Wherefore art thou, Monk-Monk?
I've been writing Ramshackle Glam for nearly ten whole years - which means that there is a LOT of good stuff hanging out in my archives. So each Friday, we'll be doing a little throwback to one of my personal favorites. This week's is by Erin Williams, the coauthor of The Big Activity Book For Anxious People, and the author of a stunning new graphic memoir, Commute.
by Erin Williams
I'm going to do one of Paintillio's custom paint-by-numbers pieces as a form of art therapy, and am considering this as the pic to use. I posted a few other contenders - plus some thoughts on the pure vanity/pure awesomeness of painting yourself - over on IG, and would be curious to hear your thoughts.
This article about Al Franken's exit from the Senate is an essential read - not to mention an extraordinary work of journalism. (The Case Of Al Franken, via The New Yorker.)
Oh excuse me GUESS WHAT IS AVAILABLE AT URBAN OUTFITTERS?
OK, so I know I literally just - like, just - wrote about how I'm *over* entertaining. But one of the great joys in my life these past few years has been going all-in with the kids' birthday parties. Last year we moved to LA only a couple of weeks before my son's birthday, so I gave myself a pass with that one...but my daughter is about to turn five and all the girl wants in life is a ridiculously cool birthday cake.
And so a ridiculously cool birthday cake is what she's (hopefully) going to get.
A ridiculously cool birthday cake, however, requires a theme. So far we've done mermaids, Moana, and rainbows, all of which my daughter suggested doing again...but come on. This is an OPPORTUNITY.
I recorded this interview with Leo Flowers for his mental health podcast on the same day that I published the post about my breakup...and to say it got interesting would be an understatement.
He - meaning the host of the podcast - did this. To a woman he was dating. Like, RECENTLY. So I think it's safe to say that I had a few questions to ask him.
Go ahead and give it a listen.
I’ve been writing recently about how my attitude towards entertaining has chilled out in the extreme these past few months. I’m sure I still have a fancy hors d’oeuvre recipe or two in me, but what I’ve discovered since removing virtually all of the fuss from my get-togethers with friends and neighbors is that that’s all it is: fuss. The point is to be with each other, and - especially when lots and lots of young children are involved - the easier we can make it to do that, the more we…do it.
Take the other night, for example: My neighbor Margo spontaneously invited us over to swim. I hesitated for a moment, because it was 4:30 PM, so not quite dinnertime, but also right in that sweet spot where I’d have to start making dinner soon or risk the kids being awake into the hour when Mom really needs to commence the bath-taking and watching of Handmaid’s Tale, which is - let’s be honest - unacceptable.
I've never been a huge fan of lasagna. I think that this dates back to a mild trauma when I was thirteen and announced that henceforth I would be a vegetarian, or at least until I changed my mind and wanted a hamburger one day (which did actually end up happening). My mother's reaction to this news was to completely ignore me and continue sneaking meat into meals anyway. She made her "special lasagna" frequently during this period, and it was a solid two years before she admitted that the "mushrooms" had, in fact, been...well, not mushrooms. (I was apparently not the most observant teenager.)
But apart from my mother's egregious conduct, I feel like lasagna should be more amazing than it usually is. I mean, it's layered pasta, cheese, and sauce. How could that not be absolutely perfect, every time? Except far too often I find lasagna has too much of one thing, and not enough of another. I want my lasagna to be red sauce-y, and cheesy, and otherwise uncomplicated by unnecessary additions like, say, peppers (BLECH).
For our girls' weekend in Tahoe, each of us was assigned a meal to prepare. This was Alisa's mom's friend Sherry's dish, and it was the best lasagna I have ever, ever, ever tasted (sorry, mom). The secret ingredient? A touch of cheddar cheese. I'm aware that that doesn't sound like a good idea, but this lasagna was transcendent. So you're going to have to trust me.
A shot of my lovely friend from our off-the-cuff collaboration yesterday
You may have noticed that when Francesca and I get together, we frequently do little photo shoots. Not for any especially good reason; just because we enjoy them - putting together a concept, finding a location, picking the right time of day for the lighting effect we're after. I enjoy the whole process; unlike creating photos for this site, our shoots in no way feel like "work." You may also have noticed that over the years, I have appeared in these shoots - or any shoots, for that matter - less, and less, and less.
I wonder sometimes whether it's from insecurity - and of course it is, I suppose, more than I'd like to admit - but it's also that my interests with regards to photography, and "aesthetics" more generally, have undergone a fairly dramatic shift these past few years.
I’ve been writing and talking a lot these past few weeks about vulnerability. Authenticity. And the realizations I’ve had about myself as a result of all this writing and talking have been pretty fucking humbling.
So. Because I cannot write or talk about anything else, I'm going to tell you what happened.
Listen to the podcast interview in which I discuss what I learned from this here.
Sometimes I read older posts of mine, and I can't remember having written them; it's the oddest thing. I remember the feelings, of course, but then I read the words, and it's like they were typed out by someone else. Someone who understood me intensely, yes, but certainly not me.
That's been happening a lot these past few days: I'm looking for a recipe, or a reference, and I happen across one of these older posts...and it feels less like a memory than like a letter from a friend, telling me everything will be okay.
One of the major things I miss about living close to my friend Erin is our little (and big) projects. We were just constantly deciding that we wanted to try things, and then doing them. All by ourselves. And they usually worked out! (I'd venture that our success rate has far more to do with Erin than with me, but I'm happy to bask in the residual glory.)
Like remember that time we just went ahead and transformed the exterior brick on my house?
