A subjective recap of last week's local news cycle.

Dutton's felt like a big "You Are Here" arrow, orienting me in my life.

Where do you start the conversation about a side effect like driving "while asleep?"

Members of the Dorothy Parker Society visited the Writers Guild West headquarters last month, determined to verify a rumor that the WGA harbored a hidden portrait of the writer.

Today is the one-year anniversary of the death of Cathy Seipp. Cathy and I knew each other as colleagues, as friends. As mothers. We both had daughters born in 1989, and before I met my husband in 1997, had for the most part raised them ourselves, on what we earned as freelancers. We didn't need to beat this point, but a point it was.

LAPL senior librarian Carolyn Kozo Cole and volunteers are pulling together photos that tell the history of Los Angeles' lost age as a manufacturing power. From tire plants to perfume factories, It's the historical record of "a beautiful subject," she says.

Yesterday, local history buffs and surfing enthusiasts gathered at Calvary Baptist Church in Santa Monica for a presentation on the history of the "Ink Well," a segregated beach in Santa Monica popular with African American Angelenos during the first half of the 20th century.

Peel off the layers of the "Love and Consequences" deception and there's an epic novel being written.

To editors in New York, black foster mothers in South Central are, naturally, called Big Mom. Little girls who’ve been sexually abused show up with blood on their panties. So Margaret Seltzer goes unquestioned.