Jen happened to be traveling through L.A., so I took Monday off to hang out. I rarely venture over to the westside, so I thought we could spend the day over there. We had breakfast and a Spanish latte at Urth Caffe in Santa Monica, which Jen had heard of because the mom in the “Teenage Paparazzo” documentary talked about going there. Then we drove up Pacific Coast Highway for a visit to the Getty Villa, which I’d never been to. The galleries were stuffed with elaborate Grecian urns, Roman busts and Cypriot fertility figures. The strangest items were plates and drinking vessels from the original Greek frat parties: there were literally scenes of guys vomiting. The villa also had a rare mummy from Roman Egypt that had an ibis tucked into its midsection. Under a foggy marine layer, we wandered among the pomegranate and olive trees in the outer peristyle. We could barely make out the ocean as we sat on a deck at the villa, so I was surprised when Bryan told me over the phone that it was 10 degrees warmer in Eagle Rock. So the sun was shining, just 20 miles away from us.