and the livin' is easy
I like my perch.
Cerb and I are sitting in a pool of late-afternoon sun, looking out at the world through the glass walls of the solarium. You can view the very circulation system of the city from these windows - it's Los Angeles reimagined as an animated film about the body.
The roads wound tightly around below us flow with red-blood-cell cars and white-blood-cell emergency vehicles, surging down artery-freeways and chugging along cappilary-surface-streets, effeciently depositing people and things into the office buildings, construction sites, schools, and stores that fill the space between the accessways. From these big windows, the whole system is on fascinating display. It's a tireless source of interest, watching the rhythm of this funny organism we're living in; you can set a watch to the flow of freeways...if there are people pouring in or out or around the surrounding buildings...the shape and opacity of the gauzy haze-blanket that falls over the faraway crest.
There's a red sparking shiraz chilling in the fridge, and fresh-made, toothsome english-muffin bread. I'm thrilling to the prospect of getting up to my elbows in the rich bounty of a southern California summer; though I'm quite enthusiastic about exploring the pantheon of restaurants that graces our environs, I've been habitually handing over more than my rent each month to the retaurant industry. It's time to get back to farmers' markets and bread-making and - for I will certainly devise some way to do it - growing my own herbs in these big, sunny windows. It's time for stone fruits and honey-drizzled goat cheese, and my signature sangria, and the creamy, green crispness of a handmade shrimp-avocado-endive salad.
I feel ready for a lot of things. I'm ready to start checking off my list - and now, I've got the legs under me to tackle it rightly.