schmaltz and tea
October 20, 2011 § Leave a comment
Honestly, I was much better at this when I was sixteen years old. (Comic from here.)
Other miscellaneous observations:
- Living back home means getting hit on by high schoolers who think you’re their age. Seriously not cool.
- Colima Burgers: zucchini fries? Must check out.
- I spoke to my next-door neighborhood for the first time in years and years and years. It was one of those chance encounters at the mailbox where she’s approaching and you’re approaching and you both look at the sidewalk and pretend not to have seen each other and then suddenly whump, there she is, and there you are, reaching for the mailbox for the same time. And then cries of surprise and delight are exchanged, hugs are dispensed, and the obligatory questions about boyfriends and jobs and future plans are ventured. Maybe an awkward joke is hazarded, and then she’s telling you to visit her fiancee’s Pakistani restaurant in Chino Hills (“What’s good there?” “Oh, everything“), and all the while her big black dog is going back and forth across the road, galloping the wobbles of fat on his haunches and underbelly. Suburbia is so strange. Enclosed, like its own temperate zone. I used to lie on my stomach in this woman’s living room, my chin in a big bowl of junk food, watching Grease reruns with her daughter. Then I’d spray down her backyard because it had all these ants loving on the bowls of dog chow the family set out on a place-mat. She’s gotten shorter, of course. Her make-up is much more evident about her eyes. She says her dog’s been depressed since his friend, the other dog, died.