the last couple years, substack was a lifeline. it was a place for catharsis, a place where i could unleash feelings, express my thoughts, share my fears and sadnesses, and my happiness too. it was a space that allowed me hope that someone, somewhere, would make me feel seen and understood. less irrational, less crazy, not too much even in my most dramatic of expressions. it was also an emotional scrapbook of sorts. i loved sharing about my life and creating posts that were of a collection of images, poems and random excerpts that meant something during that specific time.

lately, i feel like i’ve been so absent from this space and it’s been harder and harder for me to catch up. i know i’ve written a couple posts promising i would be back and asked for your patience but i would just feel this looming pressure and stress to write or post which gave me a brain freeze and made me feel even more stuck. then the guilt combined with stress would settle in because i knew people were paying for me to only post once a month, twice if we were lucky and i felt terrible about that. i had this big dream when i first started substack that it could eventually become my main source of income and i could just hole up in my apartment and spend my days drinking coffee or wine and dabble in just enough narcissism to make it a career. but real life (mine at least) doesn’t work that way. instead, i chose to ease away from social media, both instagram and substack and took up a full time job that doesn’t relate to writing or food. turning 35 years old kind of did something to me; i suddenly craved the stability and routine that i had tried to run away from for so long.

i decided to pause all paid subscriptions indefinitely. all posts will be public going forward and i’ll slowly remove the paywall from my archived posts so all subscribers can read them if you’d like. i know that there are so many substacks nowadays that give opinions on where to eat, what to eat, what to buy, where to buy, what to watch, what to listen to, what’s cool, what’s not cool and although a small part of me wishes i could be a substack like that, i want to think of my substack as more of an emotional scrapbook again. i’d like it to be a place where i can still come to to be vulnerable and true, post a random recipe here and there and not out of pressure or expectation, but because i want to. it no longer needs to be a place where i make money or where i try to gain popularity. it can just be, i guess.

i’m kind of looking forward to this new phase of try a little tenderness. it feels kind of exciting but most importantly, it feels freeing! so thank you for being here for this long and i hope you continue to be.

not for riches but for love,

e

a couple years ago, i was lucky enough to meet mackenzie for the first time over breakfast at destroyer. we sat and talked and ate and taste tested oishi berries together. i was so taken aback by how warm and welcoming she was, like the truest beam of sunlight. there were no pretenses with her, everything from the way she immediately greeted me with a big hug to our conversations about love and food and everything in between felt so genuine and true. the way she navigates food, her own cooking and how she cares for others reflects that. i’m grateful mackenzie took the time to share her thoughts on what makes home feel like home, what no longer impresses her and what a ‘miracle’ means to her.

you can find mackenzie here and here.

What does it mean to feel like a kid again? Feeling like a kid again feels like embracing the world with an open heart, playing shamelessly, being yourself without a care in the world.

What makes your home feel like your home? My home feels like mine because it smells like sandalwood incense and palo santo, my side table has a tall stack of books currently being read along with a day-old cup of tea (hopefully sitting on a coaster), my pantry is stocked with at least two different honeys, my skincare is sitting on the bathroom counter, there's a pile of clean clothes next to my bed, and at the risk of sounding incredibly cheesy - my heart is there.

What did your bedroom look like as a teenager? My teenage bedroom was covered in posters - the pink floyd catalog poster of backs/butts, a clockwork orange, trainspotting, an old french film that I saw one time. My bedding was from Urban Outfitters, it was a soft yellow with poppies on it. I had a small wrought-iron eiffel tower sculpture of sorts sitting on my dresser, along with a himalayan salt lamp, a hello kitty bong, and a collection of crystals.

What could you learn from your younger self? I could learn to be more carefree, more unapologetically myself.

What would your younger self love about who you are now? I think she would love the life I (we?) created. The "job" (doesn't feel like a job really) I have, the healthy relationship I am in, my willingness to forgive.

What is something you wish younger you understood? I wish younger me understood that time and space is meaningful, and that impulsivity is not always the answer.

