It's the simple things

It's yet another extraordinary day in Los Angeles. The sun is shining, people are outside just for the sake of being outside. There is little traffic on the streets and I have to remind myself, often, that it's just January 18. Well, I suppose this day is not quite so extraordinary since days such as this occur quite so frequently, but...you can't help but wake up with a smile.

Things are truckin' along here in LA. It's been a booze-less weekend. I've switched my glasses of red wine with movies, lots of 'em. My roommate and I have taken a joy in running every single vegetable we can unearth from the depths of our fridge into the food processor, grinding them up into a sort of homemade gazpacho. One meant for summer days, before fish and barbecues, but it seems just right for now.

In fact, every thing seems just about right, right now. Roomie and I went to a bar last night for a going away party and ordered two soda waters. It was absolutely divine to open my eyes to my 7 a.m. alarm this morning and jump out of bed feeling good. Maybe there is something to this raw thing, eh? I met my friend in Griffith Park to hit golf balls. I showed up 30 minutes late. Not because I was running late but because I was confused by the vastness of the park; it's LA's very own Central Park. And it was a delight to be late, driving on the narrow, winding roads into the hills. They were lined with trees red and yellow and crisp. It's January, yet Los Angeles just seems to be catching up on autumn.

When I returned to Brentwood, I drove past my turn and was suddenly inspired to buy a new tree. I killed my former tree that inhabited my apartment; perhaps the young hearty thing wasn't so hearty. Or perhaps I just don't have a green thumb. Anyway, so I drove to the nursery down the street, just a few sunshiney blocks, and I met a guy there. Mid 40s, long, garish hair that looked like someone had cut it with their eyes closed. Not a guy to date but a Tree Man. I looked at Tree Man and told him, "I need your help. I need a tree."

"Well, we get new stock in on Thursdays. We might have better choices on Thursdays....or is this an instant gratification thing?"

I looked him straight in the eye. "I am set on bringing home a tree today. Instant."

I think he took a liking to the fact that I was so lost in the green house. He literally took my hand and led me through the winding green house. We spent a good 40 minutes--forty freakin' minutes!--picking out my tree. Of course I asked him far too many questions, something I get from my Dad. I wanted to know about sunlight. Trimming and pinching (did you know it's better to pinch a tree than trim?). I told him I wanted a pretty pot to put it in and we stepped outside, eventually, back into that gorgeous heavenly white sunlight, and together we stared at pots for another 20 minutes or so. He told me I was going to have to replant the tree into my new pot. I did a double take and then...shook my head.

"Plant? Nope."

"I could do it for you."

"That would be great. I'll pay you, of course."

"So you're a woman who doesn't like to get her hands dirty."

"That's right."

He showed me how to replant it. The mixing of soil and water. Told me to let it sit outside for a few days and give it a good water down. He seemed amused at my curiosity, my eagerness to learn, my unwilling nature to touch dirt.

"See, look here," Tree Man said. "See how I am loosening these roots? I wouldn't do it like you would, stomp on them with one of your stiletto heels. You seem to be that type. You don't want to shock the plant."

I ignored his comment about my footwear and then asked who I need to call and complain to in a week when my plant is shocked.

"Um....Emanuel," Tree Man said, looking at the Hispanic Dude behind the counter.

Anyway, now I have a beautiful new tree at home and there's something so cheerful about that.

And that is when it dawned on me. I don't think I need too much to be happy. This morning, when my friend and I finished hitting balls, we sat on a bench and stared out the beautiful hills and trees, just the vibrant green which surrounded us. I grabbed two little clementines from my golf bag and tossed one to him.

"I love the smell of these when you first open them," I said.

"Oh, me too. It's just so great."

"It makes me so happy."

He laughed. "The smell? It makes you happy?"

"Yeah, yeah it does."

And yeah, yeah it does. My tree makes me happy. My clementine makes me happy. I am happy to be at work now, not yet working, but listening to Pandora and taking care of my urge to write. I am happy my girlfriend out here bought a set of golf clubs and now I have a golfing friend who sucks at golf and lives close to me. I am happy that the veggies in the food processor tasted so fresh and good.

And that's just how it is.