On spring days in LA, I feel like I’ve married one of Shakespeare’s dreams (to borrow from the great Ogden Nash).
Tale of two cities: Office workers now turn up three days a week, but my gardener shows up in a cold rain. Plus, other random thoughts...
I’m having toast topped with peanut butter and honey right now. Obviously, I feel like I am winning at life. I give myself five Yelps.
I had one goal as a kid: To play for the Harlem Globetrotters.
Funny place, the South Bay. It always brings to mind – at least to me -- the Carl Hiaasen novel that opens with a young driver crashing while grooming her bikini line. "But officer..."
I’m hosting a weekend retreat. The guest list: Paul McCartney, Paul Simon, Elton John, Jimmy Webb and (of course) Bob Dylan. Their assignment: One more great song.
How would you sum up L.A.? You can’t. How would you sum up the Bible? How would you explain what the Dodgers mean to you? Or your kids? Or, most of all, your poker buddies?
On these radiant winter days, isn’t it fantastic to be so full of notions and passions and dreams that you don’t even know how to start?
With food, I prefer wine – red, white, unleaded, defrocked, doesn’t matter. Just so it’s a California wine, which tastes of sunscreen and Vitamin D and surfer girls and cinnamon.