My Monster

I'm currently reading Anjelica Huston's second memoir, Watch Me, which has prompted me to Google image search old Vogue covers and take a video tour of her childhood home in Ireland, which was purchased by Merv Griffin and turned into a hotel at some point, but it's now a private home again so I can't plan a trip there I guess. 

I wouldn't consider myself an Anjelica Huston fan -- I never gave her much thought and only really know her work in Wes Anderson films and of course, The Addams Family movie. In Huston's first memoir (A Story Lately Told) she mentions she loved watching the TV show as a kid. That'd be like me playing Allie Lowell in a Kate & Allie movie. (Still a possibility.)

Anyway, I'm enjoying reading about someone else's life, and it's reminding me about the importance of journaling, which I never actually do but how else can one remember details like which celebrity friends attended that dinner party in 1974? 

Speaking of memoirs, I think I'm going to adopt the name Cheryl Strayed gave her hiking pack for the hill upon which I now reside. Last night my friend Annie asked me about where I live, and I told her it was on top of the one of the biggest hills I've ever walked up. She said, "Oh, what's the name of the hill?" and without really thinking I said I was just calling it The Monster. I climbed The Monster three times yesterday, and this morning I woke up with burning calves. I'm sure I'll get used to it. I just have to. 

My goal today is to only climb The Monster twice. I already did one summit after a walk down to the coffee shop and a stroll around the flatter parts of this neighborhood. I made a late breakfast (and I learned that I have to light the stove manually in this apartment, which is a little scary for me) and am thinking about taking some mode of public transportation somewhere I haven't been before, like maybe where I see the Golden Gate Bridge up close. Then I'll meet my friend Mallory for dinner and I'll climb The Monster when I'm ready to call it a day.