Photo Fred Lyon.

About fifteen years ago, I moved into an old apartment in San Francisco’s Western Addition, where you can see the fog line roll in from the Bay. There’s plenty of room, but the walls are so thin you have to ignore neighbors’ footfalls, dinner conversations, sexual habits.

For years, I wondered why my upstairs neighbor was leaving her cell phone on the floor. It would vibrate against the floorboards and resonate through my apartment.

When she finally moved out and someone new took her place, I was perplexed that he had the same habit. I mentioned it in frustration to my fiancé who had recently moved in, and he knitted his brow.

“Do you mean the foghorns?” He said.

“Oh,” I said. “…You can hear the foghorns from here.”

Hi! How’ve you been? I felt like playing along with Pip’s Taking Stock list for this month, you? Taking stock for October.

Making : A tiny wooden nutcracker. Painting it, anyway. I’m a sucker for those Michaels holiday craft kits, man. Let me know if you need a pom-pom ornament.

Cooking : Colorful, healthy stuff. This Rainbow Salad Bowl with Cilantro Lime Hummus is really good.

Drinking : Tung Ting green tea from Red Blossom. It’s my favorite oolong.

Reading: I’m finally getting to Shrill by Lindy West.

Wanting: More long, cozy sweaters with the kind of arms you can pull your hands into while you’re waiting somewhere outside.

Looking: At old stuff on Etsy. Like this stripey straw hat, these enormous black pearls, and this very pink Lanvin dress.

Playing: That game where one person starts a doodle, and then another person finishes it. We spent hours playing with Hank at little outdoor tables in Venice. We just got back from a trip to Italy! It was one of the nicest trips I’ve ever taken.

Deciding: On Thanksgiving plans. For some reason, my Thanksgivings are cursed unless someone else plans them. I can arrive to someone else’s Thanksgiving with a hell of a cheese plate in tow, but I cannot make one go on my own. After a few years of relative disasters, one year I just bought a damn prefab meal so nothing could go too far awry. And then the pre-cooked turkey I picked up Thanksgiving morning was somehow still frozen inside. Maybe we’ll order one of these smoked turkeys this year. Or an American amount of takeout Chinese.

Wishing: I was at a lakeside campfire with the aforementioned cozy sweater a good book.

Enjoying: Vacation memories.Turns out gondolas live up to the hype.

Waiting: To pack thermoses of warm boozy drinks and go make our holiday wreath.

Liking: My kids. Hank is turning out so sweet and friendly, and Ozzy is a little charmer. I’m so glad I got to be a mom again.

Wondering: Where I put everything. We still need to fully unpack.

Loving: These glass eyes. I bought them because they’re little works of art, and they were $10, which we can all agree is a screaming deal for glass eyes.

Pondering: The myriad things people think they know about Joan Didion. With this new documentary coming out, everyone is publishing all these opinions about her, and most of them read so strangely to me. Like, I do not recognize the author they’re discussing. Huh.

Considering: Stone Fruit! I bought a couple of very convincing, charming fake oranges at the back of a tiny souvenir shop in Florence, and googled them when I got home. They were so heavy, and it turns out they’re carved from stone. It’s a whole thing.

Buying: Groceries for the week. We’re trying to eat all vegan this week as an experiment, and there’s such a learning curve to changing how you eat. Making the menu and grocery list took forever.

Watching: “The Good Place.” Have you seen this? It’s a comedy about the afterlife. It’s so nice to watch TV that isn’t trying to make you anxious.

Hoping: It isn’t too cold at Hank’s soccer practice.

Marveling: At the world’s finest Panama Hat. It was made by Simon Espinal, and he won’t make another as nice because it’s too hard on his eyes. It’s $25K, and the buyer hopes it will end up in a museum.

Needing: To take off this bra. Always.

Questioning: How to set aside time for some projects.

Smelling: This new LaVanila deodorant I’m trying. It smells like soap and is supposed to not kill you slowly over time, which is cool.

Wearing: Cashmere pants I got at the flea market for $20. They make me feel so fancy.

Following: All these sexual harassment allegations. It’s surreal that people are finally facing consequences.

Thinking: I want to be on the team that helps choose Oprah’s Favorite Things every year. Maybe I’ll do some gift guides this year, they’re so fun to shop for.

Admiring: This camping embroidery pattern.

Sorting: All the little jars of food we brought back from Italy. Italian canned and preserved food tastes like actual food.

Getting: Tired of jet lag. I’m too lax about converting, so it takes me like two weeks to change time zones. I’m still waking up at 3 a.m. a week after returning home

Bookmarking: The Gro Company Gro-Clock Sleep Trainer. We’re about to switch to a toddler bed, and this simplified clock supposedly helps kiddos know when to get out of bed.

Coveting: I collect busts, and these are beautiful. This one too.

Disliking: That we didn’t have time to carve pumpkins this year. I love homemade roasted pumpkin seeds. Next year for sure.

Opening: My Italy travel journal to fill in all the blank pages. The main thing I miss about traveling without kids is the time you have to document everything.

Giggling: Nervously at this upsetting blind-clown cookie jar.

Feeling: Cozy and quiet.

Snacking: On hazelnuts. I keep a bag in my nightstand. Though the Halloween candy in the next room is audible.

Hearing: My monthly playlists are up on Spotify if you want to have a look and/or judge me by my musical taste. Tove Styrke’s “Say My Name” is a recent favorite.

I’m excited about Fall. You? I hope you’re doing well.

In Paris, we pass a toddler in the stroller with her mother’s purse, an exuberant square of red lipstick around her mouth. She shoves her tiny fist outside, bouncing the unfurled lipstick tube like a drum major’s baton. Her mother’s eyes widen.

