July 8: It took me all day to decide between Colonel Sanders and Walt Disney. Olivia is teaching a course on growth mindset and teaching about people who failed multiple times before they found success. Preliminary research shows that Colonel Sanders was involved in a shootout where his rival died, he sued his own company after selling it, he constantly swore, supposedly cursed a Japanese baseball team, he cheated on his wife frequently, and was buried in his famous white suit and bolo tie getup. So Disney won by default.
July 9: We were talking about how too much of anything, even a good thing, is bad.
“Too much sun gives you cancer, too much exercise can kill you.” Want said.
Nick joined in. “Drinking too much water can kill you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s called drowning.”
July 10: It’s been a surreal and nostalgic week. Cleaning out my closet and coming across photos of me from age 9 to 18. We all watched Stranger Things together and it was weird seeing the styles and objects I saw growing up. Then with Toy Story 4 yesterday. It’s making me really feel like I’m about to turn 30.
July 11: While cleaning out the garage, Nick dismantled an old work bench that ran along one of the walls and contained a rat nest. The tabletop was supported by two crates. Each had the word ‘Dublin’ printed on them. We checked with Grannie and it turns out that they are the actual crates they packed their belongings into when they moved here from Ireland.
July 12: At Grandpa Bob’s memorial, they placed photo albums on a few tables for people to look through while remembering his life and his legacy. The photos were browning with age, different layers of the paper were beginning to separate and the dog-eared corners were nearly torn off.The dates, locations, and names of everyone in the image were all written down in black pen on the photo itself. In a few flips of pages, we watched his entire life. We saw him as a child with chickens blocking him out from the knees down. We saw him at various beaches showing off gymnastic poses he could, balancing on one hand in the hot sand. We saw his first marriage, his army uniform, his children, and his grandchildren.
July 13: I asked Lindsie about her recent trip to Africa. I’m no quite sure how it happened, but it lead to my birthday party becoming a bunch of tipsy 30-year olds making drunken guesses as to the names of groups of animals for almost two hours straight. A smack of jellyfish, a business of ferrets, and a parliament of owls. Then it turned into us deciding what groups of our own clones would be. A harmony of Lindsies, a sparkle of Heidis, and a snark of Heathers.
July 14: The dirt crunched beneath the car tires. The road wavered back and forth in gentle curves and the surrounding trees grew up and towards each other, reaching out and brushing against the branches of the trees on the opposite side of the road so that they formed a steeple of leaves that left little room to see the stars.
July 15: I asked everyone to give me a copy of their favorite book for my birthday. I wanted them to write something inside about why they loved this book so much and leave me little note throughout it so that I would think of them while I read it. It wasn’t until I scanned the six-page essay Raven has scrawled inside the cover and first few pages of Pride and Prejudice that I realized that I essentially gave everyone homework for my birthday.
much love,
hedgie
Monday, July 15, 2019
Sunday, July 7, 2019
pop and explode just before the fire goes out
July 1: I managed to convince my parents to “Marie Kondo” the house because it’s getting more cluttered every time I come back. But since the first step of her cleaning technique is to shove everything into one giant pile, I’m worried that some people will do that step and then just leave it that mountain.
July 2: Ruth is loose again. She has been slowly emptying her house of items and depositing them into the front yard. While walking the dogs, I saw that her bushes were full of mail, clothing, and a landline phone. She has been standing in the middle of the street all morning, cussing out anyone one who walks past. Neighbors have apparently been begrudgingly feeding her and making sure she makes it back inside safely because no one is able to get a hold of her daughter.
July 3: Nick invited Angi and Kat to go to Google with us one day as a cousin work trip. No one knows how he found out, but Kat’s dad somehow found out and invited himself along. And then he invited Lyra and Sharon along. Nick is supposed to limit his guest count to four, but he’s getting off easy here. They could have very easily turned it in to a full family trip with at least a dozen people.
July 4: Heidi’s favorite firework has always been the Piccolo Petes. They emit a shrieking sound along with a sparkling flame. If you take an old nail and a hammer, you can crimp them in just the right spot to make them pop and explode just before the fire goes out. Every year, she has to experiment to find the sweet spot because the design keeps changing. She sits on the curb with her feet in the gutter, hammering tiny creases into them until she gets it right.
July 5: There have been earthquakes two days in a row. Today’s one was a rolling one that kept getting stronger the longer it went on. It was a 7.1 magnitude earthquake. We were far enough that the thing we had to worry about most was the living room flat screen TV toppling over.
