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Pasta, Probably Tuesday

The week had a shape to it that I only noticed at the end. Groceries. A long phone call I kept meaning to return. I bought three types of pasta again, I do this, apparently, it's…

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The Tuesday That Filled Itself

It was a Tuesday. I know it was a Tuesday because I checked, after the fact, which tells you something about how the morning actually went, not like a milestone, not like a thing…

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Something Small I Put Out There

I wrote something this week. Not a recipe, not a list, not 'five things I'm loving in March.' Just, something honest. About a class I've been taking. I didn't name the class. I di…

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The Part Where I Buy Three Pastas

Errand day. I made a list. The list had seven things on it, including one that just said 'produce, figure it out,' which is a sign of either confidence or delusion and I'm honestl…

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Ninety Minutes and a Cold Pot

My mom called at like six-fifteen, which is peak dinner-assembly hour in this apartment if I'm being honest with myself about my ambitions as a cook. I had been doing something wi…

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Just a Thing I Write

There was a draft sitting in my documents folder for, I want to say a few weeks, but honestly it was longer than that. I kept opening it, moving a sentence around, closing it agai…

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What the Clay Kept

The last Wednesday was three weeks ago now. I keep meaning to write about it and then not writing about it, which is probably its own kind of answer. Here is what I made in six se…

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New Number, Same Person

Nadia's texts come from a different area code now. I noticed that on the first one, the way you notice a new haircut on someone before you notice what they're actually saying. Her…

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