Adventure, Romance, Total Confidence
This week I visited an Orange Theory, and the thing about visiting Orange Theory, is that they want to know your goals. And saying “general fitness, having fun,” is not enough of a goal, you need to be more specific, and then they’re going to ask that you be even more specific, so I quoted Kate Sanders from The Lizzie McGuire Movie and said, “adventure, romance, total confidence,” and gang, the joke did not land. Then I said the goal was for my friend to win the giveaway that that particular location is putting on, and that was satisfactory.
Anyway, I had a really great week and hope you did too. I hope you win a giveaway this week, whether from Orange Theory, or somewhere else.
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This sentence now has links to the my instagram, and old issues of the newsletter.
Number One: This stunner of a piece on 9/11 and the way it affected one family
If you never ever click links, or read the articles I recommend, I would implore you to abandon those principles and read this retrospective on 9/11. It’s written in just the most gut-wrenching, yet comforting way. You’ll will have to carve out some time for it, but it is so absolutely worth it.
This is one of the many things you learn about mourning when examining it at close range: It’s idiosyncratic, anarchic, polychrome. A lot of the theories you read about grief are great, beautiful even, but they have a way of erasing individual experiences. Every mourner has a very different story to tell.
In talking with Bob Sr., something heartbreaking and rudely basic dawned on me: September 11 may be one of the most-documented calamities in history, but for all the spools of disaster footage we’ve watched, we still know practically nothing about the last moments of the individual dead. It’s strange, when you think about it, that an event so public could still be such a punishing mystery. Yet it is, and it is awful—the living are left to perseverate, to let their imaginations run amok in their midnight corrals.
One thing you don’t say to a person who’s mourning, Jen tells me, is that they’re going to be okay. She might have added: Nor do you say that to a depressed person. Depression does that—convinces you that you are never going to be okay.
Number Two: Trader Joe’s Lemon Ricotta Ravioli
In general, Trader Joe’s ravioli is one of my main food groups - easy to prep, easy to re-heat, easy to pair with vegetables. The lemon ricotta ravioli is like the dessert of pastas, it is so yummy - really, it tastes like a lemon gelato.
Number Three: Hair clips
These clips rule. They’re great if you have thick hair, they’re great if you have thin hair, they’re great if you have long hair, they’re great if you have short hair. I know this because I was passing them out like candy last night, a girl does not need 12 banana clips. They looked great on all of my friend’s heads and have a nice matte finish that provides grip while still being breezy.
Number Four: The Car Mom and Mediocre Watercolor
I am neither a mom, nor in the market for a car, but I love following The Car Mom on Instagram. Kelly reviews cars for moms (the CX-7 is NOT going to fit a rear facing car seat with the drivers seat all the way back!!) (the Honda Pilot has GREAT car seat anchors!!) and I find it so soothing somehow. Maybe it’s because she’s an influencer in a lane that I have zero aspirations of joining? Like maybe I find fashion/faith/writing/wellness people I don’t know in real life exhausting to follow, because if I really put my back into it, I could, but I’m not going to. But I’m never going to be on a car lot demonstrating how the Mockingbird Stroller fits into the back of a Ford Explorer, so it’s fun to watch someone else do it.
My other favorite follow right now is my friend Rachel’s watercolor account, @mediocre_watercolor - the account name is officially a misnomer. Rachel is so talented, and it’s been really special to watch her skills grow over the last year. Her style is unique, and I’m so grateful to officially have a piece of her work in my home. Rachel is also a five star friend.
Number Five: My house
The thing about being a home owner, I’ve learned in my three weeks, is that every four days, you go to Home Depot and spend $120 on things that could wait, but not that long, so you might as well do it now. Home Depot, I’ve also learned, has a very flexible return policy, and they will take your torn up box of just loose parts back as long as you have the original form of payment and the barcode is in tact.
The last few weeks I have been filled with what can only be described as a Wendell Berry kind of admiration for my one and a half lots in Northeast Johnson County. I was really afraid that I was just going to absolutely hate this house, but I love it so much. It’s small. It will always be small because it’s always going to be filled with people.
I’m obsessed with the way my Crate and Barrel wine glasses look on the open shelving. The counter tops still make me sort of mad, but not as mad as they used to. There’s a real grasshopper-spider colony in the garage, but there’s no power trip quite like the power garage door button-press. Friday night I found out that the windows in my bedroom are not in fact water-tight, and frankly I have nothing redeeming to say about that situation, but I am grateful to have more beach towels than a girl needs. Between two and six men who only wear shirts 40% of the time live next door. Is the Kia a girlfriend’s car or is a roommate’s car? Watch this space to find out.