I took off my purple suede boots and shook out the Birkenstocks.  I’m in LA.  There are piles of ripe avocados that people buy like creamy candy and bran muffins the size of a small Volkswagon.  I like it out here.  It’s sunny.  People are friendly–of course they have the advantage of not having to wear a belaklava–and seem very happy to have the day in front of them to live.  In New York, it’s more of a clawing up the wall of the day with a coffee habit feeling and a panic to be as productive as possible before the sun goes down again.

And I like that too.

But how do you cook when you get off the plane?  Dinner could easily drift into next week somewhere from over relaxing.  Which is not necessarily a problem.  I could just stick to the snacks.  Short and tidy lists at the grocery store that you don’t even have to write down.  Chunks of avocados with a squeeze of stolen lemons from the drugstore’s lemon tree and a pinch of salt.  Fat and juicy oranges with slivers of green onions and toasted walnuts.  Spicy corn salad with some of those crazy tiny peppers that you have to wear gloves to cut, a little olive oil, lime juice, cumin and fresh cilantro.  Or hot yellow grits with a cozy fried egg nestled in the top and a pile of garlicky tomatoes to make it call to your fork.  I’m going to buy myself a t-shirt and I’m going to remember to smile.