Personal note. Blogging was light because I was in Los Angeles for depostions last week. I had kind of an epiphany. You see, I hate LA. I hate the traffic. I hate the traffic jams. I hate not knowing whether I will get where I expect to be when I expect to be there or whether I will be stuck in traffic for an interminable length of time for no apparent reason. I hate the "muscle memory" of the freeways.

Coming into LA on Wednesday night is a case in point. I arrived south of Castaic at about 9:30 p.m., when the flow of traffic went from 70 mph to a craw. After threading my way for an hour and about 5 miles, I went past a couple of flares and was up to 70 mph in a matter of seconds. Obviously, there had been an accident there several hours before and the traffic was still reacting to the obstruction like a python trying to clear an orange from its digestive track.

So, then I was talking to the LA attorney who we are working with. He had to go from from downtown to Simi Valley, which is a distance of about 15 to 20 miles. I asked him how long the trip would take at 4:30 p.m. He said, "not bad...about an hour." An hour to go 20 miles. Heck, I expect to be north of Merced in an hour. Then I realized that the problem was my expection. An hours to go 20 miles is not bad if that's what you're used to. I guess I just need to rethink my attitude about LA. I need to lower my expectations. LA's not that bad; it just takes three times as long to get anywhere.