i never want to see another donut. or doughnut.
(Don't send me your answers. This is just a little way to expand your horizons. Honest.)
I had a very full day yesterday. I need today to recoup.
I set the alarm to get up early so I could drop my car off at the dealer's for its very first checkup (a year and a half after I got it). My car has a computer that figures out the best time for it to be checked, but since it had been so long, I decided just to take it in anyhow.
Darin arrived to get me. He said, "Wanna go by Krispy Kreme?"
We've been hearing about Krispy Kreme doughnuts for so long we were both very excited to see that they were actually moving into the neighborhood. Well, kind of into the neighborhood: Van Nuys, which is still a drive but not as far as La Habra (where is that?), the location of the other KK franchise in the Greater Los Angeles area (as of now). Not that we're big doughnut eaters, but we like to try any food that people have said is really good.
Of course, yesterday was the Grand Opening of the Krispy Kreme.
We drove out to Van Nuys--the store is at Van Nuys Blvd. and Sherman Way, for the interested--and discovered the mob scene: cops routing traffic, the gigantic snaking line of cars for the drive-through, hundreds of people in the line through the doors. Several news crews were there, live, on the scene, with breaking Krispy Kreme stories.
We got in the car line. It turned out to be a very long line. An hour and a half long, as a matter of fact. But once we'd committed, we were there. It would not have been a big win to get in the line to go in the doors: took just about as long.
The really incredible thing that I shouldn't be surprised by was that periodically a car would try to worm its way into the car line. As though the driver hadn't noticed this cordoned off line of cars. This long line of cars. There were enough cops and security guards around to dissuade line-jumpers from continuing with their plan.
Nota bene: don't try to jump the line in a town where every other driver is armed.
We kept pointing out to one another patrons who had the most doughnuts. Each long, thin box indicated one dozen. I think the winner was the lady who walked out with 8 dozen...closely followed by a man who was carrying another 8 dozen. I could understand how this could happen: after you've been in a long line, you begin to think you should get as many doughnuts as you can lay your hands on.
Darin kept his head though--we stuck to our dozen, which included 4 original doughnuts (light and fluffy glazed doughnuts), and a selection of other types. We made our order, we got our milk and coffee, we got our one thin box of a dozen doughnuts, we drove home.
Yes, it was a dreadful waste of time--we missed the FedEx guy at the house, and Darin found himself behind in finishing work for clients and they were just doughnuts after all, not mystical experiences--but we had fun anyhow. And now we've had fresh Krispy Kreme doughnuts.
Diane's tip (which is the same as every other KK rec you've ever heard): Get the original doughnut. They kick butt. The other doughnuts are good but pointless next to the original.
When we got home, the dealer called and said my car was ready to pick up. So Darin drove me back over and I got my car. (In addition, they gave me a choice of a perfect pink rose or a perfect coral rose to take with, just 'cause. "We're Mercedes, we can give away roses.") Then I stopped by Gelson's to buy some food for lunch.
I got home in just enough time to welcome Tamar and Damian, who trekked over the hill to visit moi. Damian was in heaven, finding new things to play with--he created the new game of putting all my individually wrapped mints in various places, such as: the tissue box, the couch, and different spots around the room. I suspect I'll find hidden mints for months to come.
Tamar and I talked about writing and maternity clothes. We discussed what makes for a satisfying rom-com (which is strange for me to talk about, having never written one). And the movie American Beauty (which she loved and I was left cold by). I discovered that I am not copacetic about the spills little boys make. I assume this will change, at least when it's my baby doing it. ("Isn't that the cutest thing?")
Fernando and Nancy arrived to pick up Darin and me as Tamar and Damian were leaving.
We drove over the hill and went to Le Colonial in Beverly Hills for dinner. It's French-Vietnamese and quite good. We had duck raviolis and lettuce cups filled with a mixture I didn't quite catch and lemongrass chicken and a sate (beef with green beans in a heavy sauce) and dry wok shrimps, which were superb. I was glad to go to this place--it was great.
There was even a dessert I thought I wouldn't get near but which I had several tastes of: the coconut tapioca pudding with macadamia nut brittle. Very tasty.
Reportedly the Vietnamese beer was good too but I didn't have any of that.
We came home and sacked out on the couch to watch Amistad, which was good and should have been better. It should have been cut by an hour. There were so many drags on the story. For example, there's just been this big exciting scene in which the Africans have won their case in front of a judge who's been bought and paid for by the opposition. Followed by a scene in which the leader of the Africans meets John Quincy Adams that is slow and draggy and boring.
Darin said, watching this scene, "Hasn't this Spielberg guy made movies before? Doesn't he know about pacing?"
Today I just have a headache.
The answer to Monday's question: The Ryder Cup is a match-play golfing meet--they dislike the term "competition"--played by teams from the US and Europe--evidently all the Europeans are on one team, which I find to be very strange, but hey, it's not my competition. The US won the Cup back (first time since 1993) this past weekend, but everyone's grumbling because the Americans were very enthusiastic in their celebrating (not at all sporting), and they started celebrating before the Europeans had finished their round, which has led to charges that the Americans are uncouth barbarians. (Yes, that again.) I think the charge that the Americans are honest is just as applicable, but I could be wrong.
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Copyright 1999 Diane Patterson
Send comments and questions to diane@spies.com