You want an Advil with that?

This morning, as I started making plans for our day, Craig said, "Uh-oh, Melissa's making plans. We're gonna need Advil."

Now, in my defense, hiking up to the Hollywood sign seemed pretty much like an awesome idea. I mean, seriously, what better way to see the Hollywood sign than from 20 feet away, not to mention, gorgeous views of L.A. clear out to the Pacific Ocean? And a six-mile hike did not seem like a big deal for a man who swims 12,000 meters a week and a  nineteen year-old who works out more often than he eats (although after having him visit us the last three days, I can verify that there is a strong correlation between his trips to the gym and his food intake).

But, back to me and my awesome plans ...

So, here's the deal. L.A. has its fair share of smog. I'd been wanting to go to Griffith Park, as Wikipedia (clearly, a reliable source of information) touts its 4,300 acres of untamed wilderness as one of the best parks in the country. I was just flat out ready for deep breaths of clean air. However, the part of the Griffith Park description I failed to recognize was that several of the key observatories sit on this-or-that slope of this-or-that mountain. Specifically, the Hollywood sign sits on the summit of Hollywood Mountain. Did you catch that? Mountain. Alas, I did not.

Twenty minutes into our hike, I realized I hate my shoes. Forty minutes in, and I was desperately looking for a bush. An hour in and we realized that, although it was only 11:30, there was a very good chance we were going to miss lunch, shopping, and the 2:00 opening of Iris.

At several points along the hike, Matt or Craig would point 90 degrees up and make a comment such as, "Wow, I'm glad we don't have to go way up there." Hah.

Dodging the enormous horse plops was a challenge. The closer we'd get to each summit, the bigger the plops. My theory? The horses knew they'd never make it unless they lightened their load.

My men would have to admit, the views from the top of Mount Hollywood are beautiful. And the skid down took half the time as the hike up, plus it was oh-so-fun to make snide, breathless comments about the folks we passed. "Oh, a walking stick. Now there's an idea,"or "Yeah, they're gonna cry before they make it half way," or "Pink flip-flops. Are you kidding me?" By then, we were so delirious, we played a game called, "Which part of you hurts the worst?" Good times.

Next time we go (yes, I think there will be a next time), we won't tell our "guest" that the ascent is over 1,000 feet in under three miles. We'll pack better snacks. And we won't go to Cirque du Soleil the same day. Although we made it to our seats before the conductor lifted his baton, we slept soundly through most of the first act.

Just for the record, today we went to Santa Monica and enjoyed a leisurely bike ride from the pier to Venice beach. I swear I heard Craig say, more than once, "Today was so much better than yesterday."

Harumph.