July 6: Whenever I visit Orange County, I’m always most excited to go to Target. I love being able to browse the aisles without having to ask busy people to unlock the shelves to all the personal hygiene items and alcohol. It feels so freeing and extravagant.
July 7: Marie Kondo-ing is going better that I expected. Closets have been almost emptied and I can see the wooden floor again. We finally made enough space to put away the chairs we took out for Christmas seating. We cleared out enough of the garage that two cars can now fit in it, the way it was originally intended to. Which is nice, but then Dad found some bad wiring in the kitchen. He turned off all the electricity to avoid getting checked when he tried to fix it. But after her put everything back on, half the lights upstairs wouldn’t work and we can’t find anything wrong with the fuses or circuit breakers.
much love,
hedgie
July 2: Ruth is loose again. She has been slowly emptying her house of items and depositing them into the front yard. While walking the dogs, I saw that her bushes were full of mail, clothing, and a landline phone. She has been standing in the middle of the street all morning, cussing out anyone one who walks past. Neighbors have apparently been begrudgingly feeding her and making sure she makes it back inside safely because no one is able to get a hold of her daughter.
July 3: Nick invited Angi and Kat to go to Google with us one day as a cousin work trip. No one knows how he found out, but Kat’s dad somehow found out and invited himself along. And then he invited Lyra and Sharon along. Nick is supposed to limit his guest count to four, but he’s getting off easy here. They could have very easily turned it in to a full family trip with at least a dozen people.
July 4: Heidi’s favorite firework has always been the Piccolo Petes. They emit a shrieking sound along with a sparkling flame. If you take an old nail and a hammer, you can crimp them in just the right spot to make them pop and explode just before the fire goes out. Every year, she has to experiment to find the sweet spot because the design keeps changing. She sits on the curb with her feet in the gutter, hammering tiny creases into them until she gets it right.
July 5: There have been earthquakes two days in a row. Today’s one was a rolling one that kept getting stronger the longer it went on. It was a 7.1 magnitude earthquake. We were far enough that the thing we had to worry about most was the living room flat screen TV toppling over.
July 6: Whenever I visit Orange County, I’m always most excited to go to Target. I love being able to browse the aisles without having to ask busy people to unlock the shelves to all the personal hygiene items and alcohol. It feels so freeing and extravagant.
July 7: Marie Kondo-ing is going better that I expected. Closets have been almost emptied and I can see the wooden floor again. We finally made enough space to put away the chairs we took out for Christmas seating. We cleared out enough of the garage that two cars can now fit in it, the way it was originally intended to. Which is nice, but then Dad found some bad wiring in the kitchen. He turned off all the electricity to avoid getting checked when he tried to fix it. But after her put everything back on, half the lights upstairs wouldn’t work and we can’t find anything wrong with the fuses or circuit breakers.
much love,
hedgie
Sunday, June 30, 2019
the dog parade
June 24: Cleaning out my dressers is weird. I simultaneously feel like I’m getting rid of too much stuff and not enough at the same time. It’s like watching myself throwing away pieces of who I used to be and who I thought I would be by the time I reached this age.
June 25: I want to talk about what’s bothering me and get it out. But he seems to do everything he can to stop me. He interrupts, tries to distract me, and tells me he is the wrong person to go to for this kind of thing. It’s like I ate something poisonous and I’m trying to throw it up, but he puts his hand over my mouth and forces me to swallow it again.
June 26: I’ve been on a Gordan Ramsay binge lately. Just watching him yell at deluded owners and sticking up for the line staff is so satisfying. This is the closest I will get to yelling back at all the baby boomers who have deemed my generation as selfish snowflakes. They are the ones who tell me to go to college and get in debt for it so I can avoid a life of working in fast-food joints. Then they tell me to remove my degree from my resume so I can have an easier time finding work where they can pay me less than what I deserve while my student loan payments start six months after graduation and come weighted down with huge interest rates. Then they berate people who do end up working in fast food places just to make ends meet.
June 27: I passed a family that was out walking their dog that looked just liked George. He was another tiny, white, fluffy guy. They sniffed each other and when we parted ways without incident, I praised George. The woman in the group stopped dead in her tracks and her mouth fell open. The other dogs was also named George.
June 28: The sun was setting and we pulled over to the side of the freeway. The wind was helped along by the semi-trucks and picked up flecks of sand from the shoulder of the road, but it was still warm. We scattered Jr’s ashes where a sunflower bush and a thorny bush converged.
