The dog days are here. Yesterday, I passed a trio of towheads sitting cross-legged on a grassy front lawn, electric blue popsicles dripping down their chin, elbows, knees. Bikes piled haphazardly in the driveway, garden sprinkler a flurry.
Food + Drink
8 Snacks We Love
We’re a snackin’ family, is all. Pre-parenthood, my visions of mealtime were saccharine at best. Small heads gathered around a table, small hands folded in prayer. Three courses at the ready, three times daily. We’d pass bread. We’d bless the cook. It is this, on rare occasions, but mostly it is not. Mostly it is
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Style + Beauty
Elsewhere
Hair, of all things. I’ve never been blessed with a sense of consistency in the beauty department. As a child, my own grandmother often failed to identify me in family photos due to a near-constant rotation of (admittedly terrible) hair choices: the leave-in Perm, the impromptu bangs, the great Sun-In overdose of 1994.
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Ideals + Musings
Currently
This week, the bulk of my daily conversations with friends, family, neighbors have been swollen with current events. We circle around kitchen tables and stretch our own small theories, thin solutions, blistered understanding. We clash. We talk ourselves tired. After a long while, everyone agrees to one thing and one thing alone: It’s complicated, but
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Other
Currently
Ours was a week that was both glorious and terrible. Bikes and bistros, disagreements and diaper rash. For every moment of beauty, it seemed, a futile moment trailed. Laughter around a bonfire, the bite of a mosquito. Tortoise hunts, a bloody fall on the rocks. Trust gained, trust lost. Small and ill-timed furies shouldered until
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Other
Currently
Early this week, in a Chicago hotel room, I order French toast for eating in bed. Two rarities: sugar and silence. I’m punchy with anticipation. But then it arrives, and the plate is hard to balance on my legs, keeps tipping askew, the knife in need of a stable surface for cutting. I move to
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Other
Currently
The sun is shining, a neighbor’s lilac bush is in bloom. When its Lilliputian flowers dance over to my front stoop, I can’t help but sense they’re carrying an early conception of chimera. As it stands, every idea I’ve pursued at length – plans snared to sites built to projects born to gigs proposed –
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Ideals + Musings
Currently
Ken, out of town. In the evenings, I survey the sink and realize every dish accounted for is my own, or one prepared by me. No smoothie blenders on the drying rack, no spatulas dyed turmeric neon from late-night curry. I spend the week cooking recipes he hates or has grown tired of. Tuna for