by jkatejohnston

27 September 2013

Dear Max,

There are seven pages of notes at the end of this diary that I keep pushing along bulldozer fashion because they might turn into something someday, a possibility that seems more and more remote: A list:

  • More about Trayvon Martin and all the powerful black women at my work and what they might think of it and how we absolutely do not talk about it.
  • How Enzo refers to all black people as “Africans” and our attempts to talk him out of it.
  • Various fortunes from our fortune cookies, ours usually practical; Enzo’s usually inspirational. How do the cookies know?
  • Why I don’t like paragraphs and think they should be got rid of. Commas too.
  • Chia seeds and how I can’t quite love them.
  • Using elderly mixed greens in a fritatta.
  • How Enzo doesn’t like eggs and maybe he’s just an asshole.
  • What we’ve grated so far in our Zyliss parmesan grater: frozen M&Ms, toasted hazelnuts, and unsweetened baking chocolate mixed with sugar.
  • Kids’ sports, curse them. (This must have been during basketball season at the Y.)
  • What if PMS is The Truth?
  • Writing Problem: Enzo’s pushups and how you bend the truth (in your own mind) to fit an idea. Ideas not important. What happens is important. (This brought on by my facing the fact that Enzo does NOT do perfect pushups as I had written he does. In fact his pushups look quite strange.)
  • Enzo quote (with countrified accent that he sometimes adopts): “Ahm facin’ ma fears. It’s the only way.” All because we let him watch Goosebumps which gave him bad dreams so now he wants to got to bed wearing shinguards and armed with a large stick and plastic dagger.

And now can I just delete the seven pages?