June 29: The program for Grandma’s memorial service listed that Matt and Angi would be performing a duet of Amazing Grace. Angi took centerstage and pulled the microphone out of its holder. The stage was still decorated with a fake plane and Mayan temple from the church’s VBS program. Matt went to the piano. Nick leaned towards me. “I didn’t know Matt played the piano,” he whispered. But apparently he didn’t because he played exactly two notes and Angi belted out the song alone. And now I want to hire them as an entertainment duo for every event I have from now on.
June 30: We had one dog per person as we walked around the marina in Dana Point. At least a dozen people pointed us out, calling us the “dog parade”. I was busy reading the names painted on the backboards of all the boats, names like Fish Lips and Wild in Sac.
much love,
hedgie
June 25: I want to talk about what’s bothering me and get it out. But he seems to do everything he can to stop me. He interrupts, tries to distract me, and tells me he is the wrong person to go to for this kind of thing. It’s like I ate something poisonous and I’m trying to throw it up, but he puts his hand over my mouth and forces me to swallow it again.
June 26: I’ve been on a Gordan Ramsay binge lately. Just watching him yell at deluded owners and sticking up for the line staff is so satisfying. This is the closest I will get to yelling back at all the baby boomers who have deemed my generation as selfish snowflakes. They are the ones who tell me to go to college and get in debt for it so I can avoid a life of working in fast-food joints. Then they tell me to remove my degree from my resume so I can have an easier time finding work where they can pay me less than what I deserve while my student loan payments start six months after graduation and come weighted down with huge interest rates. Then they berate people who do end up working in fast food places just to make ends meet.
June 27: I passed a family that was out walking their dog that looked just liked George. He was another tiny, white, fluffy guy. They sniffed each other and when we parted ways without incident, I praised George. The woman in the group stopped dead in her tracks and her mouth fell open. The other dogs was also named George.
June 28: The sun was setting and we pulled over to the side of the freeway. The wind was helped along by the semi-trucks and picked up flecks of sand from the shoulder of the road, but it was still warm. We scattered Jr’s ashes where a sunflower bush and a thorny bush converged.
June 29: The program for Grandma’s memorial service listed that Matt and Angi would be performing a duet of Amazing Grace. Angi took centerstage and pulled the microphone out of its holder. The stage was still decorated with a fake plane and Mayan temple from the church’s VBS program. Matt went to the piano. Nick leaned towards me. “I didn’t know Matt played the piano,” he whispered. But apparently he didn’t because he played exactly two notes and Angi belted out the song alone. And now I want to hire them as an entertainment duo for every event I have from now on.
June 30: We had one dog per person as we walked around the marina in Dana Point. At least a dozen people pointed us out, calling us the “dog parade”. I was busy reading the names painted on the backboards of all the boats, names like Fish Lips and Wild in Sac.
much love,
hedgie
Sunday, June 23, 2019
murder first, drinks second
June 16: Even years later, she never felt like part of the family. They were awkward around her and couldn’t remember things about her. She felt more like a neighbor that they invited just to be nice but they never expected to actually show up.
June 17: Addie had been sick lately and it’s hard to figure out why. Her symptoms are difficult to fit together into one diagnosis. She’s still active and silly. She’s drinking plenty of water and her appetite is good. There’s nothing unusual in her poop. But everyday for about a week, she has woken us up at four in the morning to vomit in the living room.
June 18: I’m losing track of what day it is already. Everything is starting to blur together. I’m torn between feeling like school got out one week ago or two months ago. Nothing else would make any sense to me right now.
June 19: I started giant knitting this week so I can make a blanket for the living room. It’s a lot more physical than I was expecting. I have to take a break every two rows because it is so tiring to even unspool the giant ball of yarn.
June 20: I’ve been watching “Tidying Up with Marie Kondo” in hopes that it will help put me into the mindset to start cleaning out my dressers. Her first step is to pile everything into a single mound and sort through it one by one to determine what you keep and what you let go. She says to hold them up to your chest and see if it sparks joy, giving the same feeling as holding a puppy. While I understand the theory behind it and how that can be helpful, I just feel like that is a lot to ask of a T-shirt.
June 21: It’s strange how little men’s fashion has changed throughout the years. Nick and I are trying to choose our outfits for the 1920’s-themed scavenger hunt tomorrow and he’s able to just wear the 1950’s suit he once bought. I’m choosing all the loosest and shapeless clothes I can find, which is strange because in just a few decades, tight and form-fitting clothes become the new look.
June 22: We had half an hour to solve the murder mystery before end time and everyone was still looking at the menu. “Guys, murder first, drinks second.”
