I have three of the prettiest butternut squash y'ever saw in your life. I'm not taking a picture because I'm lazy. I don't know what to do with them. IF YOU SAY a) soup or b) roast it, I'll be like, blah blah blah. I am thinking of being really really really ambitious and making ravioli. Don't quote me. I've been whipping up some serious brown butter sage sauce using the righteous sage from the garden and let me tell you ... butternut rav with some brown butter sage sauce with a dash of nutmeg will make you squeal.
I am pondering this because I am ready to move and I'm saying bye bye to the time I spend attending to aphids. I want to live somewhere really stylin'.
I am also bringing back adjectives from the '80s. I realize I'm a little late and we're currently revitalizing the '90s, but I do that via music, so permit me my lexical luxury. This brings us to quagmire
2. Where the hell should I live? I'm in LOVE with my city as y'all know. What you don't know is that I'm also in love with a man, to a degree, but he lives in Lima. I love L.A. more. I will not compromise. Therefore, logically (for I am more logical than you know - to some of you I seem emotional and I am that too), I must live in a home that I love, for I am more of a homebody than you know and I adore decor and I want to show off the furniture I commissioned in Mexico in 2003. Thus I am deciding:
a. Loft. Downtown, thick of it. Modern empty palette. Rooftop pool. PARKING.
b. Hancock Park/Fairfax/Larchmont. Clean yuppie walkable trees yuppie did I mention yuppie? Homey architecture.
c. Los Feliz. Walkable, trees, young, "hip."
d. Silverlake Reservoir area. Yuppie, not so walkable, hilly. Beautiful.
e. Koreatown BUT a historic building with a breathtaking loft and a view and dark wood and exposed brick and a residential area that is safe(r) and delicious, not gritty K-town. Been grit, done grit.
f. The absolute heart of Culver City.
g. Hollywood BUT SEE e.
h. Hypermodern amenities.
Times have changed. I am a grownup. I need parking. I have Mia now, my baby. I work on the west side of town. I need a dishwasher, more space. More light. No dog shit when I step outside. Fewer, far far fewer, barking dogs (mine don't bark, they're obedient, disciplined, loving, attended to). Peace, y'all. I'm out of Hi-Fi/Echo Park. Paid my dues.
By the time I buy, I have a feeling the Talking Heads will apply: "I've lived in a brownstone ... I've lived in a ghetto ... I've lived all over this town!"