What word do you find powerful or meaningful? Beshert - a Yiddish word that means destiny. It can refer to soulmates but I like to use it to describe something kismet, synchronistic, meant-to-be.

Who has been kind to you when they didn’t have to be? The man I rear-ended in my early twenties. I had to put my dog down that day and I was crying, driving home at night in stop-and-go traffic on the 10. He got out of the car and the first thing he did was ask if I was okay. I told him my dog just died and that I was distracted driving and apologized in between sobs. He and his wife were on their way home from a funeral. He was really gentle and kind and patient, despite having his own emotion-filled day. It was a moment that gave me faith in humanity.

If you could say anything to anyone right now, what would it be? I would tell Ayo Edebiri I want to be friends!

What song plays inside your head when you’re feeling down?

The last stranger that made you smile. A barista who asked me how I was doing. It felt genuine.

If you could go back in time, would you? Absolutely not! The present is a present.

What is a piece of advice you’ve given that you should listen to for yourself? My first thought was "If someone shows you who they are, believe them", but I don't think that is always the most sound piece of advice. I believe that people can change and evolve and putting a black and white belief onto another person can sell their ability to progress short. That being said, actions speak louder than words.

What no longer impresses you? Having staunch, unmoving opinions on things like art or movies or music.

If you could have one smell on your hands forever, what would it be and why? Swedish Dream Sea Salt hand creme. It smells so fresh and covers up the trace of garlic and onion that stain my fingers often.

What is art? Oh, what a question! Art is definitely subjective. I think art can be pretty much everything. Practice is art. Rituals are art. Nature is art. I think art is expressing or processing feelings into creation.

How do you celebrate your birthday? I shamelessly love my birthday. I usually spend my birthday surrounded by people I love, doing things I love, with delicious food and wine, and cake - it's not my birthday without cake.

Heartbreak or loss smells like: Burnt toast, salty air, cigars, a stale room, wet dirt on a hot day.

Childhood smells like: A donut shop, rubber handballs, freshly mowed grass, asphalt wet from rain, the Orlando airport.

What did you hate most as a child? I hated being away from my parents. I'd get homesick at sleepovers.

If you had a child, what would you want them to know? Nothing is permanent, you can always change your mind, kindness is a superpower.

What dish would you make for someone you care for? I would make someone I care for matzo ball soup, or brownies with homemade almond milk. Any dish that feels like a hug, really.

What article of clothing feels most like you? Overalls or a striped shirt.

What’s an act of humanity you witnessed that made you feel something? My friend Dylan flew to Cairo to bring mutual aid and assistance to displaced Gazans in Egypt. Her activism inspires me so much and makes me feel hopeful. Whether bringing families with infants formula and diapers, funding treatments to cancer patients, or providing shoes for a family, she works tirelessly. Her instagram is here.

What age do you never want to be again? 14

What do you wish you could experience again for the first time? I wish I could experience the magic of Disneyland again for the first time. It felt so real and magical as a child. Now I know too much to enjoy it the same way, but I still love the way the air smells and the way the music playing throughout makes me feel there.

What color describes you? Cherry red

What color describes your first love? Forest green

What do you miss? Being in the kitchen with my aunt.

What is your favorite part of loving someone? My favorite part of loving someone is taking care of them. I saw a quote today that said "taking care of people heals the part of you that needed someone to take care of you."

In what ways have you become more loving? By really listening and letting go of judgement, especially in moments of conflict.

What life do you hope parallel-life you is living? I hope she is homesteading, living life simply, potentially untethered to the productivity guilt of a capitalistic society, using her resources to help others, and maybe, just maybe performing at a local jazz club on the weekends.

What is a miracle? A miracle is sort of like beshert or kismet! It's magic, it's surprising, it's spectacular.

What feels freeing to you? The wind in my hair, going on a long walk, swimming in the ocean, taking myself out for a treat, taking a cold shower after sweating.

What do you trust will work out for you? I trust that the boundaries I set will work out for me, that the habits and discipline I enforce with myself will work out for me, that the friendships and relationships I cultivate will work out for me.