June 23: Addie has started the shedding process. I can’t pet her without hair jetting out in all directions like confetti at a parade. It is officially the summer season.
much love,
hedgie
June 17: Addie had been sick lately and it’s hard to figure out why. Her symptoms are difficult to fit together into one diagnosis. She’s still active and silly. She’s drinking plenty of water and her appetite is good. There’s nothing unusual in her poop. But everyday for about a week, she has woken us up at four in the morning to vomit in the living room.
June 18: I’m losing track of what day it is already. Everything is starting to blur together. I’m torn between feeling like school got out one week ago or two months ago. Nothing else would make any sense to me right now.
June 19: I started giant knitting this week so I can make a blanket for the living room. It’s a lot more physical than I was expecting. I have to take a break every two rows because it is so tiring to even unspool the giant ball of yarn.
June 20: I’ve been watching “Tidying Up with Marie Kondo” in hopes that it will help put me into the mindset to start cleaning out my dressers. Her first step is to pile everything into a single mound and sort through it one by one to determine what you keep and what you let go. She says to hold them up to your chest and see if it sparks joy, giving the same feeling as holding a puppy. While I understand the theory behind it and how that can be helpful, I just feel like that is a lot to ask of a T-shirt.
June 21: It’s strange how little men’s fashion has changed throughout the years. Nick and I are trying to choose our outfits for the 1920’s-themed scavenger hunt tomorrow and he’s able to just wear the 1950’s suit he once bought. I’m choosing all the loosest and shapeless clothes I can find, which is strange because in just a few decades, tight and form-fitting clothes become the new look.
June 22: We had half an hour to solve the murder mystery before end time and everyone was still looking at the menu. “Guys, murder first, drinks second.”
June 23: Addie has started the shedding process. I can’t pet her without hair jetting out in all directions like confetti at a parade. It is officially the summer season.
much love,
hedgie
Saturday, June 15, 2019
acne and wrinkles at the same time
June 8: Uncle still claims that he can tell a winning horse by just looking at it. I still have the bad habit of choosing a horse to bet on based on how funny I find their names.
June 9: Wiggins has been nicknamed “The Fur Rocket”. He pulled against his leash during the entire four-mile walk along the beach today. Even when he followed me to bed for a nap, he kept licking my eyeballs roughly every ten minutes just to make sure I was still alive.
June 10: I finally told Heidi about everything that had been going on with me in San Francisco. I cried a lot, but it felt good. It was amazing to discover that we had even more in common then I realized. We played out the exact same role in multiple situations, just a few years apart and with different people. It was sad and a relief at the same time. I may be making stupid decisions, but I’m not the only one doing it.
June 11: For the encore, John Paul White pulled out his acoustic guitar and beckoned us closer. He wouldn’t play until everyone he couldn’t see in the glow of the stage lights had moved forward to the empty tables closet to the stage. He sang without a mic in such a raw and tender way that his voice was almost washed away by the clinking sounds of the servers cleaning up the empty glasses from the abandoned tables.
June 12: Grannie’s house it nearly empty now. She’s moving back into Leisure World sometime next week. She showed us pictures of her new place on her iPad. It’s strange to think that this is the last time I will ever sit in this living room.
June 13: Addie keeps wanting to lick her butthole, but knows that we don’t like it. Every time she wants to do it and she is in the same room as us, she awkwardly crouches her butt as close to the ground as she can while still walking and then looks very guilty.
June 14: The fun thing about almost being thirty is that I’m somehow dealing with acne and wrinkles at the same time.
June 15: I still feel like a kid in so many ways. I keep watching so many people my age gracefully transition into adulthood. They have houses, kids, and careers with promotions. It makes me wonder what I am doing wrong. How is it so easy for them and so difficult to me? Everything just seems to work out in their favor. It reminds me of a conversation Nick and I have about once a week. I’ll tell him that I’m worried about something. He holds me hand and tells me, “Let me worry about that.” “But you’re not worried about it.” “Exactly.” For him, that was all that was needed to be said about the subject. Of course it was, he always ended up okay. For me, it was just the opening of a huge chasm that I would have to figure out how to cross alone.
much love,
hedgie
June 9: Wiggins has been nicknamed “The Fur Rocket”. He pulled against his leash during the entire four-mile walk along the beach today. Even when he followed me to bed for a nap, he kept licking my eyeballs roughly every ten minutes just to make sure I was still alive.
