We were in Los Angeles, Los Feliz area, a stone’s throw from Hollywood and we had a good night’s sleep.  We were finally starting to relax and decide what we would do.

My wonderful wife decided to send me on a book buying spree and she and my super son would relax at the apartment.

I returned from Pasadena with far less material than I expected but enough to keep me happy.  I finally had books to read for the trip.

We then went to the sensitive baker which produces Gluten-free and lactose-free food.  It advertises itself as a cafe and my wonderful wife hoped to have lunch there but it was a vain hope.  Instead I took my son to buy sushi – a new desire of his as he had seen it being made on television the day before – while my wonderful wife decided in peace what to purchase.

I was stuck for where to go for lunch and thought of one place – Souplantation in Beverley Hills.  Now while we had no map I thought I could get us there successfully.  In the end on stop at a gas/service station and we were set.

We walked in and the staff were in a bit of a buzz.  Michael Jackson had died.  It reminded me of the word’s of Don Mclean’s American Pie “the day the music died” about Buddy Holly.  For each generation there seems to be a musician or musicians who define that generation and I know for many people Michael Jackson was their’s.

From there we slowly headed home to get some groceries and allow my super son to play with his new playmate the son of our apartment’s owner.  While the groceries took far longer to get to than expected we at least had new supplies.

Tomorrow: Clueless