August 1: Heidi was worried about eating her fried pickles too soon. She held one cupped in two hands, gently blowing and looking like she was playing the harmonica. They were still hot and she had a habit of not being able to wait long enough for the oil to cool and end up blistering the roof of her mouth. She would spend the next few days dealing with the chandelier of dead gums that hung just behind her incisors.
August 2: Wiggins has been following behind me so closely that his little nose bumps against the back of my calves when I come to a sudden stop.
August 3: We drove back to San Francisco through the part of California that where the heat was in the triple digits and larges stretches of land alternate between prisons and cow farms. I’m not sure which was the more out of place things we saw today, a car pulled over onto the freeway that was completely on fire or the car that had so many pine tree air fresheners that the owner ran out of room on the review mirror and dangled more from a command utility hook installed in the windshield.
August 4: I have been missing my kids so much these last few weeks. I’m so excited to see them again, but I also have a feeling that within the first half hour I will wonder why I missed them so much.
August 5: On the first day back, they had us do a scavenger hunt. We had to take a selfie in front of the church that started our program, get Eddie’s signature from his second desk at Muddy Waters, and awkwardly ask people on the street for a money donation to Mission Graduates.
August 6: The minimum wage rate in Mission Graduates has gone up to $18 an hour. Which sounds great, but it’s been making returning staff anxious. It’s all anyone talked about during the lunch breaks of training. A lot of us spent years here and aren’t even at that much. They worry we will be making the same amount as people coming in this year.
August 7: Mission Graduates is opening a new school at Cleveland. A new site plus a lot of staff leaving means we have been meeting a lot of new people this week. Melissa hired someone named Diego to replace Maria. We have not met him yet and they say he won’t be here until two weeks into the school year. We are starting to suspect that he is not real.
August 8: We were sat outside along the water’s edge where the seagulls could watch us with anticipation while we ate our mound of crab legs, sausage slices, potatoes, and shrimp. We both wore bibs and were armed with wooden mallets to break apart the shells before dumping them into the metal bowl in the middle of the table. Despite how cold it got after the sun set, our butter managed to stay liquid for half an hour before it congealed over and we had to ask for more.
August 9: After a fire destroyed 31 blocks of Seattle, the city decided to rebuild on top of what was destroyed. The streets were elevated that what used to be the ground floor of buildings were now underground. We took a tour of the deserted underground levels of these buildings. The tour guide was named Serene because her mother wanted a calm, quiet child. This guide belted out every sentence she said like if was the chorus of the title song in a Broadway musical. “Let’s talk about whoooooores!” sang, her voice echoing in the empty cambers around us. Then she told us about all the not very successful ways that prostitutes tried to avoid pregnancy, including shoving metal coins and half a lemon up what she referred to as their “squish mitten”.
much love,
hedgie
Friday, August 9, 2019
Wednesday, July 31, 2019
laughing so hard that she is crying
July 25: The ocean seemed impatient today. The waves would surge and crash within a few feet. It left the swells so tall and thin that when they peaked, I could see straight through it to the dangling legs of everyone riding the wave out.
July 26: I got to meet Roni’s fiancé for the first time. We even drove by their wedding location. Usually, they are able to wander around when they visit, but that day there was an actual wedding reception going. We kept debating if we were dressed nice enough to just wander in and check their setup out without looking suspicious.
July 27: My parents have been having monthly lunches with the Tedrows. They take turns paying for the entire meal, ensuring that they will continue meeting up for meals. I joined the one today. It was a strange sensation to eat with them again, warm and recognizable, but new at the same time. These were people that I knew so well and were a huge part of my life for a long time, but that part of my life hasn’t existed for about 15 years.
July 28: It’s funny how getting drinks with good friends can be relieve and add stress at the same time. It’s nice to know that we are all going through stuff and aren’t alone, but it still isn’t great to hear about the the shitty things we are all dealing with. All of us were trying to figure out how to give help when we all needed help ourselves.
July 29: More updates keep coming in about the Girlroy Garlic Festival shooting. A six-year old boy died. Everyday, it gets harder and harder to feel safe in public. I am so tired of hearing about shootings and thinking ‘another one already?’. I’m sick of mapping out plans in my head for what I would do if a shooter suddenly came out when I’m with my kids. If the table would be enough to barricade the door. How many students could I fit into the closet and under the teacher’s desk. What could be done if one of my kids was at the bathroom when it happened.
