DIARY

Five Things

July 6, 2018

Before we begin - on a lighter note - the leggings pictured here are Niyama Sol's "endless" leggings, and they're going to get their own post because if you are a yoga person or a leggings person or just a person, you need these.

Now.

A couple of weeks ago, after I published this post, I got a message from a reader telling me about her dad. Her dad, she wrote, had developed this interesting habit: He'd come up with five things that were virtually guaranteed to make him feel really, really good, and committed himself to doing at least one of those things each and every day of his life. (One of them is eating ice cream, so if it hits midnight and he hasn't done any of the other things that day, he will get himself out to a Thrifty and get a cone in his hand STAT, which makes him sort of a hero.)

DIARY

An Update, But Not Really

June 25, 2018

Before I launch back into writing about our (first) bathroom makeover (which is FINALLY finished, and oh my god that took forever) and the best ballet flats out there and, I don't know, chicken, or whatever...I figured I should probably address the elephant in the room.

I don't know if we're going to stay in this house. Or even in this city.

I don't know anything.

DIARY

The Ones Who Catch You

June 22, 2018

A few years ago - shortly before my daughter was born - a friend of mine told me that she had cancer.

When I say “a friend of mine,” I mean someone I cared about; someone I had special, beautiful memories with. Someone who I thought was smart, and interesting. Someone who’d just had a baby a couple of months earlier, making her diagnosis worse than the worst thing imaginable.

But by then, we weren’t especially tied into each others’ lives. In the old days we’d mostly been casual, going-out-type friends, and in the years since we’d grown up and out of bars and parties and late nights in the company of dartboards, and we’d emailed only occasionally. When the dust settled it turned out we didn't really have much in common at all, and we lost touch. I didn’t even know what she did for a living, or her partner’s name.

DIARY

In The Middle

May 29, 2018

I have a lipoma. This sounds worse than it is - it's technically a tumor, yes, but it's not cancer; it's just a "fatty globule" (hot) the size of a walnut. It's tucked underneath my left armpit, sort of towards my back. I can get it removed, but there's really no reason to other than vanity.

David Sedaris has a lipoma. So does my father-in-law. A couple of weeks ago I had an extended conversation about lipomas with a friend who runs a tattoo parlor in Los Angeles. He has one, too.

All of a sudden, lipomas are popping up everywhere in my life. According to my doctor, they're pretty common in middle age.

DIARY

Putting It On My Succulent

May 8, 2018

I may need more than one.

Francesca has, as of late, been using the word "manifest" in casual conversation more than I'm reasonably able to handle. (And I have told her as much, e.g. "I love you very much, but if you keep telling me to manifest I will put you on mute.")

Look, I had a meditation coach for awhile. I spent my high school years practicing Wicca, and really wanted to buy a massive, perfectly round crystal I saw in a store the other day. I am, in other words, not completely sans woo elements in my own personality. (And please be aware that I use the term "woo" - as in "woo-woo" - with a big spoonful of affection; I respect and appreciate that people explore their inner selves in various ways that sure, may appear a little odd to others, but that work for them. Yay for spirituality and self-exploration. Yay for crystals and meditation. Just please don't make me manifest.)

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