Serendipity in Los Feliz.

Tonight after work, I took my watch to get fixed at the home of a charming, grandfatherly Bulgarian/Armenian watchmaker. He was kicked out of his shop after 23 years, along with all the other tenants (to make room for a giant new Hollywood nightclub, I suspect), and is mending watches on his balcony in Los Feliz while he looks around for a new shop.

As soon as I stepped into his cozy apartment, his wife Mary asked if I'd had dinner. Whatever was cooking smelled divine. I sat down, their grandson brought me a cold Corona, and I ate Lebanese flatbreads covered in ground meat, tomatoes and parsley, drizzled with fresh-squeezed lemon juice. Never mind that I don't usually eat meat. My new friends were kind and hospitable and I wasn't about to say no. (Was it lamb? Don't ask, don't tell! Anyway, it was yummy.) We talked about our travels as we ate, then we went out onto the balcony and Mr. Haig took apart my watch.

While he tinkered, he talked about how lucky he is to live so close to his kids and grandkids, and what it was like to leave his country during the Communist era and make a new life somewhere else. Then he looked straight at me and said, "It's very hard to build your life. You have to have power. You need to have someone behind you."

Wow. It was as if suddenly a celestial messenger were speaking directly to my own roiling personal angst. I felt a blinding awareness, like connecting with the source of all wisdom and compassion. Did he have any idea how much I needed to hear those words?

Then he offered me Turkish Delight, rose and orange-flavored, and Mary brought out strong, sweet Armenian coffee and her own homemade pastry. So much for my sugar fast! But if there was ever a reason to break it, this was it.