It’s August here in Los Angeles. It’s very very hot. Too hot for clothes, too hot for much of anything. Normally I hate it when it’s so hot, but fourteen years here must have done something to me. I’m getting used to it. Yesterday I spent about an hour in my friend’s garden and it was just one of those magical times when I thought, oh. This is why people move here. Lemon trees, pepper trees, all sorts of trees, and lots of veggies, radishes, lettuces, pretty much anything you want. They eat food fresh from their garden every night of the week. I want to live there. Not in their house, although that’s very nice too, but in the garden. With the green things. Beautiful.