It might be Autumn but it is relentlessly hot. The phone will not stop ringing, abuzz with people wanting to know my opinion on candidates, propositions and what I think of our current healthcare system. Sometimes I indulge them, knowing I will most likely end up working the phone banks for Hillary Clinton, and how much I will appreciate kindness on the other end of the line. But November 8 can’t come soon enough.
Month: September 2016
If you have lived in Los Angeles all your life, or just a very long time like me, it is easy to become complacent and fall into the same routines, even when it comes to our free time.
Traffic can be so chaotic it’s easy to stick to what is happening around where we live, but LA, like all large metropolis, is a bottomless pit of opportunities.
My mother’s aunt was a tiny speck of a woman who presided over a large household, with six children, a husband, and various single relatives who all dined at her table. The family of landowners was a pleasant and eclectic mixture of farmers and intellectuals: antique books in the attic and large plots of lands mainly devoted to fruit.
Years ago, while interviewing candidates for a pastry cook position, I ended up hiring a woman older than me. She was fresh out of cooking school and was looking for her first job in order to build a resume. To me, it was a no brainer. I knew she would be reliable, committed and with sound judgment – what she might have lacked in stamina (kitchen work is physically demanding) she would make up in work ethics.