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Mendocino Grove, July 21

Over coffee at the picnic-table in our campsite this morning, J and I discussed The Handmaid’s Tale, which we’ve been avidly watching. He noted, ironically of course, how the show has ruined so many things for him.

“Like what?’ I asked, semi-judgementally.

“These cars for instance- the Mercedes G-wagons they drive. I used to like them.”

“Ah,” I said. “I wonder how Mercedes feels about their branding these days after formerly being known as Kardashian-wagons. What else?”

He sat a moment and sipped his coffee.

“The color teal?” I offered.

A smirk.

“The name Lydia?”

A nod of agreement.

“Rape, perhaps?”

A look of utter shock and disgust.

“Corporal punishment then?”

“And cattle prods,” he added.

Berkeley, July 19

I mailed my letter to David Sedaris today. Actually, it’s still sitting in the mailbox and I second-guessed myself and about went and stole it back out. It would really be something if he wrote back!

Just before sealing the envelope, I enclosed a feather from one of the parrots, adding a postscript, “Juliette made you a pen.” He likes quirky. Will he take it that way? Enough to reply?

On the way home on BART later this evening there was a black gentleman on his phone bitching about his sister-in-law. He said he wished he could simply say to her, “Love yourself. Love your chocolate self.”

How delicious a sentiment.