June 10: I finally told Heidi about everything that had been going on with me in San Francisco. I cried a lot, but it felt good. It was amazing to discover that we had even more in common then I realized. We played out the exact same role in multiple situations, just a few years apart and with different people. It was sad and a relief at the same time. I may be making stupid decisions, but I’m not the only one doing it.
June 11: For the encore, John Paul White pulled out his acoustic guitar and beckoned us closer. He wouldn’t play until everyone he couldn’t see in the glow of the stage lights had moved forward to the empty tables closet to the stage. He sang without a mic in such a raw and tender way that his voice was almost washed away by the clinking sounds of the servers cleaning up the empty glasses from the abandoned tables.
June 12: Grannie’s house it nearly empty now. She’s moving back into Leisure World sometime next week. She showed us pictures of her new place on her iPad. It’s strange to think that this is the last time I will ever sit in this living room.
June 13: Addie keeps wanting to lick her butthole, but knows that we don’t like it. Every time she wants to do it and she is in the same room as us, she awkwardly crouches her butt as close to the ground as she can while still walking and then looks very guilty.
June 14: The fun thing about almost being thirty is that I’m somehow dealing with acne and wrinkles at the same time.
June 15: I still feel like a kid in so many ways. I keep watching so many people my age gracefully transition into adulthood. They have houses, kids, and careers with promotions. It makes me wonder what I am doing wrong. How is it so easy for them and so difficult to me? Everything just seems to work out in their favor. It reminds me of a conversation Nick and I have about once a week. I’ll tell him that I’m worried about something. He holds me hand and tells me, “Let me worry about that.” “But you’re not worried about it.” “Exactly.” For him, that was all that was needed to be said about the subject. Of course it was, he always ended up okay. For me, it was just the opening of a huge chasm that I would have to figure out how to cross alone.
much love,
hedgie
Friday, June 7, 2019
my dog doesn't speak english
June 1: A lot of people think you don’t need to apologize if something was an accident. They don’t want to take blame for something out of fear it looks like they are admitting to being a bad person. But it’s just validating the other person’s reality. They got hurt and they were the cause of it. They deserve to hear that it happened, it was real, and that they are sorry that they were pain because of it. It’s like when I accidentally step on George’s paw. I don’t keep going when he yelps. I stop what I’m doing, go to my knees to pet and assure him.
June 2: Addie was barking at a man who was staring at us for too long in the street. The guy kept walking up towards her with his hand sticking out in front of him, even after I told him she doesn’t do well with men she doesn’t know. He told her that he was a nice guy repeatedly. I wasn’t really sure how to explain to him that she doesn’t speak English.
June 3: So far, there are nine teachers who will not be returning next year. I think it’s a new record.
June 4: It was the last day of school. I turned off all my work alarms. I don’t know what to do with myself now.
June 5: It didn’t take much to convince Katie that we should get ice cream. I pointed out Mitchell’s as we walked by on our way back to the apartment. A block later, I stopped to look at some pretty flowers. That pause was enough reason to make her turn around and say we were getting a treat.
June 6: Today, George farted so loudly that he scared both himself and Addie. They jumped so high off the couch that I thought they saw a rat suddenly scamper through the living room.
June 7: It’s strange how much shorter my days seem now. I can barely get two things done before it’s dark. Today, I went to the dentist and packed and all of a sudden it got so late. How was I able to get so much more done when at work?
much love,
hedgie
June 2: Addie was barking at a man who was staring at us for too long in the street. The guy kept walking up towards her with his hand sticking out in front of him, even after I told him she doesn’t do well with men she doesn’t know. He told her that he was a nice guy repeatedly. I wasn’t really sure how to explain to him that she doesn’t speak English.
June 3: So far, there are nine teachers who will not be returning next year. I think it’s a new record.
June 4: It was the last day of school. I turned off all my work alarms. I don’t know what to do with myself now.
June 5: It didn’t take much to convince Katie that we should get ice cream. I pointed out Mitchell’s as we walked by on our way back to the apartment. A block later, I stopped to look at some pretty flowers. That pause was enough reason to make her turn around and say we were getting a treat.
June 6: Today, George farted so loudly that he scared both himself and Addie. They jumped so high off the couch that I thought they saw a rat suddenly scamper through the living room.
June 7: It’s strange how much shorter my days seem now. I can barely get two things done before it’s dark. Today, I went to the dentist and packed and all of a sudden it got so late. How was I able to get so much more done when at work?
much love,
hedgie
Friday, May 31, 2019
sad fireworks
May 25: Addie is still licking herself raw. She stopped focusing purely on her stomach and has now added one of the pads of her front right paw. Now when we leave, we have to put on both the life vest and a shoe that makes her limp around the apartment. She is slowly becoming a pirate.