July 30: Katie cannot get over the cashew joke Matt told her at my birthday party. She tells it at least five times every time I see her even though even we hang out with has already heard it. Out of nowhere, she asks to no one in particular, “What did the nut say while chasing another nut?” No one says anything. At this point, she is already laughing so hard that she is crying. “I’mma cashew!”
July 31: I just realized that the ring I bought has a fake turquoise stone is the exact same shade as the walls of my childhood bedroom. The black, wavering lines run through it like it is cracked and ready to fall apart at any moment.
much love,
hedgie
July 26: I got to meet Roni’s fiancé for the first time. We even drove by their wedding location. Usually, they are able to wander around when they visit, but that day there was an actual wedding reception going. We kept debating if we were dressed nice enough to just wander in and check their setup out without looking suspicious.
July 27: My parents have been having monthly lunches with the Tedrows. They take turns paying for the entire meal, ensuring that they will continue meeting up for meals. I joined the one today. It was a strange sensation to eat with them again, warm and recognizable, but new at the same time. These were people that I knew so well and were a huge part of my life for a long time, but that part of my life hasn’t existed for about 15 years.
July 28: It’s funny how getting drinks with good friends can be relieve and add stress at the same time. It’s nice to know that we are all going through stuff and aren’t alone, but it still isn’t great to hear about the the shitty things we are all dealing with. All of us were trying to figure out how to give help when we all needed help ourselves.
July 29: More updates keep coming in about the Girlroy Garlic Festival shooting. A six-year old boy died. Everyday, it gets harder and harder to feel safe in public. I am so tired of hearing about shootings and thinking ‘another one already?’. I’m sick of mapping out plans in my head for what I would do if a shooter suddenly came out when I’m with my kids. If the table would be enough to barricade the door. How many students could I fit into the closet and under the teacher’s desk. What could be done if one of my kids was at the bathroom when it happened.
July 30: Katie cannot get over the cashew joke Matt told her at my birthday party. She tells it at least five times every time I see her even though even we hang out with has already heard it. Out of nowhere, she asks to no one in particular, “What did the nut say while chasing another nut?” No one says anything. At this point, she is already laughing so hard that she is crying. “I’mma cashew!”
July 31: I just realized that the ring I bought has a fake turquoise stone is the exact same shade as the walls of my childhood bedroom. The black, wavering lines run through it like it is cracked and ready to fall apart at any moment.
much love,
hedgie
Wednesday, July 24, 2019
“you are loved”, “life is a journey”, and “bitch”
July 16: In the line for Radiator Springs Racers, there is a small house made to look like it was made out of old glass oil bottles and cement. In the dark, people used the light from their cellphones to light up bottles for the kids on the other side of the wall so that they could chase the lights like lightning bugs.
July 17: 1.7 million people have stated they they are going to raid Area 51on September 20, 2019 at three in the morning. They figure that they can’t possibly stop all of them. And if they Naruto run, they can dodge any bullets that come flying at them. They want to see aliens.
July 18: There was a group dog middle aged couples hanging around the bar, killing time until their lunch at the Del Mar Race Track. The women all wore engagement rings with diamonds so big that they looked like they had won the Super Bowl.
July 19: The possible move to Oregon is being taken very seriously. Emily, Jordan, and Nick have been looking at houses for sale and comparing them. They seem to lean towards ones with front porches that are surrounded by trees. They also seem to favor houses that are also within our price ranges, a feat not possible in the areas we currently live.
July 20: The Marriott sells wood sticks so that guests can roast marshmallows over their gas fireplaces. But it was hard to get the perfect, golden marshmallow without hot embers and we all ended up eating s’more with either Luke-warm marshmallows or lumps of coal. Everyone ended up cutting off bite-sized chunks of the steak leftover from lunch and reheating them on sticks over the fire. Angi even lumped a mound of rice on two sticks and cook it as a side dish.
July 21: One booth at the Sawdust Festival sold personalized necklaces with hidden messages. The pendant was mad of two wok-shaped pieces that fit together like a clam. The one in front could be decorated with imprints of stars, daisies, or paw prints. The inside of the back one could have messages printed inside. The pre-made messages included “You are loved”, “Life is a journey”, and “Bitch”.
