I feel the need to tell you about my elementary school lunches.

Because I was talking to my friend today, about the evolution of vegan cheese, and alternative meat substances, because we were in Downward Dog, and all the blood was rushing to our heads.

This is a very West Los Angeles situation I’m describing.

Step-by-Step Instructions:

A. Remove from packaging. Chances are you can skip this step. Dustpans are one of those special objects that are not bound by packaging. They come as they are. So you can skip to step B.

Pro: They look pretty from certain angles.
Con: No one can agree on which angles.

No particle of dust would dare occasion to life and every speck of fingernail dirt is manicured to death in those matrimonial homes where attention to detail is a time-honored virtue and everything smells of the same multipurpose detergent, like bedsheets in sad hotels. Those houses are policed by unimpressed Virgos who massage their furniture with spit and wash their mopheads as frequently as their hair. If living inside a toothpaste tube were a social norm, those homeowners would be the forebearers of an all-white nation.

When my son was about three days old, I was still figuring out breast-feeding—how to do it, where to do it.

One of my worries, though, was our big shaggy Disney dog Guinness and how she would react to the baby. Guinness was my girl. She looked more like me than my own child—same shaggy brown hair, same brown eyes. She was the center of our attention for the eight years we’d had her, so I even stupidly bought a muzzle imagining her unwelcoming reaction to the baby.