...it just means I need time for myself.

It's a wide open open weekend.

I live in Los Angeles, one of the most exciting, glamorous cities on the planet.

The options of leisurely weekend activities are nearly endless. I could drive to the beach or to the snow in equal amounts of time.

I could shop at world-class boutiques in Beverly Hills.

There are parks, and activities. The bird migration is in full swing. I like my birds.

There is always a food-festival somewhere. Be it Latin flavors in East L.A., or some other event in Little Tokyo, Korea Town, or the traditionally Russian areas of West Hollywood. I could go to my local Buddhist Temple where the sell excellent Thai street food for almost nothing (just remember to take your shoes off when you go inside)!

Wings are messy, and that's a good thing.

Wings remind us that it's okay to be a carnivore. They remind us of a simpler time sitting around the cave with that trendy new cooking device someone cleverly named "fire". Remember how proud you were to be the first neanderthal on the block with an indoor inferno?

But there is more to wings than primitive domination of lesser creatures. Wings have more modern pleasures as well. Wings make it okay to dribble hot sauce all over those brand new $245 jeans. Because stains only make them better, right?

Wings make kids and grandmas alike stick their face in their food and giggle while we eat.

But the best thing about wings is the way you feel after you have devoured an entire plate full. No need to feel guilty in overindulgence. Because bragging rights are the best part about eating wings. Not only is it cool to pig out on wings. It's a badge of honor. Eating 4 or 5 wings may fill you up, but eating 20 or 30 moves you to the head of the table; often to rowdy cheers, chants, hoots and hollars!

Meatballs make me laugh! You have to be "of a certain age" to laugh at meatballs. So I wish I didn't laugh out loud at the thought of Chicken Meatballs with Artichokes & Carrots because I hate it when I date myself.

But damnit I miss Bill Murray.

And I don't mean the middle-aged Bill Murray, who has enjoyed a career renaissance playing forlorn cool characters in meaty independent films. Nope I mean the laugh-out-loud Bill Murray. The Saturday Night Live Bill Murray. The iconic comic genius who brightened my world from 1979 to 1993 in a string of movies that Hollywood just wouldn't find funny anymore.

For those of you who don't remember 1979, it was a very good year. Sure I was struggling through an awkward adolescence. But so was Bill Murray and he was nearly 30! That certainly made a geek like me feel like the world wouldn't end. Because 1979 was a year that launched Murray's film career with the movie, Meatballs. In it Murray plays Tripper, the zany head counselor at Camp North Star. Basically, the movie revolves around the pernicious Tripper putting the moves on a curvy fellow counselor, harassing the camp's boss, and befriending a lonesome boy. There's also some shenanigans involving the teen-aged counselors in training and some spirited pranks with a neighboring, well-to-do camp. But for all of its ribald fun, Meatballs at its heart is a sweet movie that warms the heart without being disingenuous, saccharine, or just plain stupid.

Movies can't seem to do that anymore and I don't know why.

So here I am stuck at home laughing into a plate of Chicken Meatballs with Artichokes & Carrots missing Bill Murray.