all summer i stalked facebook marketplace for patio furniture to either accompany or replace the single, dilapidated wicker chair that came with the house in which i currently live. it would not surprise me if this chair had been sitting on the front porch since it (the front porch) was constructed in 1895.
a few days ago, i picked up a simple bistro-style set for a measly $25, and for approximately seven minutes attempted to clean it with my eco something-or-other disinfectant spray. this proved a fruitless effort, as the layers of dirt caked to the wood appeared bottomless in a mary poppins sort of way. i simply went back inside.
the next morning, coffee in hand, i ran my finger thoughtlessly across the tabletop, expecting dirt but finding none upon inspection. huh. i guess this is all to say, once again, i do believe in miracles, or eco-friendly cleaning products, or, more accurately, both.
• • •
every friday since the middle of september, i’ve gone on a hike. autumn in utah should be a national holiday, which is different than a gregorian-recognized season, in that it denotes celebration in addition to mere acknowledgement. i filter alltrails for difficulty: easy, moderate. i filter alltrails for length: maximum 5 miles.
i recently realized it’s better for me to hike alone, due to my inevitable compulsion to stop and photograph every leaf and trunk and shadow i happen across, often for many tens of minutes at a time. for some reason my friends sometimes find this behavior rather frustrating, or as one put it, “can you please wrap it up sometime soon.”
generally, i go for a hike because i want to be outside and look at stuff, a “good workout” being more of a welcome side effect than a priority. because my most frequent companions are overwhelmingly fire signs, my antics are accepted at best, and ridiculed at worst. if you’re reading this, aries and/or sagittarius, it wouldn’t kill you to add stroll to your vocabulary.
• • •
i take so many photos of my roommate’s cat that they’re starting to outnumber the may peony collection. i catch myself in the throes of the purest love when he naps on my stomach on the couch, and then like a light switch in a fury when i catch him licking the butter off my toast. i think maybe this is what it’s like to have a child. i think maybe i don’t want a child. i think i wish there was some kind of “try before you buy” simulation; sorry if that’s offensive to you but you literally don’t even know me.
• • •
writing at my designated-for-writing coffee shop i hear “allie” whisper-screamed from across the room, a tentative half question mark tacked onto it.
it’s R, who i know knows me but always harmlessly forgets my name, and this time she’s feeling proud of herself.
“oh, i’m so glad it’s actually you,” she says, running over for a hug, and suddenly i’m tangled in the three bags i felt were necessary cargo for this 2-hour excursion.
“me too,” i say, stifling some flippant retort i felt rise in me like a cough.
“do you live here?” she asks.
“yes, right here in tea zaanti,” i say, clearly done stifling.
lately i can’t stop thinking about lorelai gilmore, her unreasonably quick wit, the essence of truly smart humor she embodies. it’s magic to me. i laugh out loud. at work i get excited when i open instead of close because then i have time to watch an episode before bed. i haven’t been this obsessed with a show since better call saul, which in truth is a hard act to follow.
this is my first experience with gilmore girls. i think i’ve always confused it casually with golden girls, which in a not-ageist way never really did anything for me, so i never thought about it much, even with all the fall time propaganda.
there is something very autumnal about gilmore girls, and maybe it’s because no one ever wears a t-shirt, but more than that, there’s a certain implied coziness to the show that transcends its costuming and general aesthetics. it’s a wholesome story about the nuances of navigating family and friendship, and i’ll be damned if it isn’t demanding i move to a small town immediately. the walkability, the coffee shop clubhouse, the tangible sense of community – it’s all mysteriously comforting, and since october began my television screen has oscillated between hosting lorelai and rory and “relaxing jazz music cozy fall coffee shop rain ambience.”
• • •
i thought of something else to say about hiking alone: i think it’s silly to believe you can hold a substantial conversation while hucking it up the side of a mountain. it’s just not practical, and in the company of another, there’s an odd obligation to think of something to say. listen up, everyone: i have nothing to say. the “E” in my “ENFP” has recently come out as an “I.” as in introverted. as in sorry i can’t make it. as in no way are we going to chat while i wring my lungs out like dish towels.
• • •
the air is smelling something like blink and you’ll miss it - not sure if that’s just me, but it confirms that i don’t have covid. if anything in my life has felt too fast and not ended at last but much too soon it’s autumn and all its yellow, which i will look for in every season, no matter what, even if i have to eat a banana.
i said i was done writing about nostalgia but then october came, and i saw the spiced cider on the shelf at trader joe’s, and remembered it was too big to fit in my dorm room fridge. even in florida i captured fragments of this feeling: the kicking and screaming, holding onto life for the sake of my own.
• • •
instead of nicotine i had an oreo with a tiny scoop of vanilla ice cream. i like coming home to an empty house and taking up all the space. sitting in the chair even though i never sit in that chair. lunging in the kitchen, just exercising free will.
i poured a glass of wine in my favorite orange stemless; it’s not too big or too small and fits perfectly in my hand. in college i never thought i’d ever have one drink. i was mostly right. so far. i usually have two.
obsession of the week
i really had the urge to say gilmore girls again, but i didn’t want you to get mad at me.
my runner-up is this recipe for white chicken chili, which, astonishingly, rivals the one my mom made for me as a kid. usually when i cook dinner i attempt to make only the exact amount of food i’ll eat that night, because as soon as it touches a tupperware i will never look at it again. this chili is actively defying this pattern. i’ve eaten it every day since sunday and, thankfully, there’s no end in sight.
i know a dish is good when i don’t even think about taking a photo of it. it’s too delicious to be pretty. yeah, write that one down.
The coziness of Gilmore girls in the fall is unmatched. I understand this obsession all too well & am very grateful for how well it gets me through the sadness that can follow this time of year. Once again, your writing is making me feel seen & whole in myself, thank you very much
WHO said “can you please wrap it up sometime soon.”