Love letters to life

The last 36 hours have been a complete circus, friends - I feel like I've screwed up more than I've succeeded at, and I'm so scattered I hardly know which way the sun is shining from...maybe because it's one of those rare Norcal rainy days, which is just adding to my general sense of glumness. 

That said, the whole point of these love letters to life is to find the little things that make life so good, and there have been many little bright spots in this week of general discombobulation, such as...

- starting yoga back up for spring quarter and a: my wrist is totally rehabbed after a few weeks off, and b: I held a standing pigeon pose on BOTH sides for a full 30 seconds each! Small victories!

- kitchen victories: these coconut curry chicken meatballs, which Dave and I devoured on Tuesday night. So good. 

- this precious little piece of Minnesota, my birthday gift from Kelsie, which I have barely taken off since she came to visit!

- new music c/o Dave, who has excellent taste: Streelight Manifesto, a ska-punk band (I know, who even AM I these days?!)...their album "The Hands That Thieve" has been on heavy rotation for the last 24 hours. 

- minor-league hockey on Wednesday in San Jose - Dave and Laura have decided to be hardcore Barracudas fans and I am happy to come along for the ride just for the sheer hilarity of it all. 

- best of all, last-minute buzzer beater victories for Notre Dame women's basketball (Arike Ogunbowale is my HERO!) and, last night, hockey against Michigan (boo! hiss!)...so glad to see my alma mater pulling these wins off in the most exciting and heart-stopping way possible. 

Happy Friday, campers - here's to the weekend! 

Weird things my co-workers do in our two-stall bathroom...

The office I've been spending most of my time at lately is about five minutes from campus, a mid-seventies research park owned by Stanford that is in sore need of updates (or of a "tear it down and start over again" update, let's be honest). One of the biggest bugbears with the space is that the bathroom on the floor I work on is a two-stall situation - one with the toilet and sink and all right in the stall, and one where you wash your hands outside the stall itself - this is relevant, I promise! 

The key issue is that my workgroup is heavily dominated by females - a circumstance I definitely need to discuss further here at some point, because it's the first time in my professional life that that's ever been the case. And for a group that is at least 85% female, a two-stall situation just isn't enough. Especially when colleagues of mine take up one stall doing the weirdest things. All of these situations have happened in the nine months I've worked here, and it's gotten so hilarious and left me so incredulous that I had to document it just for shits (hahaha bathroom humor!) and giggles:  

-  Giving oneself a full blowout, complete with curling iron action

- Doing a series of sun salutations, yogic breathing and all

- Having a parent-teacher conference - flipping frequently back and forth between Mandarin and English - about one's son's poor reading performance

- Listening to a "Bachelor" podcast, without headphones, while (I presume) doing one's business

- Facetiming one's dog and dog-walker to supervise the afternoon walk of said dog

- Trying on tops that were delivered to the office rather than one's home

- Having heated debates across the two stalls about the methodology used to value digicurrency

- Painting one's nails - with a fast-drying polish, which apparently makes workplace manicures acceptable

Writing all of this down - and I'm sure I've missed a few things just out of forgetfulness - has me giggling to myself in my cube...highly necessary as I stare down the barrel of a migraine and a workday that I was convinced was Friday! Alas! Happy Thursday, campers! 

101 in 1001 #78: Send a care package.

One of my favorite things to do in the whole world is to send cards/give gifts, especially presented prettily. Wrapping paper is my kryptonite. I regularly black out in Papersource (it's not my fault, everything they have is JUST SO GOOD). I have a minor addiction to good stationery (gotta love thank-you notes, monograms, and heavy, fancy envelopes!), and have had fun practicing calligraphy on and off for almost a year now. 

So when this item caught my eye on my 101 in 1001, I noodled it around a bit. Who to send a care package to? Kelsie, doing battle daily with 26 kindergarteners? Kaitlin, suffering through  a winter storm-heavy Boston winter? Hannah, maybe in time for the "Bachelor" finale? And then, while in Sonoma with my parents for my birthday, I saw the absolute perfect gift for my little brother in a boutique in St. Helena. That settled it - a care package for Jonathan. 

