Tag: routine

  • For my spotty memory

    For my spotty memory

    on clear beginnings and still mornings and need vs want.

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  • Georgiana

    on gigi and time with our dogs.

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  • Care for a slice?

    on hot days, dead flowers & connections & presence amidst distractions.

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  • The Watermelon Dome 🎧

    The outside smells like when we were talking.  Musty grass. Spring giving into summer faster than most regions. The gardenia tree next door releasing its scent. Or maybe it’s the perfume I wore last year around this time. Warm and lingering on my neck, rose and blueberry and magnolia. In the watermelon dome, our skin…

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  • Throw a punch (I)

    I shall be fighting a heavy bag in precisely one hour. It only took me nine days to follow through. It will be the first time wrapping my hands and putting on boxing gloves. Not the first time throwing a punch. And definitely not the first time visualizing how good I imagine it feels wearing…

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  • Rituals

    The end of our walk starts with my daily encouragement to hurry Gigi home by telling her she’s going to get second breakfast. This doesn’t really help at all (she still stops and sticks her face in every damn thing), nor does it discourage her from barking at the passing cars or bike riders on…

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  • Paper-Cut Hearts

    I love February. I’m a sucker for the colors of Valentine’s Day and all the sweetness that comes with the holiday. I don’t know why, I just think it’s cute. I’m still off social media. Okay, sometimes, at work, I’d skim my (finally deactivated) Twitter feed (which is mostly astrology content creators and X-Files fans),…

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  • January Song 🎧

    It’s a dreary Sunday morning, fog and a white-gray sky making the warm temperature seem contradictory. Thankfully, there’s an intermittent breeze, light and cool enough to be comfortable as Gigi and I head out for our regular walk. Sometimes we go through the apartments across the street from our home. She loves this because there…

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  • it’s December

    I wake up with my hands wrapped around his stomach like a seatbelt. I can hear Gigi fidgeting in her crate when I open my eyes to not the kind of darkness that tells you it’s okay to keep sleeping, but the kind of darkness that hints at a sunrise pending. Nothing’s particularly different or…

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