Is there a song I should listen to today? Sexy to Someone by Clairo (my current summer stroll song)

When sadness makes its presence known, how do you greet it? I love to cry, so I usually greet my sadness with tears. I fully lean in and listen to the songs and watch the movies that make me cry the hardest so I can really get all the tears out.

What do you see from your favorite window? I see lots of green. The window/balcony door in my dining room looks out to a giant, green hedge. I see morning doves, hummingbirds, and squirrels, too. And also my dog, Juniper, sitting in the sun.

What did you learn from your grandmother? I learned to rest when you're tired, and to eat (and really enjoy) the ice cream!

What have you taught yourself? I have taught myself how to be patient, how to live in the present, and how to cook, and to lean into learning.

What’s an object you possess that is precious to you? I have a small framed photo of my parents when they were first together, smiling and in love. I never had the chance to see them in that way, so I like having a snapshot that captured their joy. And I see myself in them.

How do you show your love? I show love to someone by making them a meal, texting or calling them when I am thinking of them, rubbing their back.

What was the last wish you made? I don't make many wishes these days, I think about the things I have and am grateful for instead.

What do you no longer regret? I no longer regret the way I showed up for someone who didn't show up for me.

Did you pass notes in high school? Not really, but I definitely texted under the desk.

Walk me through a perfect day: A perfect day for me would consist of waking up without an alarm, making a cup of tea and a big plate of pancakes, taking my dog on a long walk around the neighborhood, going to a yoga class with a friend, taking a nap, then making a lush picnic to take to the beach for sunset.

How do you know when you are in love? I know when I am in love when my heart twinges when I'm not with them.

What do you find overrated? I find most places with long lines overrated.

What are your favorite kind of gifts to give? And to receive? My favorite kinds of gifts to give and to receive are homemade or handmade ones.

When was the last time you laughed so hard your stomach ached? When I was at one of my closest friends' bachelorette, half-watching Step Up 2 in the hotel room, eating takeout, laughing about Julia Stiles' audition scene in Save the Last Dance.

Biggest pet peeve. My biggest pet peeve is condescension.

What makes a perfect love song? A perfect love song has a fantastic melody, makes you want to dance (slow or fast), and words that stick with you.

What makes any day feel like a Saturday? Slowness, ease, bagels.

If you could go back in time, what time would you revisit in your life? If I had to, I would revisit being five years old to feel that wonder and discovery and excitement and silliness.

Where do you go from here? Forward.

Finish this sentence: to be loved is __________. to be cared for and thought of

Finish this sentence: something I’ve learned to love about myself is ________________. my passion, intensity and all

After you answer these questions, what will you do today? I will watch Freaky Friday while eating mushroom walnut bolognese I just made.

when i first moved out after our break up and into my apartment, i went to home depot in search of a plant. i wanted a fiddle fig because i felt like it was the only plant that could make my apartment look more sophisticated and polished than it was or ever could be. irrationally, i thought if i had a fiddle fig, i could get away with an ikea side table. i didn’t where this idea came from and it didn’t make sense but i wanted nothing more than the sprawling fussy plant. i found one at home depot and i was relieved that it was on sale for half off. most of the plants looked like they were wilting or dying under the grey fluorescent lighting. this fiddle fig was the most alive looking one in the middle of the pitiful garden center. the leaves felt young and soft but the stem seemed too thin to carry the leaves i hoped i could help it grow.

i was worried i would kill it as i’ve killed most plants. six years ago, jeremy installed planters so i could have a balcony garden because i wanted to grow herbs like cilantro and parsley and i even tried growing garlic. i followed the instructions on the seed packet, planting them an inch into the soil, watering when necessary, but it didn’t matter. they sprouted but i couldn’t keep them alive. i couldn’t help them grow. a friend of jeremy’s came to visit and gifted us a plant as a celebration of us recently moving in together. i told her i would take care of it, i promised myself that i would keep it alive. i tried because i took this little plant to symbolize our relationship and i held the childish superstition that if i killed it, our relationship would die too. slowly the leaves started to turn yellow and the leaves started to fall off one by one. maybe i poured too much love into it by watering too frequently, worried i wouldn’t water it enough so it would shrivel and brown. instead, i drowned it to death.

