"You are living up to your middle name" my father tells me as I walk up to the roof. I smile at him and open the door leading out on to our simple townhouse roof with it's graying view of the Hollywood sign and a gentle row of palm trees. We moved into this townhouse when I was about 15. I lived here till I was 18, in a nice-sized room with a ceiling that looks like cottage cheese...now why did that just make me think of my thighs :) Anyway, now I stand on the roof at night, there is a soft rain, the air smells clean, which can be unusual for Los Angeles, I hear a helicopter in the distance and watch it hover clumsily away. Lights twinkle in the Hollywood Hills. I stand for a moment appreciating the view, then I unzip my tent and stoop down a little to walk in. I have lived in a tent on my father's roof for the past 3 weeks. My tent is cozy and warm complete with an air-mattress, colorful blankets and a rainbow striped rug. I even strung up a small set of white lights and a pink star lantern (there is an outlet close by). At first, my two brothers and my father offerred up their rooms, not really understanding that I would rather wake up to the smell of the outdoors despite the fact that it is in the middle of LA. When they peeked into the tent I could tell that they may consider pitching a tent in the future, especially being that indoor plumbing is a stairwell away:) Anyway, I will miss it up here in my penthouse suite.
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