May 26: Through this entire school year, I have managed to dodge all illnesses. I escaped every flu and virus that existed in the Petri dish that is this school. Then I get taken down by one weekend with Nick. The dogs seem to realize we are sick and have spent all day cuddling us. They even split up to keep track of us when we go to different rooms. Addie remained in the bedroom while Nick napped and George followed me into the living room to watch TV.
May 27: The Monet exhibit featured paintings from the later years of Monet’s life. They comprised mainly of his famed paintings of Lillies and the bridge that curved over his garden pond. There was a series painted during the time his cataracts rendered him nearly blind. They were colorful and haphazard. Most of the time, I couldn’t tell what it was supposed to depict until I either took off my glasses or looked at it from across the room.
May 28: Vivi and Maria were out sick today. Ana took Maria’s class and Vivi’s students were split up amongst the rest of our classes. Dea’madja got ahold of my speaker with the suction cup and immediately pushed it against his eye. Then Noelia did the same. They both started crying because of how much it hurt to pull the speaker off. I finally calmed them down and got them to run cold water over their closed eyes to help with the pain. My kids didn’t help. They kept pointing out that one eye was now bigger than the other. This was because the irritated eye kept squinting, but it convinced Dea’madja and Noelia that their eyeball had popped out of its socket.
Or
Fireworks have been going off for over ten minutes because a Giants’ game has just ended. We didn’t even win. I guess it is a display of the sad fireworks.
May 29: Mom sent out a group text message to me and my brothers. It read “Your brown grandma is dying. Wanted to remind you of her.”
May 30: Benjamin held out a loose tooth towards me. “I found this in my celery. It isn’t mine.” He showed me his loose tooth, which was still barely holding on. I didn’t know what to do in that situation, so I called Melissa over. She asked him to check the rest of his mouth. Turns out, a tooth on the other side of his mouth that wasn’t even loose popped out without him realizing it.
May 31: There is no cure for homesickness. I house a place in my head as my embodiment of home. It’s a collection of sunny days, the smoothie shop I always went to, and the people I used to play soccer with in the street. But so much time passes in between my visits that each time I come home, I recognize it less and less.
much love,
hedgie
May 26: Through this entire school year, I have managed to dodge all illnesses. I escaped every flu and virus that existed in the Petri dish that is this school. Then I get taken down by one weekend with Nick. The dogs seem to realize we are sick and have spent all day cuddling us. They even split up to keep track of us when we go to different rooms. Addie remained in the bedroom while Nick napped and George followed me into the living room to watch TV.
May 27: The Monet exhibit featured paintings from the later years of Monet’s life. They comprised mainly of his famed paintings of Lillies and the bridge that curved over his garden pond. There was a series painted during the time his cataracts rendered him nearly blind. They were colorful and haphazard. Most of the time, I couldn’t tell what it was supposed to depict until I either took off my glasses or looked at it from across the room.
May 28: Vivi and Maria were out sick today. Ana took Maria’s class and Vivi’s students were split up amongst the rest of our classes. Dea’madja got ahold of my speaker with the suction cup and immediately pushed it against his eye. Then Noelia did the same. They both started crying because of how much it hurt to pull the speaker off. I finally calmed them down and got them to run cold water over their closed eyes to help with the pain. My kids didn’t help. They kept pointing out that one eye was now bigger than the other. This was because the irritated eye kept squinting, but it convinced Dea’madja and Noelia that their eyeball had popped out of its socket.
Or
Fireworks have been going off for over ten minutes because a Giants’ game has just ended. We didn’t even win. I guess it is a display of the sad fireworks.
May 29: Mom sent out a group text message to me and my brothers. It read “Your brown grandma is dying. Wanted to remind you of her.”
May 30: Benjamin held out a loose tooth towards me. “I found this in my celery. It isn’t mine.” He showed me his loose tooth, which was still barely holding on. I didn’t know what to do in that situation, so I called Melissa over. She asked him to check the rest of his mouth. Turns out, a tooth on the other side of his mouth that wasn’t even loose popped out without him realizing it.
May 31: There is no cure for homesickness. I house a place in my head as my embodiment of home. It’s a collection of sunny days, the smoothie shop I always went to, and the people I used to play soccer with in the street. But so much time passes in between my visits that each time I come home, I recognize it less and less.
much love,
hedgie
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