While in Los Angeles, I had announced to my travelling companions that I intended to walk every morning since I was accustomed to the habit while at home. They laughed at me, but decided to partake in the adventure no less since they noticed how serious I was about my daily ritual.

One morning I drove up to Griffith Park and decided to tackle the five-mile walk toward the Hollywood sign. I put my i-pod on as usual and began trekking. My companions decided to converse and walk while taking photos, making the climb up the course much more difficult. I kept looking back only to discover the gap between them and myself getting further and further apart. I shrugged and continued my trek until I could no longer see the two of them. I stopped midway atop the mountain and waited for them. After a long while, they showed up and announced they could not continue on the five-mile trek since they both felt flustered and exhausted and in my opinion completely bored. They asked if we could return back so they could rest.

I felt disappointed but gave in, meanwhile thinking what a bunch of sissies I was dealing with. After all I was in my 40’s and the both of them were 25 each. When we finally reached the bottom of the path (I think we trekked about 2 miles up and 2 miles back down), they seemed more tired than I and in need of major hydration. So, feeling bad for the two of them, I drove to my favorite spot on Franklin Street, The Oaks Gourmet, where (in my opinion) they make pretty good energy drinks to quench one’s thirst and recharge the body. Besides the place is so cute and “gourmetalicious” that I use any excuse to buy something there.

While I contemplated which shake to order from the menu, I noticed they had migrated over to the wine selection. Out of shear curiosity I joined them to see what they were fascinated by and noticed the wine on the racks and crates had interesting labels to say the least. I watched while their eyes lit up as they circled the display cases in order to pick and chose the perfect labeled bottle which they felt best represented them. The girls were not tired after all.

Anyway, they picked their labels and paid for the bottles and walked out completely energized and ready to plan their evening of dancing and drinking. When I mentioned about going to bed early so we could do the walk again, I got nothing but dirty looks. So I took the peanut butter cupcake I purchased  for myself and bit into it while wondering if I was ever like that when I was their age? I swear I cannot remember for the life of me, but the cupcake was to die for.

Anyway, here is a glimpse of their choice of label, need I say more:

Our Choice of Wine