My sweet yiddle brudder has been having kind of a dickens of a time of it lately - a job he's not in love with, living in Detroit, adjusting to the whole "post college, make friends, starter career" thing. He's been an absolute champ through it all, and kept a great attitude despite some setbacks and less-than-awesome aspects of the whole thing. And I give him a TON of credit for that - I was definitely nowhere near as positive and optimistic at his age as Ernst & Young took continual hot, steamy dumps on my life. 

Jonathan likes to fancy himself a gourmand - his affinity for all things fine-wine-and-dining cracks me up on the regular. What better gifts, then, than "The Hungoevr Cookbook," which cracked me up on initial leaf-through, and a bar of the richest dark chocolate by Chef Thomas Keller, one of his idols, of The French Laundry fame? (It cracks me up because I know that he won't actually eat the chocolate - it'll end up on display on his bar cart or something equally ridiculous and totally Jonathan, and I love that.) The fun cocktail napkins were part of one of the aforementioned Papersource blackouts, and the card seemed like a great, well-timed little word of encouragement. 

And I thought I was done...until I started texting with Emily on seeing the preview for STARZ's new adaptation of "Sweetbitter," by Stephanie Danler. Em and I have very similar taste in TV and, for the most part, books, and I was surprised she hadn't already honed in on "Sweetbitter." Knowing she would love it as much as I did, I couldn't not pick up a copy for her, along with a ridiculously cute "Binge-Watching Kit" for when the show premieres (May 6! Mark your calendars!). The champagne bears were a last-minute addition to tie the card in - both also spoils of the Papersource blackout that produced Jonathan's napkins. 

And there you have it - all that remained was to package it all up in pretty tissue, (spend way too much to) ship it, and call this one a day! I think it's so fun to get mail that isn't just credit card offers, bills, and grocery store circulars...hopefully the sibbies agree. 

I was so thrilled that they both really loved the surprise...Jonathan actually sent a nice text instead of a meme for once: 

And Em shared hers on her Instastory (Follow her @emmykatie702 for amazing hand lettering that will make you so awed at her creativity!): 

Gratifying, and always fun to do something unexpected and nice. Isn't getting actual mail so much more exciting than just bills and circulars?! 

For more 101 in 1001, head here...and if I have your address, keep an eye on the mail - apparently Papersource's power over me is greater and more terrible than I ever realized! 

Bookworm: March 2018

The library was like something out of a good dream, if you're the kind of person who dreams about libraries, which I am...the smell of books, row upon row of shelves, and lots of rustling. The rustling - part page turning, part whispering, part shushing, part quietly shuffling feet, part just the books and people breathing - is so much my favorite part of any library that it's possible I imagine more rustling than is actually there. - Marisa de los Santos, "I'll Be Your Blue Sky"

Loved: 

I'll Be Your Blue Sky, Marisa de los Santos: I have perennially adored Marisa de los Santos's writing for the better part of thirteen years now, and this did not disappoint. Her way with words and her evocative, tactile imagery has always sucked me in. I pre-ordered her newest novel at least four months before it came out, and read it in under four hours. Finishing it felt like coming up for air. Just an absolutely gorgeous offering from a writer I will always love. 

Enjoyed: 

Bachelor Nation: Inside the World of America's Favorite Obsession, Amy Kaufman: I NEEDED something to cleanse my "Bachelor" palate after Arie shat all over my Minnesota girl Becca's life in the finale, and this was just the ticket. Kaufman, a writer for the LA Times and noted "Bachelor" franchise enthusiast, has put together one of the most readable, well-researched, gossipy behind-the-scenes books on the show that I've ever read - and I've read most of them at this point. Extra love for the contributions from celeb fans of the show...such a fun addition!

The Man in the High Castle, Philip K Dick: Wade texted me out of the blue mid-month and asked, "The Man In the High Castle - is it pretty conventional alternate history, or...is there something weird about it?" So of course I had to download and read it immediately, and I couldn't put it down. There's definitely something weird about reimagining the outcome of World War II with Germany and Japan as the victors, and I had a blast discussing the myriad plot twists and bizarre quirks with Wade. Definitely recommend for anyone looking for a liiiittle bit of a mind trip! 

