Good things about Friday

First visit to the Inglewood Public Library. It is one of those old-fashioned sort of libraries that has more books than computers. Three floors of books. The non-fiction section is divided in half and the dewey decimels are also arranged alphabetically, somehow. A-P or Q is on one floor, and the rest is upstairs. Also, it is walking distance from the house, hallelujah. Being able to walk to a library is basically my first criteria in judging whether a city is livable. Inglewood is, surprisingly, livable. Jinx doesn't think so, though, as he is still MIAWOL and that is not my favorite thing to have happened since we got here. I was just thinking Jinx might be with me for a long time, I was imagining a future where Jinx gets old, cantankerous, and grayer than now, while Edie grows up beside him, all of us taking near daily walks around the neighborhood to watch insects and chase birds. Que Cera, Cera, maybe.

On the way home from the library, we set out to find a vegan restaurant rumoured to be hidden somewhere on Market Street, between abandoned storefront number one and abandoned storefront number two. Almost gave up, but then a door swung open and we were inside a cool, swank room, posh with stuffed chairs resembling thrones for a fairy court, shoe and purse strap sculpture on the wall, exotic plants, and jazz piped through a couple of well placed speakers. There were, to our surprise, people in there...eating. Up until then I had only seen Bruno's Chicken, Randy's Donuts, and GG's Soul Kitchen (WOOOO YOU ALMOST PASSED GG'S! SO DON'T COOK TONIGHT, COME ON IN! reads the sign), aside from the IHOP, Quizno's, and McDonald's right by our house. Kenneth and I had both figured Inglewood to be a vegan-business unfriendly place.

We approached the counter and noticed the sign saying that only cash would be accepted. We were still greeted warmly by the owner, Danielle, who gave us each a miniature sample taco. It was a perfect business maneuver, to give hungry newcomers a taste of vegan food, a taste of the restaurant, and a tiny feeling of owing her some business for the free tacos. Aside from the ease we slipped into from being out of the sun, fed for free, and delighted to find a nice place to eat in a down-and-out part of town, the food itself was completely mood-altering. The tiny housemade tortillas carried five times their weight in kale, carrots, almond cheese, wild whole grain rice, fresh corn salsa and guacamole, as well as some spicy orange dressing crawling over the top of the whole thing like the Very Hungry Caterpillar. Only three inches from end to end, and we waxed nostalgic about those tacos the whole way home.

"Remember how good those tacos were?"
"That was an amazing taco."
"Yeah, but remember?"
"Let's go back soon."
"Yeah we should go back there."
"Those tacos were really good."
"Seriously good."

Good tacos.