones is going places), all the Evian I could drink (fancy), and the wonderful company of friends. But the very best part? That little red dot: my piece sold. Hell ya!

After what seems like weeks of sunshine the skies were gloomy today. But nothing else was--all the fresh foliage was bright green against the gray skies and the air felt alive. I was antsy to get out in it. The pup and I headed out for an urban walk, starting in Chinatown.

Probably didn't want to go in that tunnel anyway. Our destination was Radio Hill. Didn't take long to get there–turns out we went the back way.