Essays on people, love, change, work, questions, and other things that matter a lot.
August, 2018: We get our milk deliveries to Mabel on Tuesdays from a vendor who is really bad at delivering milk. He doesn't deliver other products. He only does dairy. And yet every week, his brusque taciturn cronies wheels in dollies stacked with crates and tell us that the vendor is out of skim, out…
January, 2018: It’s early, but it's one of the first days of the year that spring is in the air. It smells different. It's such a good smell, I decide to jog. I’m not very good at jogging. I get out of breath easily and then I get grumpy. But maybe today, the sun and…
April, 2018: Down the street from Stone Way Cafe is MiiR, a coffee shop boasting sleek, hard benches, so much concrete construction there’s no cell reception, and and sour beers on tap. MiiR would never host an open mic. There’s a coworking space in the back for people to rent out, which is currently occupied…
Late March, 2018: I’m at Stone Way Cafe, and I came here to work on writing my as yet-untitled book, but you, sir, are up on the stage playing guitar and I can’t look away. You’re the fourth act of open mic—it’s 5:30, too damn early for an open mic—and you’re 28, you just said…
Continue reading ➞ You’d Look Better with your Sleeves Rolled Up.
November 18 This little diary was supposed to be a miniseries. It was supposed to document and process some of the particulars of my view of COVID-19, an event classified as a global pandemic. An event which, like the death of the sun, I supposed would happen eventually, but not in this lifetime. But the…
June 8 On the way to the shop, I get stuck behind a school bus. It annoys me, until I realize this is the first school bus with flashing red lights I've seen in months. At the coffee shop, I see a familiar line of three-year-olds emerging from the preschool next door. It has been…
May 29 My family has gone away to a cabin for a long weekend to celebrate Kate's birthday. It's sweet to be away, but sad and eerie that everything is closed. We can hike in the woods and cook together, but when we go into town, there's a heaviness in the air. What if locals…
May 10 For two months, I have been within an hour of home, but I haven't spent more than 30 minutes there. "Home," I guess, is shorthand for the house near Green Lake in Seattle where I pay rent and live with seven women and keep my art and dried beans. I’ve stopped in two…
April 28 Here's a weird habit I'm picking up in quarantine: obsessing over my body. I blame it on having so much extra time, but I will stare at myself in the mirror until I'm sick of it. I vacillate between profound delight and violent indifference over how I look at different angles, in different…
April 27 After a five-week-long closure, my coffee shop is scheduled to open on May 5. I miss my coworkers and I miss my routine, but I don't know if I can return, because I don't know where I'll spend the night. I have two options: Commute 50 miles from Puyallup to Seattle. That means…
April 11 Tomorrow is Easter. I've still only been reading the Bible for Lent. I'm halfway through Ezekiel. But tomorrow, I'll finally start reading other books, too. It's about time. As good as it is to read the Bible, it's not easy. My favorite book I've read the last couple months is Ecclesiastes. Some of…
April 1 Here are my people: Matt, my boyfriendMichael, his housemateStephen, his housemateMomDadDavid, my brotherAshley, my sister-in-lawDahlia, their kidKate, my sisterJosh, her boyfriend That actually seems like too many. Is that too many? I don't know how to cut out any more. April 2 The governor extended the stay home order through May 4. And…
Chelsea the Writer 