this is an epic puke post

A week ago a tore my calf muscle while walking into my house.

For the sake of drama and excitement and just plan lack-of-suck I wish I could tell you I tore my calf muscle while rock climbing or chasing down a purse snatcher or something, but no, I tore it walking from my car to my house.


Around my ‘tween years, my dad became involved in the planning, building, and birth of a housing co-op. I spent summers here until I was 11, when my sister and I moved in with him full time. My dad was an aging hippy, and many of the other co-op board members were too. The co-op was filled with an eclectic mix of creative types: musicians, artists, photographers, crusaders. There was drama, and at times it was a bit too close-knit of a community, but for the most part, it was a pretty cool place to live.