Archer is a huge man-baby these days and although I have tried to squeeze his sausagey self into the folds of the Baby Bjorn, I had to retire my favorite baby accessory to the baby gear retirement pile, eventually to end up in baby gear retirement pile in my former closet of my parent's house. Heh. (Ed: the photo to the left is supposedly some dude modeling some backpack-stroller thing that won a design award. Fascinating panel of judges, I assume.)
When I was in San Diego last week my mother literally left the house in her pajamas to buy me this backpack, in her post-hyterectomy-"I'm totally fine, Bec"-anti-surgery- recovering cabin fever victim-ness. Back in L.A. for a few days and OF COURSE I had to give the new ride a ride.
Ahhhhh, yes. Runyan Canyon. My favorite dog park and place to overhear celebrity gossip. Orlando Bloom dishing about Kate Bosworth? Tom Cruise's son talking about "not wanting to talk about Katie Holmes", Bob Barker talking to himself half-dead in his always color-coordinated workout gear, Jakey-poo and Kirsten throwing sticks at various dogs before adopting their own. But this is all in the past, people. Ions ago.
About two weeks after Archer was born I started with my 6:30 am hikes. I was on a serious mission to lose the 800 pounds I had gained. On two hours of total sleep, I got out of bed, grabbed baby Archer and headed for the hills. And I went every single day. OCD much? I was determined to brace the climb without the famous faces intimidating me with their ability to maintain looking perfect, even in sweats and trucker hats.
The best time to not-see celebrities is 6:30 am because they are either at work or still partying. I was right. Several months of early-to-rise-hiking trips and not one familiar face. Just a lot of dogs and gay guys. That's the way, uh-huh-uh-huh, I like it.
When Archer got a little older, I got lazy. Mind you, hiking with a squirmy infant and two dogs is not as easy as it sounds, especially when you got Anthony Kedis' Rhodesian Ridgeback humping Cooper and various porn-stars pomeranian's sequin-rhinestone dresses getting caught in Zadie's collar. I stopped going when Archer was looking a bit awkward, feet dragging up the hill in a half-strapped Bjorn.
BUT THE BACK PACK! Yes. The Backpack: the beginning of a whole new active-era for me and the Arch-man. Not only were we back in action, we would look like we were serious about hiking, not like all the beautiful people in their Paper and Denim and Costume National. So yesterday we went as a family. Mid-afternoon,enormous backpack, two happy dogs. Yeehaw.
We were barely out of the car when, trying to get the backpack on with Archer already in it, I swung myself into Ron Howard and family. But instead of asking "are you okay?" I said "hello." Bryce was there, my former girl-crush and nothing says girl-crush like a baby-backpack in the face.
Mid-afternoon is prime-celeb time, especially for men who like to be checked out by women. Top it all off with GQ's latest blurb about Runyan Canyon being the best place to meet women in L.A." and the hills were stacked with dork cum studs like "the pivert" conveniently jogging downhill with his IPOD.
We kept on up the mountain. Archer giggling from the bumps, me out of shape and bent at a 90 degree angle with my butt sticking out, so I wouldn't topple backwards which of course I did, as soon as we reached the end of the trail and I removed the backpack. But at least Ron Howard wasn't standing there.
And although I'm sore as hell today and walking kinda funny, I'm back. WE'RE back. Because I have a new favorite accessory now and I'm not afraid to rock it on the mountain-top... as soon as I can walk again... UM, yeah, maybe next week.