quarantine dream.

We’ve been quarantining for almost two weeks and this is the most caught-up I’ve been on household tasks in years.

And I’m still not fully caught up. Because this is the season of life where one really can’t be, at least if one has kids and works full-time, I guess.

of swatch-dogs and diet-cokeheads.

I rewatched the classic 80s dark comedy Heathers a few months ago, and I’m still thinking about it. Nothing against Mean Girls, but what even was the point of it while Heathers is still here to cast its perfect shadow on that and every other facsimile that rises up? The dialog, the caustic humor, the themes, the hard truths—it’s all still there, and maybe it hit even harder watching it as an adult trying to navigate professional life and friend circles pulled between several competing extremes, each one (surprise!) worse than the last.

A goodbye to the very best guy

My grandfather’s funeral was last week.

It was not a surprise, as he had been declining sharply due to prostate cancer lately. And just a couple of weeks before, the hospice worker told Dad that she thought he only had two weeks or so left. He even went down to the funeral home and told them exactly what he wanted while he was still able to get around.

But sometimes people beat so many odds and so many prognoses over the years that it still feels like a surprise when something finally catches up with them. It’s hard to face the loss of such a warm, generous soul when I think about all the things I had hoped he would stick around for.

10 years in Church Hill.

Photo by Jenny Tremblay West.

January marked 10 years of being in Church Hill for me, having closed on my first house near 33rd and Clay in January 2011.

Church Hill has certainly changed in the past decade, the most obvious change being that the majority of the houses are simply inhabited at all. I remember the old house being one of about half the houses on our block that were occupied after we moved in, but by the time we left only one house was vacant. I have loved watching empty storefronts become unique, useful restaurants and shops that have a heart for the neighborhood. And I love spending pretty much all day every day inside a few-block radius. Even in the Before Times our cars usually sat neglected on the curb while we walked to pretty much everything we wanted to eat or do—a simple but good way of life that I could only fantasize about growing up in the car-bound suburbs.

her small affairs.

This quote has been rolling around in my head since we finished reading The First Four Years a couple of weeks ago:

Rose was an earnest, busy little girl with her picture books and the cat, running around the house, intent on her small affairs.

Laura Ingalls Wilder, The First Four Years