Winter really agrees with the Valley. It's easy to forget that in mere months we'll be sweltering and damning the cruel fate that keeps us in the humid muck.
This week, however, is nearly perfect - a little crisp at times; at times a little warm. This is a desert, y'know - we should be having cold nights and temperate days this time of year. Funny how different the weather is just moments away, though. When I'm cycling up to the end of Reseda Blvd. at 7.30AM, it's a whole different climate, though it can go either way: sometimes it's ten degrees warmer, sometimes cooler. Then I go over the hill, as I am today. Sitting in my tiny Beverly Hills office, I'm looking at the blowing trees; it's been windy all day here, though it was calm in Encino when I left. I go out to move my car - no garage, no free parking, no fucking way at these prices - or grab a coffee and I need a jacket. The mobs in front of Pinkberry are in T shirts and skirts. Wherever they come from, it's gotta be colder, so this is a treat for them. Yogurt in February.