i moved the fiddle fig to various points in my apartment, worried that it was getting too much sun or not enough. i watered it every week or twice a week when i wondered if it was extra thirsty. it went on like that, day after day for over a year. when jeremy and i were apart, i would spontaneously tell him my fiddle fig was still alive. i haven’t killed it yet. i didn’t know how to take care of it, really, but i tried to nurture it and tried my best. this time, it wasn’t really about love but it was learning that i could take care of something, something known to be mercurial and finicky, and maybe that meant i could learn to take care of myself.

i haven’t been home much lately. i’m at my apartment maybe 1 or 2 days a week, if that. i spend most of my time at jeremy’s so we can rebuild the home life we once shared. i came to my apartment yesterday, set my bags down on the floor, and went to water my plants. i suddenly noticed how tall my fiddle fig is now, i can see how much she has grown. she has new leaves at the very top and i wish i was tall enough to feel how soft and tender they are. she’s nearly touching the ceiling now. i’m proud of her. of how she’s been able to grow in less than ideal circumstances. a tiny apartment filled with sunlight but doesn’t have the space for her to stretch and sprawl out. she’s been with me for almost two years and i never noticed how much she’s been growing, quietly and consistently, on her own time.

it goes like that, doesn’t it? the quiet steadiness of growing and changing and finding our way to new depths. i think of who i was last year and who i was even two months ago and how much i’ve grown since then. it doesn’t seem like much because it’s been gentle and thoughtful. but i think that’s the most surprising type of growth- a quietly magnificent transformation.

hi, how are you. it’s been forever or maybe that’s just what it feels like. i want to be here more but i also have enjoyed being on here less. recently, i started a new position which means it’s the first time i’ve worked full time (outside of the house) in over 5 years. it’s been new and different and although it’s not very glamorous, it’s been good for me. i feel good. i’m tired but i’m happy.

i’m trying to find a schedule for substack that works for my new work schedule. i don’t mean to neglect this platform but on my days off, i want to be out of the house or i’m with people i care about. i reach for my phone less, i’m on my computer less. not being so tuned in on anything revolving around my instagram/substack feels really good and healthy. i’m maybe enjoying it more than i thought i could ever admit.

but! i have so many more interviews for an important question lined up. i feel so grateful that so many people i admire were willing to be open and vulnerable with me for this series. coming up in the next few weeks will be an interview with dianna cohen, the founder of crown affair, eliana gil rodriguez, founder of gil rodriguez, one of my favorite novelists, megan nolan, courtney rafuse, the founder of universal flowering (daddy by universal flowering is my new favorite scent and it’s unlike anything i have ever smelled before), my sweet friends mackenzie richmond who is a personal chef and chloe lucas-walsh who is the queen of pop ups all around california and new york just to name a few.

i think i started to feel like substack has become inundated with so many newsletters. everyone has a fucking newsletter. what more could i add to this space? i’m not a discourse writer. i don’t write about pop/food/fashion culture. i think i started to feel shy and unsure about what i have to offer. i know my newsletter has slowly become less personal but it is still a place for me to pour my heart out and i miss it. i know i haven’t been the best with sharing recipes so i want to get better at doing that. i recently hosted a sit-down dinner party for more people than our dining room table can fit so i want to write about hosting and how stressful but rewarding i find it. i want to write about the endless dirtying of dishes when cooking something delicious. i want to write about what it means to live in a home. i want to write about things that i’ve been excited about. i want to write about life again.

i’m excited to be back.

my most vivid memory of chicago, the first time i went, was drinking too many gin and tonics at a bar in wicker park because i was nervous and i felt unsure being amongst people who seemed so much more worldlier and cooler than me. i was young and naive, far away from home and i needed something to do to keep myself busy so i drank more than i was used to. or rather, more than i really wanted to. i remember the bar being loud and packed, so much so that people spilled out onto the sidewalk and i ended up sitting on the curb later on in the night. i was staying with a gay couple, one of which was a painter, in their beautiful basement apartment a couple blocks away from that bar. their apartment was spacious and the walls were littered with beautiful paintings, some were works of their own and other paintings were done by their fellow artist friends. the painter was painting my then boyfriend; a huge painting that stretched almost from the ceiling to the floor. the painting was of my ex-boyfriend perched on the edge of a stool, completely naked, with a rubber horse mask on. this couple was obsessed with him and couldn’t care less about me.

