Why Baja Cantina server Todd Sondgroth left his job to go homeless in the bitter cold. (Bring Todd home!)

Most nights around 7:30pm, Todd Sondgroth is delivering plates of Guadalajara carnitas, Chalapas chimichangas and organic garden tamales to tables at Baja Cantina (625-2252) on Carmel Valley Road in Carmel. 

Most nights around 1am, he's getting off work and heading home to his girlfriend and her kids, who he adores.

Tonight at 7:30pm, he'll be getting into his tent in a discreet spot in the forest off Highway 68, trying to build on the two hours of sleep he's gotten in the last couple of nights, hoping he doesn't grow as "cold and paranoid" as he did last night. 

Tonight at 1am, he'll be thankful for the blanket and extra pair of socks he was given by strangers today as temperatures drop toward 40, and closer to freezing.

But he's less concerned with that number than another one, one that sits briefly at 7,616 as I publish this. 

That's the amount of dollars his voluntary homeless mission has raised.

He says he won't leave the streets—or return to work or communicate with his girlfriend—until it reaches $10,000.

My caustic colleague, local government watchdog Squid, broke news on his effort Monday morning:

The Carmel Valley resident is taking the moment's paralyzing frost to abandon his toasty home, girlfriend, job and reason, all to live on the street. He carried no food, water or money as he left warmth and shelter. All he took with him: 1) a backpack, 2) a cell phone for posting twice daily to Facebook and talking to media and 3) a desire to raise $10,000 for local homeless shelters.

"I’m doing this because 1 in 4 kids in the Salinas School District [is] homeless," he emailed last night. "I’m doing this to change hearts (I believe if you can change a heart, you can change the world)."

Squid tolerates kids, even likes a few of them when they're quiet. But this is no time for hero work from Squid. It's time for Squid and Squid's cold, three-chambered heart to slink back into a cocoon of covers with hot chocolate and fresh-baked cookies, not onto a bone-cold park bench with hypothermia and freshly developed frostbite.

Since then Sondgroth's appeared on local TV twice. His at-times inspiring, at-times evangelical and at-times over-the-top video—which is always earnest and heartfelt—has collected hundreds of views and hundreds more Facebook shares. 

He, meanwhile, has collected donations of spare change. And experience.

"I feel exactly what they're going through," he says. "There's a whole host of things I'm learning." 

The biggest surprise: the interactions with others.

"I'm saying, 'How are you?' 'Good day.' People are walking the other way, not even addressing you. It's inhumane—and hard to develop any confidence or positive momentum—the way they're getting treated." 

He's says the time outside has started to grate on him but it's worth it.

"My soft spot is the homeless children," he says. "But I also want to share a sense of unity and power with the people: Let them know and show them they have the potential or the resources to create change. You have a voice, you have a network, family and friends. You can start a conversation." 

I called over to Baja at 7:30pm.  Baja manager Nate Dalton paused during the peak of the night's dinner service to talk.

"When I first met him that's all he was talking about," Dalton says. "We're missing him a little bit, but we can't be mad at him for having such a good cause and looking out for others."

Follow Sondgroth on Facebook and check out his video pledge pitch at “Bring Todd Home” on Indiegogo.