Four and a half days

Besides talking, eating and talking some more, what did I do in Los Angeles?

I tried to see the Salvador Dali show at the LACMA. I was there at noon, but the first entry time I could get was 4:00. (Most people got their tickets in advance, online. Doh.)

So I went to other parts of the museum to kill time. Also showing (and not requiring separate admission) was SoCal: Southern California Art of the 1960a and 70s, which included Ed Kienholz’s Back Seat Dodge '38.

I made sure to revisit one of my favorite collections: Hindu. There’s a bronze I love of Ganesha, Lord of Obstacles. You have problems? Then dance!

It was only 3:00 when I finished the rest of the museum and I wasn’t in the mood to hang around another hour. And I might have been hypoglycemic. What the hell. Maybe tomorrow. (I didn’t get back.)

My former wife and I went to the Geffen Contemporary at the MOCA to see the Murakami exhibit. I’m not generally a huge fan of Japanese cartoon art, but it was a very cool show. How can you not like a 20-foot chrome cartoon Buddha, a pinup that transforms into a jet fighter, or rabbits that discover the fertilizing power of poo?

Afterward we had wonderful dim sum in Chinatown (a Sunday brunch tradition with us) and then wandered around Olivera Street a few blocks away. Now there’s something you can’t do in Charlotte.

We took in a couple of movies. Two big thumbs up for Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead and a thumb and a half for Gone Baby Gone.

We made a run to Ikea. I scored a chandelier and a duvet cover. She got rolling storage boxes.

We had meatloaf with a bunch of old friends at Kate Mantilini, Cuban lamb at Versailles, chili dogs at Tommy's, lunch at a kosher-style restaurant, pancakes at a cozy neighborhood joint, a late night “snack” of crab cakes at Grand Lux Cafe, barbecue at some friends’ home, and shrimp with mushroom risotto and squash soup at Le Petite Bistro on New Year’s Eve.

And, finally, because we are both weird in many of the same ways, and because we still value our doomed marriage, we got matching tattoos: a small X for the Best. Ex. Ever.