In Twenty Years, Allison Winn Scotch: This one really sucked me in - the story of five friends brought together twenty years after their college graduation to rekindle their relationships pulled at my heartstrings in a very specific way, and I thought the writing was just the right mix of pretty and prosaic. Would be a great beach read for all you spring breakers! 

Harry: Life, Loss, and Love, Katie Nicholl: We're approaching peak royal wedding fever in my world right now, and of course I pre-bought and immediately read the new Prince Harry biography in advance of the wedding (May 19, campers - mark your calendars!). I really liked it, but the vast majority of it wasn't new news to me, and I felt like it was a bit light on Meghan Markle, which is the real reason I wanted to read it in the first place. Guess I'll have to go binge-watch "Suits" instead...

Tolerated: 

The Marriage of Opposites, Alice Hoffman: I'm not sure precisely what I didn't love about this novel, and that lack of ability to pinpoint it is bothersome to me. The story of Impressionist painter Camille Pissarro's Caribbean and Jewish antecedents sounded riveting on paper, but I think the novel suffered from a surfeit of ancillary characters and side plots that sidetracked me more often than not. That said, it started a resurgence of my interest in Impressionism, so here's to that at least! 

Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov: A diatribe: I have always struggled with Russian literature - I loathed Dostoevsky and Tolstoy when I tried them both out in high school - and a friend recommended Nabokov as a more modern, palatable alternative. I ordered "Lolita" because it is, obviously, his most famous and enduring work. And I loved his style of writing and the vivid, imagery-driven, colloquial phrasing of the work. That said, I felt incredibly...icky all the way through, largely because of the subject matter being treated with that vivid, imagery-driven phrasing. For those unfamiliar, "Lolita" centers around a 37-year old man's obsession and sexual relationship with a 12-15 year old girl. Sorry, but reading pedophilia, fictional or not, is just REALLY not something I will ever enjoy. YIKES. Hoping I can find something else of his with slightly more mainstream subject matter, because I genuinely did enjoy his style of writing, apart from the squickiness all the way through the book. 

Life and Other Near-Death Experiences, Camille Pagan: I downloaded this after seeing it spoken highly of by an Instagram "influencer" I follow, and I'm sad to say I was disappointed. I expected something with a lot more depth based on her reviews, and instead found that it was basically chick-lit (plus cancer and a gay husband). The highlight, for me? A lot of it took place in Puerto Rico, Culebra and Vieques, all places I've been and loved. Eh, otherwise. 

The Vacationers, Emma Straub: I expected to like this a lot more than I did based on Straub's other work, but I always struggle when I can't find even one likable character in a work, and this was a classic case of that happening. It's definitely an interesting premise - a family vacations with their adult children and gay best friends in Spain after infidelity rocks their marriage - but I found myself checking how many pages were left more than once, and that's never a good sign in my book. 

Re-reads: 

Love Walked In, Marisa de los Santos: Like I said, I've loved Marisa de los Santos for over a decade now, and this, her first work, is perhaps my favorite. Told in alternating chapters by a quirky-if-underachieving thirty-something and her boyfriend's eleven-year-old daughter, the way it delicately illustrates mental illness, fear and love still keeps me riveted every time I re-read it (this was probably the sixth or seventh time...oops.). 

Belong To Me, Marisa de los Santos: The sequel to Love Walked In, this picks up a few years later and tracks all my original favorites, plus adds a new cast of characters that I love just as deeply. The way that this novel illustrates losing a loved one to cancer chokes me up to this day - the imagery is so rich, I can't not feel it. 

Falling Together, Marisa de los Santos: This was the first of Marisa de los Santos's works for adults that left the characters of her original novels, but it's still really beautifully written. The plot does a little less for me - two friends on a quest around the world to seek their other long-lost bestie, while grappling with their secret love for each other along the way? Eh, not quite as much my thing...but the beauty of the writing more than makes up for it. I seriously cannot recommend her highly enough. Read her, and tell me that you did, and love her right along with me!

