We spent the weekend in Carmel, where you can pass an entire day chatting with strangers about their Labradors and reading The New Yorker on the beach. Strolling into town for a latte, you’ll note a tide of applique sweaters and track suits (many of them on the Labradors). We took long neighborhood walks; donned fleece pullovers and played frisbee on the beach; drank wine out of red plastic cups around a bonfire.

Last night, we drove back to the city. As we pulled up to our apartment, I remembered leaving the house a few days ago to find a man pissing near our front stoop.

No place like home.

From White Oleander by Janet Fitch:

“I crawled under the bed, pulled out the sack of her letters, some packets thin as a promise, others fat like white koi.”

Hipster Knock-Knock:

Knock Knock

Who’s there?

I can’t believe you’ve never heard this joke before.

Me: I’ll have a cup of tea.

Barrista: Grande?

Me: How big is grande?

B: Medium big.

Me: Then what’s the big called?

B: Vente.

Me: How big is Vente?

B: (Points)

Me: Whoa. Way too big. What’s the little one?

B: Short.

Me: I’ll have that one.

Peet’s Coffee offers small, medium, and large cups. I go there because they don’t make me think before I’ve had my caffeine.

I’m a girl who digs a good system. Therefore, I was disproportionately excited to come across this method of opening pomegranates without staining yourself and your kitchen.

And as long as you’re opening pomegranates, make this guacamole immediately. It has pears, grapes, and pomegranates in it. I know it sounds odd, but it’s so good it’ll make your tastebuds ache.