It's all the simple stuff, really -- the walks, the moonlit nights, the pancakes. When you inhale up here, it’s so much better. When you exhale, it smells like pine.
Month: January 2022
A Steamy Soup
I see soups as tiny prayers. Were I a Campbell’s exec, I’d create new genres of soup. Soups for lovers. Soups for sports fans. Christmas soups. Summer soups. Soups for a crisp autumn day.
As you may know, I come from very humble beginnings. I was born in a DMV line in Woodstock, Illinois.
Hey, Skiing: I Quit
Farewell, you painful, overpriced sport. I'd rather be tied to a horse and dragged through the Century City Mall than put on one more pair of rental ski boots.
California’s Magic Castle
These mountains always fluff me up. I come out of the Eastern Sierra like a big load of cotton sheets, warm and smelling of French butter.
The Soup Spoon
I'm taking the tree trunk to my pal Serdar, who turns Christmas stumps into soup spoons and other keepsakes -- ornaments, baseball bats, pestles, nose rings, whatever.
When You’re Smiling…
With Christmas, as with LA, there’s such a fine line between good and evil. Like some sort of cotton candy fence.
College football's brand should be based right here, in the shadow of these stained-glass mountains, where every Jan. 1 the drum lines flail and the angels cheer.
The Year in Review
Psssssst, here’s America’s dirty little secret: There is no record of anyone ever keeping a New Year’s resolution.