On Walking the Dog... in which we visit Ventura Blvd.

It's always on my mind. How to increase my exercise.

It's a weak point for my program... with the weather turning cold and health issues even before that, I'm a little afraid to get out and do things. But Lucy really tried to have us push on physical activity ("PA" in HMR terms) and since I'm very suggestable, I'm thinking about it.

Yet another factor played into my decision to brave it and take the boys out. They're getting old and arthritic. I can really tell these days, especially when a weather front is coming in. And since I know that PA helps alleviate the symptoms of old bones rubbing on old bones, my decision was made. We're going out.

It's not as easy as that, though. Since Cosmos is so much more severely affected than Sunny, it's imperative that I take them separately. And since I get bored easily with the same route, I'm finding myself starting to vary the terrain that we walk.

Yesterday, I decided to walk Sunny down to Ventura Blvd. to the "Jungle Walk" district. We start out by going through a small section of residential housing. Christmas decorations are starting to go up. At this one house, it looks like it was a bad day for Santa. He's a little deflated.



Round the corner and we come to Ventura. Where I first find the most gawd-awful resturant in the entire world.



It's so funny... I used to live for McDonalds. Egg McSausage. French Fries. But now, just the smell makes me nauseous.

Then, it's California Pizza Kitchen. I love them. They will make their salads with an appropriate small amount of dressing with a minimal amount of begging on my part. I do not like salads where the theme is "maybe add a little salad with my dressing."




Up the street and it's "Cookies By Design. I'm always intrigued by the displays in their window, even as I have never sampled their fare. I'm sure it must not taste all that great (I must try to keep repeating that until I believe it), but it sure is cute. And check out the timely cookie boquet. Perfect to remind me that I'm exercising, not looking for a meal.



Now, into Tarzana proper. Tarzana actually WAS named for Tarzan. Burroughs lived here when he wrote the series. And to commerate that small factlet, Tarzana has named it's most fashionable shopping district (and actually, it really IS cute) "The Jungle Walk." Jungle animals festoon the public trash cans on the street.



Girrafes mix in with the follige.



Behind this particular giraffe is "Sushi Iki." I always figured that with a name like "Sushi Iki," it's got to be good. So imagine my surprise when Elena and I, one day, finally tried it. The sushi was ok... not great but ok. But the bill? Over $100 dollars!!!!!!! That's one restaurant that we will not be hurrying back to.



Have I mentioned that even the light polls are decorated with jungle animals?



And here are the cutest boots! I don't need them... truthfully, I don't even want them. What would I wear them with? But I love them all the same. With all my heart and soul.



Two Kosher Chicks own "Kosher Chicks." Great chicken!



Here is one of my favorite stores... Adventure 16! Cool clothing, fabulous shoes. And outdoor gear for the serious outsdoorsman. And me. Because some of the stuff in there really makes me laugh.

And, by the way, they don't mind if dogs come in and visit. They also don't mind if I stop in to use the bathroom.




Sunny is absolutely intrigued by "The Rock." It's a British Pub in my neighborhood. Catering to the 30-something crowd, they keep their front door open in the evenings. When we walk by, all my dog wants to do is run inside to check it out.

Me to Sunny: You can't go in there. You're not 21.

Patron standing on the sidewalk to me: Well, actually, in dog years, he is 21, isn't he?

Me to Patron: Shut up. I don't want him to know that he doesn't have any money.



Next door to 'The Rock' is "El Patron." A Mexican Restaurant.



I would really like to try "El Patron" out. It's not that I have any expectations that the food is good, because I don't. That location used to be "The Market Broiler," a seafood restaurant that catered to the geriactric crowd. I mean seriously OLD. It shut down a few years ago and the shell of the restaurant stood there empty for a couple of them.

Then, about a year and a half ago, El Patron suddenly sprung up in it's place. And who goes there? The same ol' old folks that went there before. I just know that the newer restaurant has to be as horrible as the older one, but I"m curious. And one of these days, I'm going to scratch that itch.



In the meantime, my dog is old. And because he is old, there is nothing he likes better to do when we walk by El Patron than to scrounge through the bushes. You never know when you might find an old burrito.