This week saw the calendar turn over marking our first year in Los Angeles. We moved in on July 30 of last year – a day spent avoiding the heat at the Virgin Megastore and Pirates of the Caribbean, and sleeping on the floor, as we had no furniture. We went out to Jones for a drink to celebrate the anniversary, and went back and forth with the things we like about living here. With our combination of pleasant surprise and boundless optimism, we were able to go on for at least a half an hour. It has been a great year, and we’re blessed with jobs we love and an apartment and neighborhood we really enjoy.

Aimee took off yesterday for ten days back east with family and friends, which means I’m at home with the task of watching as many movies as I can that Aimee probably doesn’t want to watch. I started with an unexpected but timely screening of The Virgin Spring at the New Beverly last night, a fitting way to commemorate the passing of not only its director, Ingmar Bergman, earlier this week, but also Sherman Torgan, the owner of the New Beverly for nearly thirty years, last week. I’ve got a lot of other things on my plate this weekend, from a trip to the O.C. Fair to the eagerly-awaited Bourne Ultimatum, and a visit from Josh next week. Before you know it, Aimee will be back, and we’ll be halfway through August.