Sweetbitter, Stephanie Danler: I just read this for the first time last fall, and had to re-read it in light of the upcoming STARZ mini-series adaptation. I loved it just as much the second time - the story of a young waitress trying to make her way in one of New York City's elite restaurants, and figuring out who she is along the way is one that really resonated with me for some reason. Maybe it's that I think of Spoon and Stable the whole time I read it? Who knows. Pour yourself a fancy glass of wine and enjoy this one. 

An OCD bookworm tale.

About a month-ish ago, I was having a REALLY off day. I was crabby about my body - feet covered in blood blisters from my New York escapades had kept me out of the gym for a few days. Furthermore, I was feeling disgusting after housing fully four bottles of champagne in three days, plus drinking all over the city. I was exhausted - 2am bedtimes, hotel sleep, sharing a bed, and going like a crazy person for days at a time had burned me out. I was irritated with just about everyone in my life - near or far. So I decided, spur of the moment, to rearrange my bookshelves. 

This may sound like a completely random, absurd action to take in an attempt to soothe myself, but consider the source. One of my absolute favorite parts of moving - one of the actions I have to take before a place feels like home - is to organize my books. When I moved to California, my initial quote was something like $3000, based on the phone consultation with my moving company. Upon seeing my Minneapolis apartment, the mover adjusted his estimate up by almost a thousand dollars. Dismayed, I asked why, and his explanation? "Well, ma'am, you've got...a lot of books. And my guys? They don't like moving books." I eventually negotiated the quote back down...but only if I agreed to move my books myself, in my car. This required paring down my cherished collection by almost half, and even then it was a tight squeeze to get them in the car with our suitcases and the plethora of other paraphernalia I had to fit. (I believe my mom's quote was "You can get to California with clothes and fewer books, or you can get to California with all your books but be naked til the movers come." OH JODES.) Anyway, I digress - moral of the story: for me, books are home, plain and simple. 

I am extraordinarily specific about how my books must be organized. Up until that crisis night a month ago, it was, inflexibly, "alphabetically by author's last name." I am a voracious re-reader, and knowing where to find my favorites (Austen in the top left corner cuddling up to the Brontes, Graham Greene hanging out by Hemingway with Ibbotson close by, and my growing J. Courtney Sullivan collection looking down on Meg Wolitzer from a shelf above) is critical for my happiness. Accordingly, making the shift to rearrange my bookshelves was reflective of just how unsettled and angsty I felt in every other arena. 

How, though, to rearrange? I stood in front of the shelves for a solid ten-ish minutes, debating the merits of "time period" or "alphabetically by title" or "genre" or "Dewey Decimal" while Dave looked at me like I was an actual crazy person. I dove in and eventually settled on "by spine color." BY SPINE COLOR? WHAT WAS I THINKING? I honestly feel as though I suffered some sort of miniature breakdown or psychotic dissociation that led to this completely asinine decision. But by the time I realized I was NOT pleased, I was midway through, deep in reflection of just how many blue-spined books I own. And at that point, it felt too late to turn back and start over, so I persevered, bitching all the while about how stupid it was to let Pinterest aspirations overcome plain old-fashioned good sense. 

And there you have it - the finished product. (Well, most of it - the second shelf is still only half-full because of how few books I could bring to California with me, and it's all the black spines, so...eh.) I stood back, I looked at them, and I decided I loathed it. But I left it, confident that it would grow on me. 

Then, last week, I flew through Marisa de los Santos's transcendently lovely "I'll Be Your Blue Sky," and suddenly, fundamentally needed to re-read everything she had ever written. So I went to find her first novel last night before dinner with Kaitlin, thinking it'd be a perfect post-meal wind-down before bed. Problem? I couldn't find it. Campers, I freaked. Not like...externally. But internally? I was a spastic, stressed frazzle of a human. And right then and there, with about an hour until I needed to leave for dinner, I pulled every book back off the shelf, and spent the most relaxing, satisfying forty minutes of my life restoring order in this specific little corner of my universe. 

I guess the lesson learned here is simply to not mess with a good thing. Also that I am fully actually insane, but let's be real...we already knew that.