So over the past 1 1/2 months I’ve had a strange life twist.
Every Monday I wake up at (egad) 4:40, climb out of bed, get dressed and drive up to Santa Monica, where I’m working as a writer for “Fair Game,” the Kristine Leahy Show.
It’s a long story how this all transpired, but in short: I wanted to try writing for a different medium, I had appeared as a guest on the program, it seemed like a fun/quirky idea, thus far I love it, etc … etc.
Anyhow, even though I don’t arrive until 9:30, leaving at 5 allows me to avoid sitting in 2 1/2 hours of traffic. So I get here early, pull to the side of a road, nap in my car for 30 minutes or so, then rise and eat the absolute greatest fucking oatmeal that’s ever existed on the face of the earth.
I’m not exaggerating.
It’s served at a tiny cafe called LoCal Coffee and Market, a charming joint with very little seating, a bathroom key attached to a mug, fantastic music, delicious drinks and—again—oatmeal created via another level of culinary consciousness. I’m not entirely sure of all the ingredients, but it includes multiple fruits, milk and this granola that oozes flavor. I actually just joked to the two baristas that, should my job end, I’ll still make the 5 am drive, gobble my oatmeal and head back home.
Which isn’t that big of a stretch.
So good.