that night after the bar, after drinking four or five gin and tonics, i woke up from a restless sleep in a cold sweat. i stumbled through their spacious and open apartment where there were no walls, just curtains, and started gagging before making it to the bathroom. my gagging was loud and raucous, i probably sounded like i was dying as i tried to stifle my crying because i always cry when i throw up. i stayed in their bathroom, puking for what felt like hours before half crawling back to the bed they made for me on the opposite side of their apartment. the next morning, they treated me coolly and didn’t say a word about it. as we sipped our coffees in near silence, the looming portrait of my naked then boyfriend with a horse head mask on seemingly hovering over us, i promised myself i would never drink gin again. i remember almost apologizing to break up the tension but i stopped myself. i already felt humiliated and they didn’t care about me, anyway.

even still, i loved chicago. my clothes were simultaneously not cool or warm enough. not cool enough for how cool the people were and not warm enough for the wind that would spontaneously rip through the city. as my teeth chattered while walking underneath the roaring L, i told myself i could live here. i didn’t know what i could do there but i tried convincing myself that it was a city i could grow into. it’s been years since that first visit and although i’ve visited chicago a couple times since then, this was the first trip that felt like i was experiencing chicago. as soon as we landed at the airport, traveled on the L for what felt like an eternity and finally landed in the west loop, we were enveloped by the humidity of a hot chicago summer night and i felt bliss.

as we lugged our luggage from the L to where we were staying, the air was heavy with the smell of food. i told jeremy that i feel like chicago is the city of food. as we walked the few blocks, i rambled saying milan smells like expensive cologne and cigarettes and gasoline. i associate paris with a distinct expensive perfume-y smell of a parisian hotel lobby along with the faint scent of piss and slightly sweet mustiness. to me, new mexico smells like hot sand and oil. but with chicago, i associate it with the deep smells of a slow cooking tomato sauce that wafts through the air, something that smells deeply savory and rich mixed with the scent of pavement and exhaust. as we walked, one of us would ask: is that pizza?

after we landed, we walked to au cheval. there was a wait but it went by fast while downing 2 aperol spritz, people watching as my berkeley-everyone’s-in-bed-by-9-pm-and-everything-is-closed-by-8-pm-ass was in awe of seeing how lively the streets and restaurants were at 10 pm on a wednesday and eavesdropping on the conversation between the most clean girl aesthetic i have ever seen outside of tiktok and a guy who i thought was her father but was definitely not her father. her eyebrows were thin and perfectly arched, her skin was pure and makeup less, her hair slicked back with no baby hairs out of place in a perfect french twist held with a claw clip, and a pristine white tennis dress with kitten heels. she wore one dainty van cleef and arpels necklace that rested right at the base of her throat. i couldn’t help but be both fascinated and bored by her.

au cheval had the best chopped salad i’ve ever had in my life. the iceberg lettuce was perfectly chopped (really important when it comes to a chopped salad) and chilled, the ranch was fucking serious with springs of dill and reminiscent of a ranch that could be considered ‘bad’ for you, the blue cheese was crumbled small enough where it wasn’t overwhelming and i didn’t get suddenly grossed out by the funk of it which sometimes happens to me when i eat blue cheese, the chopped thick cut bacon was abundant, still warm and slightly sweet. was i just really hungry? was it the humidity and heat of the city after being trapped on a plane for 4 hours that had me going feral over this cool and refreshing chopped salad?? it was insane. i ordered their single cheeseburger with no egg (i guess au cheval is known for their eggs) and it was exactly what i needed it to be: not a smash burger, well seasoned, american cheese, good mayo, good mustard, good pickles. jeremy ordered the same but added a runny egg which was beautiful and a sight to see but i love my burgers classic with no additions. i thought au cheval was a perfect late night meal and i’ll remember it fondly forever. it felt so vibrant and alive and maybe i was just delusional because i was exhausted and sweaty and starving but i loved the music that was playing, i loved the late night diner feel, i loved that the lights are dim and low, i loved that you can watch the burgers being flipped, i love that fucking salad.

