July 25: Today, we saw two Bernese Mountain Dog puppies that were so excited to meet Addie that they dragged the bench they were attached to about ten feet before their owners saw them through the restaurant window and ran outside to stop them.
July 26: The sign posted by the San Francisco Police Department suggested that in order to prevent theft, we should follow the following steps: lock your car, take your keys, hide your belongings, and fill a decoy purse with thousands of angry, poisonous bees.
July 27: There was a guy two rows behind us who yelled “I’ve got it!” after every hit, regardless of where the ball actually went. It went on the whole night and it was impossible to tell if he was doing it for all the people who arrived to their seats late or because he thought it was that fun every time. Either way, I can’t picture him being invited to games by the same person twice.
July 28: There were three types of execution coin-operated mechanical devices at Musee Mecanique. There was a French one, an English one, and a just plain execution one. They all had different settings, but all involved doors opening to a building and watching a tiny, wooden man be hanged before the doors swung shut again.
July 29: Nick ran about 45 miles before I even got out of bed this morning, so who is the real winner here?
July 30: Whenever she went to go visit them, they were kind for a brief moment while they said hello in the doorway and Matt was still at her side. But their attitude soured almost immediately after shaking her hand, as if they were expecting her to slip them a twenty and she had stiffed them once again.
July 31: Nick asked me multiple times if I fed the dogs. I told him that I did and was absolutely positive about it. A few minutes later, Addie vomited up her partly digested dinner.
“See? Told you I did it.”
much love,
hedgie
Tuesday, July 31, 2018
Tuesday, July 24, 2018
swagger
July 17: Sabrina called it “The Reckoning”. She didn’t mean to scare Olivia with it, but she did. It was the time in Olivia’s life when Saturn was returning to the spot it was when she was born. It takes 29.5 years, and when it does this, the person is supposed to enter the next phase of their lives. It’s a make it or break it stage. Olivia was not a big believer in astrology, but Sabrina couldn’t get enough of it. When she was introduced to people, she would forget their names, but remember their birthdays for years afterwards. While shopping for prom dresses, Sabrina once watched her friend admire herself in a red, backless dress in the store’s mirror. She smiled knowingly and whispered, “Such a libra.”
July 18: At around three in the morning, a man went around the dark street screaming ‘fuck you’ at nothing and throwing our trashcans as far across the street as he could.
July 19: An older man stood in my path as I walked the dogs. He pointed a shaking finger and George and smiled. “That dog walks with swagger.”
July 20: I was put in charge of the spin art station. I would fit the cardboard stock into place and have the kids choose their colors before I closed the lids and turned on the spin feature. The kids would so carefully layer bright colors in the center, but just at the end, squeeze a bottle too hard and coat the entire thing in blue and have to start the process over again.
July 21: Koa was dropped off for the weekend. I went through his travel bag and arranged his things on the kitchen table to take inventory. There was a bag of his dog food, a smaller bag of meat-free treats, two stiffed animals, and an inflatable vest. In case we went sailing on Saturday?
July 22: For a week, I thought the apartment next door had been infiltrated by a rat or a raccoon. There was always skittering sound paired with a dragging one, which made me think it was something small and low-slung. Turns out that its the new neighbors’ pug that is mostly blind and has leg problems.
July 23: In a solitary setting, I feel free to let my mind wander. The vast majority of my ideas come from when I am alone and think about how the urban legend of cow tipping started. It allows my mind to wonder “what ifs” without restraints like what if a child’s pet dies and their parent isn’t ready to discuss death? Being alone with my thoughts churns up old memories, such as the last time I saw my grandfather. I also get the majority of my writing done alone, where I can focus solely on words and ideas. My co-workers and I meet weekly to brainstorm everything from ideas for electives to dealing with overaggressive ICE agents. I love seeing the way people interact and what they are passionate about. I am inspired by the way other people’s minds work. It also feels good when I can give out advice that can help someone add a little silliness to their lesson or avoid learning things the hard way. We all have different strong points that make us stronger together. Our jobs can also be very stressful. We share our fears and struggles that come up with our work. Sometimes just being in a room full of people in the same situation is enough to make all of us feel strong enough to continue.
July 24: I was happy before The Library Book. I loved my job and knew what I wanted. Now I want to quit my job and become a librarian.
much love,
hedgie
July 18: At around three in the morning, a man went around the dark street screaming ‘fuck you’ at nothing and throwing our trashcans as far across the street as he could.
July 19: An older man stood in my path as I walked the dogs. He pointed a shaking finger and George and smiled. “That dog walks with swagger.”
