Weekend heartwarmers

materialized in the framework of an excursion to a neighboring flea market's debut,to which we were benevolently bequeathed VIP passes from the powers that bein exchange for an extensively disseminated publicity story to be deftly crafted by the dear media-savvy friend herself.
I am propelled to lament: 'tis not a flea rife with the envisioned bounty of time-honored knick knacks, as expectantly flaunted at my habitual haunts,
though I dare not wager that the LA Flea Market was wholly devoid of tried and true antiquities,
even if honest to goodness vintage curios were more difficult to unearth whilst navigating
the sea of quality-defunct swap meet style oddities.'Twas more reminiscent of a telltale tourist trap in that aspect, especially with live tunes blaring
tangent to a fenced in watering hole for bougie characters,
and a chromatic line-up of the current yet transient Los Angeles fad
that is redefining culinary convenience - extravagance-brandishing food trucks.
Nevertheless, chuck into the mix copious sunbeams and concentrated bonding time against a breath-stealing backdrop of the cityscape, and your heart shall be warmed like fresh-baked cupcakes downed with an icy glass o' milk.
Speaking of moo juice, the promenade lingered with an impromptu stopover at the Mid-City based bakery phenomenon named after the quintessential dessert complement, Milk,
for the mold-defying concoction of macaron ice cream sandwiches dunked in decadent chocolate.
Though I've devoured heaps of Milk's mouthwatering masterpieces, 'twas my first time sampling the heralded ice cream sandwiches. Ladies and gents, I'm in love.
'Tis times like these that I cannot help but to be convinced that God is so good to allow for such blessed and undeserved reveries in life's brouhaha.