Dear Bridget, I’m in a river that flows off of a cliff and I’m just holding on to the branch of a tree on the banks

Dear Bridget,
I’ve been taking a lot of walks lately. I took a walk with my friend who matches a stop sign:

I took a walk where I ended up sitting on a road that isn’t actually a road and looking at this in love couple sitting under a tree with their obedient dog at sunset like a painting:

And then as a continuation of my sunset walk-and-sit, it rained, so we ran, and then I ended up laying in the middle of the road that actually is a road like a steamy smudge. 

I feel empty, full, I feel kind of like a piece of paper or a sponge, and I just ate a carrot that tasted like a cigarette. 

Please eat a piece of pie in my honor soon because my life is crumbling like a cookie and I need to know that there are people still enjoying rhubarb and flaky crust in the world. I’m thinking if we ever open a diner we can serve a turkey sandwich with strawberry rhubarb jam and we can call it the “turkey Barbara” after your mom and on account of the “barb” part in rhubarb. 

I guess everyone feels like they live in a washing machine at this time of year. Spinning and tossing and swirling. 

A lady said to me today that you can wash leeks in the dishwasher rather than hand-washing them. She said it so matter-of-factly but I told her it doesn’t make any sense and that it would take way too long. She said that truth be told, she doesn’t own a dishwasher so she doesn’t really know, but it seems about right. I also doubt that she’s ever eaten a leek. 

Spend some extra time in the California sand for me when you get a chance. I’d appreciate it. 

Love always, 


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