the aperol spritz were also not bad which i think is important to note.

we chose 3 arts club at random, or rather, jeremy chose this place at random after we had walked 6 miles in the humidity and the heat. he was showing me around his old neighborhood and i was getting a little cranky at our indecision and our lack of planning for lunch even though i rarely plan anything. we didn’t know it was a restoration hardware restaurant but as soon as we stepped in and saw the oversized furniture in every shade of a neutral palette known to mankind accented with ginormous crystal chandeliers and sleek lighting fixtures, i knew exactly where we ended up. when we realized where we were, we had a really good laugh and i was convinced that the meal was going to overpriced and mid, at best. the space is beautiful and i would be lying if i didn’t admit that. it does manage to feel luxurious but in a way that doesn’t fully feel authentic and it’s very faux european but californian at the same time. it kinda makes you want to drink 10 cocktails along with a salad. if i still smoked, i would have wanted to light up a cigarette. i started thinking about my mom and how she would love a place like this and i thought about how i should take her to the one in napa when i get back home. we weren’t starving so we decided to share the lobster roll and shrimp cocktail (shrimp cocktail is one of my favorite dishes ever) with a side of fries. i literally cannot say a single bad thing about the meal. shrimp cocktail was snappy and chilled perfectly and the cocktail sauce was spicy enough. the lobster roll was buttery and the lobster was tender. the fries were simple but good. they had the best cappelletti spritz and against my better judgment i had two at lunch, despite walking around the heat all day and knowing there was still more walking to be done. i would not come here again when we go back to chicago but i thought it was a funny and surprising experience and i understand why people enjoy coming here. it is really pretty, it’s a fun place to have a flirty little cocktail, eat some shrimp cocktail, people watch the other tourists and like i said, the food was actually good.

i really don’t love barbecue, american or korean. but we’ve been obsessed with watching barbecue showdown on netflix which made me wonder if i could like barbecue or maybe i’d like it more now. i requested one night of barbecue since this isn’t something berkeley has a lot of and the show really had me craving a platter of meat. jeremy took me to green street smoked meats and once again, i was just so surprised at how many people were out on a thursday night. especially at a barbecue place! the place was packed but we got lucky and only waited in line for 30 minutes or so but the line soon snaked around the entire building and i guess the wait was closer to an hour. we ordered ribs, sliced brisket, a hot link, macaroni salad, spicy pickles, cornbread with honey butter and banana pudding. i got every sauce available: spicy, sweet (which tasted like curry but it was really good), carolina gold and vinegar. it came with sliced white bread and pickled onions.

ribs: 4/5

sliced brisket: 4.5/5

hot link: 3/5

macaroni salad: 4.8/5

spicy pickles: 2/5

cornbread with honey butter: 1.5/5 (the cornbread was a good texture but there was such a strange, weird, uncomfortable aftertaste that we couldn’t figure out)

banana pudding: 2.5/5 (jeremy liked this way more than i did)

sliced white bread: 5/5 (just kidding)

i enjoyed eating this a lot and it was delicious but i just don’t know if i love barbecue. i think i love the idea of it (especially learning how barbecue is truly an art) more than i actually enjoy eating it. i started feeling a little sick by how much meat i was eating after eating a couple ribs, few bites of the brisket and a few slices of the hot link. i did love the macaroni salad so i ended up picking at that for the rest of the meal. the barbecue made us feel a little crazy at the end of the night but it was worth trying and i’m happy we did.

