I just found out one of my favorite stops in L.A. shut its buns late last year and vanished. If you've never heard of Tail o' the Pup, it's a hot-dog stand shaped like a giant hot dog, which has been around since 1946. I wrote about it a few years ago over at The Big Waste of Space. Back when I was living in Simi Valley for a couple of years, I'd try to hit this place whenever I could, especially when family was in town.

At the time, I think I liked Pink's better, but in retrospect I remember the Pup more fondly. The dogs were great and it didn't take 45 minutes to shuffle through a disorganized mob to place your order. Oh, and it was shaped like a giant hot dog!

Word got out about the closure from someone who overheard the owner talking to one of the Pup's patrons. The story hit the papers from there. Apparently, the Pup was on a month-to-month lease and the landlord gave the Blake family, who owns Tail o' the Pup, only 30 days' notice to vacate. The big frank was put in storage in late December. ... Continued

My parents finally sold their old house today. The call came this afternoon when my older brother and I were helping my dad move out the last few items. The big move was several months ago, but there were still some scattered things to be collected.

This is the same house I grew up in. I wasn't born there, but we moved in shortly thereafter, perhaps just to complicate the paperwork for that year. You know, to aid in the obfuscation of my adoption. In any event, most of my pre-college memories, and a few from the agonizingly slow couple of months following my stint in California, are associated with the place.

Regardless, I haven't really felt much of a connection with the house for some time. I moved out more than a decade ago, my bedroom no longer looks the way I remember it and the den where I watched all my important TV was repurposed as a guest room years ago. Even the surrounding neighborhood has become, let's say, disenchanting. The house I lived in seems to exist only in a technical sense. The address is the same, but my bunk beds and Dr. Who posters are long gone. ... Continued

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A text message flashed on my cell phone this evening at about 6:45:

"Look at the moon! xoxo"

I do as my gadgets tell me, especially when there are x's and o's involved, so I stepped over to my window and peeked through the blinds. "Ah yes," I said, suddenly reminded that there was a full moon tonight, "There's a full moon tonight."

I hesitated before grabbing my camera bag, since I knew the moon wouldn't be nearly as spectacular by the time I got anywhere. But I figured I'd run out anyway and hit a recently abandoned factory I've been meaning to shoot.

After about half an hour trying to make the building's midcentury entryway appear as interesting on film as it was in person, a white van pulled up next to my car. Security, I figured. I expected someone eventually.

Now, I've been in this situation enough times to know what to do:

1. Smile. It throws them off. Especially if you wave and say hi.
2. Introduce yourself and tell them what you're doing. Those were going to be their first two questions, anyway, and they won't know where to go next.

I was informed just yesterday that Trader Vic's in Dallas, which opened in 1966 and closed in 1989, will soon be reopening!

Reportedly, the original tiki decor has remained in place since its closing. The developer was quoted last May saying that it will all be restored to its original luster and replaced exactly the way it was found.

The rumor is that everything's now complete; they're just waiting for the rest of the Hotel Palomar development to be finished.

I drove by there today and it looks like they've got a long way to go. Let's hope they still hit their target to open in June.