July 22: Dad’s noir book not only got accepted by a publisher, but they also want to be a series. Nora’s rump is going to be famous.
July 23: Sometimes I forget that I live somewhere that people from all over the world come to for vacation. It still blows my mind how many people in the world have never seen the ocean. Lexi, Zoey, and Mitchell have spent their lives swimming in pools and lakes. They seem very wary of waves and are afraid to dive under the ones that come crashing down on them and they end up being swept and tumbled away onto the sand again. They opt for digging for sand crabs, burying each other, and splashing Mitchell while they stand knee-deep in the brine.
July 24: We spent the day at Redondo Beach, which was the favorite beach of Mara’s dad. We taught Mara’s kids how to rip apart crabs with their bare hands and gave them a taste of the sea urchin mom got that was so fresh its spines were still waving slowly in the air. The water was filthy. It was full of trash and left all of our swimsuits filled with black bits of tar. Even then, the kids refused to leave the water. Summer decided that her mermaid name was Mermalina and she kept begging for me to let her swim on her own. As soon as I let her go, a wave would come and wash over her. She would bob back to the surface, her eyes squeezed shut to keep out the sea water. She would blow out the water from her mouth like a whale breaching and tell me to grab her again. As soon as I had her, she wiped her eyes and wiggled to get free from me again.
much love,
hedgie
July 17: 1.7 million people have stated they they are going to raid Area 51on September 20, 2019 at three in the morning. They figure that they can’t possibly stop all of them. And if they Naruto run, they can dodge any bullets that come flying at them. They want to see aliens.
July 18: There was a group dog middle aged couples hanging around the bar, killing time until their lunch at the Del Mar Race Track. The women all wore engagement rings with diamonds so big that they looked like they had won the Super Bowl.
July 19: The possible move to Oregon is being taken very seriously. Emily, Jordan, and Nick have been looking at houses for sale and comparing them. They seem to lean towards ones with front porches that are surrounded by trees. They also seem to favor houses that are also within our price ranges, a feat not possible in the areas we currently live.
July 20: The Marriott sells wood sticks so that guests can roast marshmallows over their gas fireplaces. But it was hard to get the perfect, golden marshmallow without hot embers and we all ended up eating s’more with either Luke-warm marshmallows or lumps of coal. Everyone ended up cutting off bite-sized chunks of the steak leftover from lunch and reheating them on sticks over the fire. Angi even lumped a mound of rice on two sticks and cook it as a side dish.
July 21: One booth at the Sawdust Festival sold personalized necklaces with hidden messages. The pendant was mad of two wok-shaped pieces that fit together like a clam. The one in front could be decorated with imprints of stars, daisies, or paw prints. The inside of the back one could have messages printed inside. The pre-made messages included “You are loved”, “Life is a journey”, and “Bitch”.
July 22: Dad’s noir book not only got accepted by a publisher, but they also want to be a series. Nora’s rump is going to be famous.
July 23: Sometimes I forget that I live somewhere that people from all over the world come to for vacation. It still blows my mind how many people in the world have never seen the ocean. Lexi, Zoey, and Mitchell have spent their lives swimming in pools and lakes. They seem very wary of waves and are afraid to dive under the ones that come crashing down on them and they end up being swept and tumbled away onto the sand again. They opt for digging for sand crabs, burying each other, and splashing Mitchell while they stand knee-deep in the brine.
July 24: We spent the day at Redondo Beach, which was the favorite beach of Mara’s dad. We taught Mara’s kids how to rip apart crabs with their bare hands and gave them a taste of the sea urchin mom got that was so fresh its spines were still waving slowly in the air. The water was filthy. It was full of trash and left all of our swimsuits filled with black bits of tar. Even then, the kids refused to leave the water. Summer decided that her mermaid name was Mermalina and she kept begging for me to let her swim on her own. As soon as I let her go, a wave would come and wash over her. She would bob back to the surface, her eyes squeezed shut to keep out the sea water. She would blow out the water from her mouth like a whale breaching and tell me to grab her again. As soon as I had her, she wiped her eyes and wiggled to get free from me again.
much love,
hedgie
Monday, July 15, 2019
homework for my birthday
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
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
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
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