July 20: I was put in charge of the spin art station. I would fit the cardboard stock into place and have the kids choose their colors before I closed the lids and turned on the spin feature. The kids would so carefully layer bright colors in the center, but just at the end, squeeze a bottle too hard and coat the entire thing in blue and have to start the process over again.
July 21: Koa was dropped off for the weekend. I went through his travel bag and arranged his things on the kitchen table to take inventory. There was a bag of his dog food, a smaller bag of meat-free treats, two stiffed animals, and an inflatable vest. In case we went sailing on Saturday?
July 22: For a week, I thought the apartment next door had been infiltrated by a rat or a raccoon. There was always skittering sound paired with a dragging one, which made me think it was something small and low-slung. Turns out that its the new neighbors’ pug that is mostly blind and has leg problems.
July 23: In a solitary setting, I feel free to let my mind wander. The vast majority of my ideas come from when I am alone and think about how the urban legend of cow tipping started. It allows my mind to wonder “what ifs” without restraints like what if a child’s pet dies and their parent isn’t ready to discuss death? Being alone with my thoughts churns up old memories, such as the last time I saw my grandfather. I also get the majority of my writing done alone, where I can focus solely on words and ideas. My co-workers and I meet weekly to brainstorm everything from ideas for electives to dealing with overaggressive ICE agents. I love seeing the way people interact and what they are passionate about. I am inspired by the way other people’s minds work. It also feels good when I can give out advice that can help someone add a little silliness to their lesson or avoid learning things the hard way. We all have different strong points that make us stronger together. Our jobs can also be very stressful. We share our fears and struggles that come up with our work. Sometimes just being in a room full of people in the same situation is enough to make all of us feel strong enough to continue.
July 24: I was happy before The Library Book. I loved my job and knew what I wanted. Now I want to quit my job and become a librarian.
much love,
hedgie
Monday, July 16, 2018
all-alaskan racing pigs
July 9: Raven and I were disappointed to see the lack of sentence-long titles in the romance section of Barnes & Noble. We gave up trying to find the silliest sounding title and took a break in the cafe where we brainstormed name ideas for her proposed Etsy store and a girl at the next table did five minute sketches of our poses.
July 10: I have learned to sleep through garbage trucks, school bells, and angry people picking fights with a mailbox dropbox. But in the suburbs, I had trouble falling asleep here because it is too quiet. I woke up in the middle of the night and was unable to drift back to sleep because the silence felt so empty, like I was completely alone in the dark stillness.
July 11: We took all the dogs out for a walk and one block of the sidewalk was suddenly infested wit the most amount of cockroaches I had ever seen in my life. We yanked on the dogs’ leashes and urged them forward. We took quick steps to get out of there and hoped that whatever crunch we felt under our feet were just berries from the trees around us.
July 12: Heidi spent weeks picking and drying saffron during her time in Italy, but had never eaten any because of how expensive it is. We made a full dinner using saffron in everything and it took two days for me to convince her to just try one piece by itself to see what it tasted like.
July 13: We sat around the living room table playing tv show theme songs and trying to see who could recognize it the fastest. It did not work out as well as I had hoped when I played the theme to Bill Nye the Science Guy.
July 14: The All-Alaskan racing pigs were surprisingly graceful as they ran around the sawdust track. When they leapt over the hurdles, their legs stretched out and their ears tucked behind their heads to make them more aerodynamic like expertly folded paper airplanes.
July 15: Carl Baldwin was barefoot as he led us around The Velveteria. The velvet paintings ranged from the expected unicorns and sad clowns to truly beautiful portraits of backlit women and an Egyptian sarcophagus. There was an Elvis corner, a wall of freaks, a blacklight room, a room full of naked women, and a bathroom filled with paintings of various political figures on the John.
July 16: We listened to Eddie Izzard’s autobiography on the drive back to San Francisco. It was like having a really chatty friend in the backseat that wouldn’t let us get a word into the conversation.
much love,
hedgie
July 10: I have learned to sleep through garbage trucks, school bells, and angry people picking fights with a mailbox dropbox. But in the suburbs, I had trouble falling asleep here because it is too quiet. I woke up in the middle of the night and was unable to drift back to sleep because the silence felt so empty, like I was completely alone in the dark stillness.
July 11: We took all the dogs out for a walk and one block of the sidewalk was suddenly infested wit the most amount of cockroaches I had ever seen in my life. We yanked on the dogs’ leashes and urged them forward. We took quick steps to get out of there and hoped that whatever crunch we felt under our feet were just berries from the trees around us.
July 12: Heidi spent weeks picking and drying saffron during her time in Italy, but had never eaten any because of how expensive it is. We made a full dinner using saffron in everything and it took two days for me to convince her to just try one piece by itself to see what it tasted like.
