SoCal Office of the Day

Throughout my adult life I have been a complete failure at keeping my dependence on or to any one thing,  location, or item limited.  From my Ecco shoes to my button-fly Levi's I discovered a few years ago that I had habituated all the corners of my life. Living most of our days in the arena of global adventure this was something that I was either going to suffer through.....or conquer.
First came the socks.
For years I had worn only one brand of socks marketed by REI. Thick, white and durable these babies seemed to never wear out and worked with boots or walkers. Last year they suddenly became unavailable and in-spite of my attempts to locate them...they were not to be had. Finally forced to take the plunge into those I could find in the pazar in Istanbul I discovered that change...was not as evil as I had expected. Next came underwear, shirts and so on. Eventually I had overcome the sense of security that bites into the comfort of the habiliments of travel and living abroad. I also learned that my Ann had the ability to flow with the current of what was available and adapt to it seamlessly.
Trying to find a place clear of distraction to compose my chaotic chronicles became a search for solitude...it seemed that no matter how hard I worked to find my niche in which to write, no place, especially in our little corner of Asia, was consistently quiet. This led me to an unusual location in which I found the solace to scribble. A little cafe named Cemre Kebap about two minutes of walking away. All it took was a few minutes of greetings...the ordering of çay, and the owners, who have since become part of our Istanbulu family, left me to my cup and contemplations.
They even went to the lengths of reserving a corner table for me. In the summer my little office is on a shaded terrace where I can see the busiest street in Istanbul from behind a hedge of hydrangeas. In the winter it is next to a large wall heater that you could fry an egg on and shoved deep into the corner of the busy cafe.
My hosts, Ibrahim and Fikret keep the tea coming and allow me to sink into my thoughts. When the terror of a blank page taunts me for too long...they have the uncanny timing of calling me to the owner's table and feeding me...a technique that doesn't always work for a struggling writer...but sure adds to my epicurean appreciation.
Outside of Istanbul I struggle to find that same ambience that stokes the flames of prolixity...I have had to once again adapt my slow-wittedness to the environs in which I expound on the small stuff of our lives. Which is why today's posting is special. Today's office found me, on a backyard swing, with an empty fire pit that was soon roaring with the last of our wood. A rich cup of coffee from a Dutch Bros. press and an hour or two of plunking away at a column few will read. No finer office can be found in the county.