Trust Your Gut

Who needs green grass? - My house - Salt Lake City - Sept. 2018

I've been a huge fan lately of killing time by writing 500-word short stories. This is especially convenient when I have little to do at work because I still appear to be working. Suckers! Convenient when your pass time is similar to your work time. This particular story came out of a writing challenge with my guy. My story is slightly morbid, but in a fun way. You know? The topic was Origin and the length was 500 words or less and the time with which to write it in was repeatedly extended and go!

Meticulously placed rocks - Salt Lake City - Sept. 2018

Landscaper came yesterday - Salt Lake City - Sept. 2018

Trust Your Gut

By Leah Saycich

The cookies showed up unannounced but not unwelcome. Cookies weren’t her favorite treat by any means, not even close. Apple cobbler, strawberry shortcake, her mom’s cheesecake, a cannoli, eclairs, ice cream sundaes, peach pie, and fruit tarts all came before any cookie on her list of favorite treats. This particular cookie, the classic chocolate chip, didn’t even come before shortbread, oatmeal cookies, raspberry thumbprints, madeleines, and frosted sugar cookies. She wondered how they became the classic treat to bequeath upon others. But, again, the cookies weren’t unwelcome.

With one hand on the door and one on the frame, she stared down at them lying uncomfortably squished and stacked onto a single red paper plate. Some cookies were no longer flat but more of a downhill slope after resting half on the edge of the plate. They should have let them cool first. 

She noticed the stark contrast her West Elm jute doormat had against the cheap red paper and saran wrap loose and stuck to itself. As she picked up the heavy plate—they always weighed more than they appeared to—she had to remind herself it was a kind gesture, the cookies.

But kind as it was, the origin of the cookies themselves remained a mystery. What sort of person leaves cookies on another’s doorstep and doesn’t leave a note. It’ll be humiliating when a few weeks from now at a neighborhood barbecue she felt obligated to attend the bestower says in front of three other neighbors, “I hope you enjoyed the cookies!” And she’s left scrambling together a thank you three weeks late, and not in the proper fashion with a thank you card, for cookies that were probably made with frozen Nestle cookie dough.

But that wasn’t the only thing that worried her. If she didn’t know where the cookies came from, were they safe to eat? She wanted to eat them, of course, even if they weren’t among her favorites. The crispy on the outside and soft on the inside three-bite delight sprinkled with the perfect amount of chocolate chips, or were those chocolate chunks, to cookie ratio. The longer she looked, the more appetizing the cookies became.

She decided the origin of the cookies didn’t matter. It was a safe neighborhood after all. She unwrapped the plate like it was Christmas morning, tugging a bit too hard and a bit too fast—her eagerness getting the best of her.

Two bites in and her delight turned to repulsion. Something was very wrong. This was not how a chocolate chip cookie should taste. She looked closer and found it wasn’t a chocolate chip cookie at all but a snickerdoodle with walnuts(?). As her throat began to swell in allergic protest, she crumbled to the floor. The anaphylactic shock was setting in before she could reach help. So, there she lies on her itchy jute mat dreaming of all her favorite treats that would never leave her to perish on her own doorstep.

Hide and Seek - Salt Lake City - Sept. 2018

Trees for bangs - Salt Lake City - Sept. 2018

See ya later - Salt Lake City - Sept. 2018

I've taken up morning walks lately. Since moving to Salt Lake, I walk like 90% less than I did in SF. And not only did I feel unhealthy, antsy and just generally lazy, I also absolutely love walking and looking at my surroundings. So I decided to start walking in the mornings when it's actually cool enough out that I don't sweat my entire body weight of water. And there was a beautiful time period where I would say hi to a family of snails playing (or so I assumed) in the water of an early sprinkler, but they don't come out as much as they used to. Looks like I'm going insane. But seriously, have you seen a baby snail ride on the back of a larger snail?! Add it to the "To Do" list. 

Is the house crooked or am I? - Salt Lake City - Sept. 2018

The house not on a hill - Salt Lake City - Sept. 2018

The photos of the houses are the houses I see on my walks. They're all unique and beautiful in their own way. One house always has its front door open in the morning. Although I never see anyone in or around it. Another has two lab puppies they very trustingly let play freely in the front yard. And one has two plastic lawn chairs on the driveway where an old man and his wife sit and relax at the end of the day. I sometimes walk in the evenings too. That is how I know that detail.

Lawn over living space - Salt Lake City - Sept. 2018

Lay low - Salt Lake City - Sept. 2018

P.S. I'm returning to SF. I'll miss you Salt Lake houses. But also, where are all the people?