It wasn't easy, but over the weekend that I became a Jew. Can you imagine me going to the little San Diego store-front synagogue the entire weekend: two times Saturday and once on Sunday. Yet in order to pray, your mind needs soul foods. So I need to mind what I eat.
Once a week, I breakfast at the Scripp's Mercy Hospital. It is San Diego's oldest and can be found in the University area of San Diego off of Washington Blvd. Before I before I describe the choicest of all menus, let me drive you there.
My car is always parked at the Old Town commuter lot. As long as you move it every twenty four hours, you can park all-day-free and safely.
From Old Town, I travel south on the Pacific Coast Highway. Keep to the right or you'll end up on the 5 on-ramp. The next light is Washington. At the first light go left and cross the tracks. You may gas-up at the Mobile Station to the right. Go up a steep rickety hill up to the Hillscrest area. The tall hospital is a few streets after Ralph's and Albertson's.
After you park your car, enter and follow the signs to the cafeteria. Breakfast time is between six thirty and ten o'clock. You turn left from the corridor and take a peek at an assortment of fried spinach, greens, scrambled eggs, lean bacon, and various nuts. Several types of bread are to the right, or if you prefer, you can choose from a large assortment of bagels and rolls. ( I park inside their disabled lot.)
Somehow, the spinach gave the rest of the meal the wallop I sorely needed. It must have been the way the vegetable made the the other vegetables taste better.
Most of the doctors hover over the hot oat meal. They apply lots of nuts and small fruits inside to hide the rough taste. But for me I can't wait to munch on my spinach leaves. Inside my mouth, it evaporates. My body jumps into overdrive.
There are five types of coffee, but today, I allow the spinach to provide my lift. I also place some walnuts and dried fruit into a cup and go to the register.
"Can you place the cup on the scale...Thank you...That will be three dollars and thirty two cents.."
The strong coffee is one dollar and sixty cents, so that is why my bill is less than four dollars.
Now I eat and edit my manuscript. At about eight o'clock, I bus my dishes and leave to the hospital library. Bet you didn't know the Mercy had one? I read the New York Times and their local paper. The good food and clean air are just what the doctor had ordered. And believe it or not, they have an internet.
Featured in the UT Newspaper is the life of Tony Gwynn. Like me, he is remembered not for what he did on the field, but the manner in way he giggled. The Padre manager mentioned you could hear his laugh from harbor to sea. But apparently what struck him out was not a baseball, but chewing tobacco.
Well, I got to go now. I need to return my car to the commuter lot and take the Green Line Trolley to the library. That is where I am now, on the computer telling my story to you.
(The number 10 bus drops you off in front of the library. You can pick up the number at the Old Town Transit Station.)
Today the 13th of October, I met the Chef Cindy in back of the counter while I ordered the spinach and scrabbled eggs minus the bacon. It was about seven o'clock and I came to visit Sam the Taxi man who was run over by a truck in Mexico.
"I want you to know that your breakfast is the finest in all of Southern California. Here is my card...And the Pepper Steak I had last night was superb."
The maiden took my card and smiled "Why thank you for placing it into my blog."
I told her where to find Sam the Taxi man and took my three dollar tray to the cashier.
In fact th
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