Allayna Nofs

At 5 AM my cats and my bladder woke me up. I got up to pee while Luna (my one year old kitten) yelled at me through the closed door, and then I tossed and turned through three more hours of sleep until 8:30 when I let myself start to stir.

It's a 4 shot kind of day, and by that I mean nothing in particular is happening, but I'm going to let caffeine fuel my day.

I can't decide which shorts to wear so I lay back down. I wonder if anybody else does this. "This doesn't fit right... this is wrinkled... where's my favorite shirt?" etc. 

I finally choose jeans but my wallet is missing. When I find it, I don my Vans with the holes in the big toes, one bigger than the other, and I leave the apartment.

It's bordering on muggy outside. No sun in sight, but I see a runner. Wish I'd brought my sunglasses. Wish my ankle hurt less so I could jog. Wish I had an extra 30 minutes to run to the farmers market, grab a big crusty loaf of bread, and run back home to make some toast before my therapy appointment.

I miss the green light to cross the street. I get nervous about getting coffee from ____. I almost always order the same thing - an iced mocha latte, with "regular” milk (I don’t know why I always say it like that) - but at ____ the baristas often don't mix the syrup. It's just the closest shop to me, and they sell the 20 oz. 

I heave a big sigh after the first sip. It's mixed well.

I have time so I walk across the street and take it to the benches where John and I sit on Wednesdays and Fridays. I watch the PPA lady put a ticket on this girl's Nissan. Someone sleeps on the bench across from me. They're dreaming. Students are walking through the square in black dresses and flip flops. Remnants of last night. The fruit stand is picked clean. It's very quiet. Still. 

They spelled my name wrong on the coffee. This happens all the time so I'm not surprised, but it makes me wonder. If people misspell your name so often that it becomes a constant, what does it mean? Probably nothing, but it’s a passing thought.

I walk back toward home and find that someone left the building door wide open. This pisses me off because obviously it's a hazard. Someone might walk right in. I don't know if people think about these things, but I do. I'm sorry that I don't care why they left it open, but I shut it.

Frat row is quiet, and it's four blocks to the park so I think I can get there and back for bread with enough time to spare before therapy. I guess it's black walnut time because as I walk I realize they're all over the street. There's a story about my grandfather and black walnuts but I can't remember the details of it. I'll have to ask my dad later. 

When I get to the market, the bread guy tells me he's not open yet but I can't wait for him so I settle for my mushroom stop instead. My friend Clara is there and they've got chicken of the woods today, all freshly foraged. I take a bunch of those and a bushel of yellow oysters, snap this sweet photo of Clara and head home knowing I'll have to come back again later for the rest of my shopping.

~Therapy interlude~

I wish I had a front porch to sweep on Saturday mornings... I think about this as I walk back to the park, admiring people's plants and porches.

My favorite part of market days is the surprises. Running into friends is lovely, and it makes me feel like this is my home. I'm about to hit my three year anniversary in Philadelphia, and running into friends or acquaintances reminds me that I'm not just a visitor here. At the market I got my bread, bought myself flowers, popped by a stand for an Ethiopian platter, and snagged a vintage denim skirt, courtesy of dear Rachel, a darling surprise addition to my day. I brought my loot back home and devoured the Ethiopian platter, cold.

In the middle of the street, I made friends with my neighbor. He asks me about best practices in making friends and I express my feelings about how difficult it can be to make new connections in your 20s. My best advice is to be forward and approach people. 

As I think about rain, I sit at the window and play guitar. I am writing a new song. The sky grows dark enough and it does rain. My car has been leaking from what I imagine is the sunroof so I go outside in my raincoat to check for flooding, and find none. I have to admit that I almost never wash my car, so I took the rain as an opportunity and as it poured on me I did a once-over with a towel. Obviously I returned to my apartment sopping, but it was refreshing. Worth it.

At 3 PM, I decided to go buy myself a pair of sneakers. Leaving, I noticed it was colder than it had been before the rain. Wearing my flannel was a good idea. I was nervous that the rain wouldn't hold out, as I walked the whole way to the store. I realize I missed the Chinatown arena protest because I see people wearing No Arena in Chinatown t-shirts. That's totally my bad, but let me say that I don't think we need an arena in the middle of the city, especially not in Chinatown, full stop.

I tried on 8 pairs of sneakers and tried to make small talk while the associate stayed patient despite my indecision. This guy was a gem. My ankle injury has been causing me a lot of pain, and it's time for a new pair of sneakers, so I wanted to make the right choice. Ultimately I ended up choosing the very first pair he gave me. New Balances. I have no allegiances. I didn't want purple ones so I opted to have a black pair shipped to me.

After walking back and feeling the wrath of my ankle AND my (empty) stomach I knew it was time to eat. I fed the cats first (because royalty always eats first) and put on Sex and the City while I started to parboil the chicken of the woods I'd grabbed from the farmer's market. I found a beetle in one of them! Straight from the woods, amen. I put him into the sink and then I lost him so I'm sad to say I wasn't able to rescue him but I said a prayer for him before I threw the chunky mushrooms into the boiling water. Meanwhile, I mixed up some batter to fry them with. Flour, cornstarch, salt and pepper, thyme, cayenne, and umami seasoning (if you care). Post-parboil, I fried up the lot and made a very lazy sauce, honey mustard and hot sauce... which tasted fine. They were delicious considering it was my first time cooking and eating them.

Post-dinner I chose to prioritize my rest so I smoked some weed and spent the remainder of my night in bed watching Sex and the City, chatting with a friend, and crying. I'm PMSing, what can I say? Sometimes it feels really good to let some air out of the balloon.

I like to say that I keep my Saturdays sacred. A space to allow anything to unfold as it will. Room for surprises to show up, for feelings to take hold, for the spirit to move me however and wherever it will. I’d say this was one of those Saturdays. A day well-spent, full of a little bit of everything.

Allayna Nofs is a loudmouth multi-hyphenate born in Northern New Jersey. She moved to Philadelphia for a boy and instead discovered many beautiful communities to sink her teeth into. She now runs a poetry series out of West Philadelphia called Blossoming, and plays on the South Philly 95ers, a sandlot baseball team. If she's not at the park admiring the trees, she might be out drinking coffee by the river, or wasting time on Instagram at @anofsaid. A collection of her written words can be found on Substack, at www.allaynanofs.substack.com.