Man takes drone out for a sunset flight, drone gets shot down

I read this article and did a slow clap for the shooter. As you know, I love a robot, and still the drone situation is beginning to chafe. Hear me out.

A few months ago we were staying at a hotel, and our room had an attached private patio surrounded by a high wall. Ozzy ran out into the patio after our bath, so I chased after him in my altogether because… private patio.

I’m standing in the silence for a minute waiting for Ozzy to finish playing with rocks, making sure he doesn’t shove one in his windpipe, when I notice this annoying whine. It’s sort of like a broken industrial fan, and the sound is getting louder and louder. Finally, I look up and see a creepy-ass photo drone hovering over naked me and my naked child.

Hear me, friends. If I’d had a BB-gun on hand, I’d have dropped that Minority Report Mosquito out of the sky like:

And then I would don a robe, gather the broken toaster pieces and pop them in the pool.

Sorry about that $3K, bro. Find another hobby.

We totally bounded, you guys. (Bound? Boned? Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s boned.) Last time we went to Disneyland, we dressed on an Alice in Wonderland theme.

Brad was the Mad Hatter.

I was one of the playing cards.

Brad made Hank a Cheshire Cat shirt, tooth by iron-on tooth.

Gah! This kid. Ozzy was the white rabbit, minus any anxiety about punctuality.

I’m joining in Pip’s tradition of taking stock this month, and she has a blank list you can copy over if you want to join too.

Making : A New Year’s garland with tinsel tassel and champagne corks from celebrations in my life. All the corks were in a box with tags on them and it was starting to be less “celebration collection!” and more “why do you have this box of trash?”

Cooking : Vegan oatmeal, and peanut butter cookies. Brad is allergic to eggs and dairy, so I’ve been using flax seed as an egg substitute and soy products in my baking. I can’t tell the difference, and Brad is totally still alive thanks to hippie bullshit. Well done, hippies.

Drinking : Boozy root beer called Not Your Father’s Root Beer. It’s delicious, if weirdly named. Stereotypically speaking, old-timey dads were full-time drunk. Maybe the brewer is the son of a pastor or something? In which case I say, “Not your father’s root beer, dude.”

Reading: Atlas Obscura, a compendium of unusual places. It’s a delight, except it’s too big to read in bed. The corner of the cover kept digging into my temple because I was resting half the book on my face to ease thumb strain. So I ended up buying the e-book version too. It’s my first e-book, so mixed feelings.

Trawling: Junk shops for old hats. I’d like to be a not-crazy hat wearer. I feel the crazies have taken all the hat wearing for themselves, which is a shame because hats used to be so respectable and discreet. Now it’s like “Look-a me! I’m a’wearin’ a hat!” This is what I imagine your average modern-day hat wearer thinks to herself before she leaves the house to go anywhere besides a wedding. Is this how it’s going to feel to read real books in public twenty years from now? Futurism bums me out sometimes.

Wanting: Time alone. Always and always. Mothering a toddler is a contact sport.

Looking: At the People magazine the girl a few rows up is reading. I’m writing this on a plane. Why did I not buy a People magazine?

Deciding: On travel plans for next year. I prefer to be spontaneous, but it’s too expensive. A friend on Facebook recently mentioned that an airline was having a flash sale, and I scored $500 round trip tickets to Paris for our anniversary. Now I’ve vowed to sign up for low-fare alerts on everything and tell all my Facebook people too.

Listening: To Dan Auerbach’s “When the Night Comes” because @AnilDash asked Twitter, “What’s a song that was not a hit (or that hasn’t become a standard) that you wish everyone could hear?” and that was mine. Good thread.

Buying: Tiny things for the baby to clench in his fists while he bops around. Ozzy loves choke-ables. He’s kept track of this minuscule banana from a Minions Lego set for the better part of a year, and every so often he offers you a bite, then pretends to nibble it himself. I find tiny dog figurines pressed in his hand while he’s sleeping. They leave little dog-shaped imprints in his palm.

Watching: Divorce, the new Sarah Jessica Parker show. Pretty good.

Marvelling: I literally learned on this trip that people in snow scenes in the movies breathe into their hands not to warm them, but to warm the air they’re breathing. Because the air gets so cold it hurts to breathe in, which is not a thing I had ever considered. I had this experience and did not know what to do, until a nice Muslim cab driver who was originally from Africa (where it is much warmer) explained it to me. Helpful. Then we discussed how he had two wives in different countries. He was the first real, live polygamist I’ve met and I was very excited. I said “YOU HAVE TWO FAMILIES! WHAT?! Please tell me all the things.” And then he did, and I refrained from asking inappropriate questions, because respect for other religions is the cornerstone upon which our country is built, and because most of my real questions were about sexy times.

Cringing: Because I said “you too!” twice to different gate agents who wished me a good flight.

Needing: A good puffer jacket that doesn’t look dumb. Minneapolis was cold AF, and I know nothing about dressing for inconvenient snow. Suggestions welcome.

Questioning: Whether I have enough spouses.

Smelling: Everyone else’s breath. And Pringles.

Wearing: Compression socks and this dress that’s actually giant cozy sweatshirt.

Noticing: That the girl next to me accepted the middle seat when some dude took her window. Then she spent the rest of the flight pretending to read while he tried to chat her up. They both speak Spanish and all she’s saying is “Ah. Si,si,si,si.” with the occasional “Claro.” thrown in for variety. Sir. Shut up and enjoy your stolen seat.

Love,
Maggie