July 13: We sat around the living room table playing tv show theme songs and trying to see who could recognize it the fastest. It did not work out as well as I had hoped when I played the theme to Bill Nye the Science Guy.
July 14: The All-Alaskan racing pigs were surprisingly graceful as they ran around the sawdust track. When they leapt over the hurdles, their legs stretched out and their ears tucked behind their heads to make them more aerodynamic like expertly folded paper airplanes.
July 15: Carl Baldwin was barefoot as he led us around The Velveteria. The velvet paintings ranged from the expected unicorns and sad clowns to truly beautiful portraits of backlit women and an Egyptian sarcophagus. There was an Elvis corner, a wall of freaks, a blacklight room, a room full of naked women, and a bathroom filled with paintings of various political figures on the John.
July 16: We listened to Eddie Izzard’s autobiography on the drive back to San Francisco. It was like having a really chatty friend in the backseat that wouldn’t let us get a word into the conversation.
much love,
hedgie
Sunday, July 8, 2018
vital organs and serial killers
July 1: I closed the car door in San Francisco and opened it again in a town where the temperature was in the triple digits. This just can’t be legal. Everything time I tried to think, it would be interrupted by “it’s so fucking hot here”.
July 2: I may get a lot of heat for this as a Californian, but I recognize that In-N-Out is not the best hamburger in the world. But there is a reason we are all obsessed it with it. It’s fast, cheap, and tasty. We wound up eating it often, especially in high school. Now it has reached the point where it’s like your own family’s cooking. It tastes like home.
July 3: We watched the Columbia/England FIFA match at the bar of Oggi’s. The line of TVs above our head were seven seconds behind the other line of TVs along the wall behind us. We waited impatiently to see the outcome of the shootout. The goalie from Barcelona was jumping up and down in the goal while the kicker from England was waiting for the whistle when people all around the bar started screaming at England’s goal.
July 4: Heidi’s neighbors set their fireworks on a board set across the tops of two ladders so that colorful sparks rained down on the children. They ran away screaming and unscathed. The people a few streets down who always manage to get their hands on illegal fireworks every year shot them so low that the bang of explosions was strong enough to set off car alarms.
July 5: A hurricane in Mexico created a rip tide so strong at Laguna Beach that the lifeguard told us we weren’t allowed to go farther than waist-deep in the water. They had already had to rescue three people who got caught in it that morning.
July 6: Nick took us all to Google to escape the heat today. Whenever I open up a social media app, all I see are screenshots of today’s over 105 degree temperature.
July 7: Heidi was on her third plastic cup of chardonnay and was dancing down the sidewalks of The Sawdust Festival, past the art booth where her mom does all the framing. Zydeco music drifted through the shafts of light that poured between tree branches.
July 8: After dinner, a few of us hung around on the benches outside of The Yard House to catch up for a little while longer. We talked mostly about videos of people using dildos so long that we were worried about that person’s vital organs and serial killers. I missed this group.
much love,
hedgie
July 2: I may get a lot of heat for this as a Californian, but I recognize that In-N-Out is not the best hamburger in the world. But there is a reason we are all obsessed it with it. It’s fast, cheap, and tasty. We wound up eating it often, especially in high school. Now it has reached the point where it’s like your own family’s cooking. It tastes like home.
July 3: We watched the Columbia/England FIFA match at the bar of Oggi’s. The line of TVs above our head were seven seconds behind the other line of TVs along the wall behind us. We waited impatiently to see the outcome of the shootout. The goalie from Barcelona was jumping up and down in the goal while the kicker from England was waiting for the whistle when people all around the bar started screaming at England’s goal.
July 4: Heidi’s neighbors set their fireworks on a board set across the tops of two ladders so that colorful sparks rained down on the children. They ran away screaming and unscathed. The people a few streets down who always manage to get their hands on illegal fireworks every year shot them so low that the bang of explosions was strong enough to set off car alarms.
July 5: A hurricane in Mexico created a rip tide so strong at Laguna Beach that the lifeguard told us we weren’t allowed to go farther than waist-deep in the water. They had already had to rescue three people who got caught in it that morning.
July 6: Nick took us all to Google to escape the heat today. Whenever I open up a social media app, all I see are screenshots of today’s over 105 degree temperature.
July 7: Heidi was on her third plastic cup of chardonnay and was dancing down the sidewalks of The Sawdust Festival, past the art booth where her mom does all the framing. Zydeco music drifted through the shafts of light that poured between tree branches.
July 8: After dinner, a few of us hung around on the benches outside of The Yard House to catch up for a little while longer. We talked mostly about videos of people using dildos so long that we were worried about that person’s vital organs and serial killers. I missed this group.
much love,
hedgie
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