I told David (my husband) that he could choose which restaurant we’d go to tonight, and after a great deal of deliberation he decided on Pinnacle Peak (a perfect choice to show that I really mean “in and around” L.A., and that 1967 is actually a long time ago now, even if you wish it wasn’t.). Their sign is a covered wagon, and there’s a cow on the roof. The cow isn’t really doing anything, and it isn’t lit up at night, like the sign is. It’s just a cow, standing there, on the roof.

-We had heard that they didn’t allow ties, that if you wore one they’d cut it off and hang it on the wall, so I helped David (my husband) choose a tie we didn’t particularly like. The waitress showed us to our table and took our order, then came back a while later ringing a cow bell, talking about how there was a city slicker in the place, and cut off David (my husband)’s tie with big scissors, and everyone cheered. It was fun. I think they give you Continue reading →