i was a little skeptical of monteverde because they were selling branded sweatshirts in the front of the restaurant near the hostess stand (which i ended up buying because a ‘mildly windy’ chicago night felt freezing to me). jeremy was the most excited about this place because he had heard good things and read the eater articles (he reads the eater articles, i do not). it is clearly a very well liked restaurant as it was really crowded and we didn’t have a reservation so we knew there would be a wait. the wait was closer to an hour but the bar seating is first come first serve. i sat by the entrance with a glass of wine while jeremy circled the bar, hoping this girl sitting with her parents would finish up after their third espresso martini. we were eventually seated (girl with her parents at the bar must have ordered another espresso martini and rightfully so) and ordered their sunchoke and artichoke truffle crostini, broccoli and cheese arancini, agnolotti, bistecca and a blueberry lemon sundae for dessert.

jeremy loved the crostini a lot and i liked it very much. the arancini was a must for me. i loved that it’s kinda a childlike combination of broccoli and cheese but made into this sort of adult appetizer. the arancini crust was so crisp (insert the this is spectacular, give me 14 of them right now audio). i’ve only had agnolotti with a rich brown butter sauce, something that’s glossy and very savory. this agnolotti was not my favorite because it tasted a little bit like pizza which i didn’t love. it was a little strange. the agnolotti itself was delicious but i didn’t like the sauce it was paired with and it made me miss belotti’s agnolotti. i also hated the fact there were mustard seeds on top! for me, it was a weird slimy texture and added a little bit of a strange bite. i also wish restaurants didn’t put microgreens on top of pasta. pasta doesn’t need microgreens. i can’t think of a lot of dishes that require or are enhanced by microgreens. the bistecca was perfect and i loved the onions it came with. it was tender and so flavorful and would absolutely order again if we came back. our server guided us to the blueberry lemon sundae after i asked what dessert is being served in a goblet after seeing so many goblets being served to many of the tables. our server told us it’s the best dessert on the menu and although we tend to sway toward something chocolatey, i’m so happy we ordered this. it was a vanilla, lemony ice cream with a blueberry compote, little chunks of cake and crispy wafers.

the branded sweatshirts didn’t mean anything because the food was actually quite good and i would absolutely come back.

the only place we got coffee in the mornings for the 4 days we were there was at good ambler because it was conveniently in the neighborhood of where we were staying. it was at good ambler where it dawned on me that this part of chicago, at least, was so full of people in their 20’s-40’s. i told jeremy that i feel like i hadn’t seen one elderly person which is unusual for us because berkeley just feels so old sometimes.

we normally get a chicago dog from portillo’s but because we were walking near the lake, we randomly stopped by relish hot dog stand and got nachos with the fake cheese and jalapeños (honestly hit) and a chicago dog which is one of my favorite things. i don’t love add-ons on my burgers and like them pretty simple and classic but the same does not go for a hot dog. i love, love, love a chicago dog.

brasero was my favorite meal in chicago. i didn’t really know what to expect but i was so pleasantly surprised by how good this meal was. i also loved the ambience; a little dark and a little moody. i love nothing more than a very crowded, busy, bustling restaurant on a saturday night. we ordered the pão de queijo which came with an herby cheese and a jalapeño sage blueberry jam. we really could have ordered another one of these because they were so, so, so good. kind of mochi in texture, piping hot, perfectly salty, very savory and so good with the blueberry jam. the heirloom tomato salad with iberico ham and almond pesto was really simple and really nice. the grilled quail (my first time having quail) was delicious. sweet and salty and the quail was so tender coated with a sauce that was really quite addictive. the coal roasted sweet potato with cheese and hot honey and pumpkin seeds and peanuts was something jeremy loved a lot. i love the sweet potato itself but didn’t love the cheese. however, i would still order this again because it was creamy and sweet. for our shared entree we ordered the moqueca which is a stew with a variety of seafood like mahi mahi, shrimp and mussels in a coconut broth with rice. it was perfect and my favorite dish at brasero.

brasero is a restaurant where i wish we had something similar in the bay area in regards to service, ambience, the food, the other guests. it felt exciting and good to be there. seeing every table full and the bar full just added to the experience. next time we go to brasero, i would want to try their grilled prawns, the pork fried rice, the whole fish and the picanha.

also, their aperol spritz was 5/5.

some random notes about chicago:

there are so many attractive men and women. is this true or was i imagining things? especially at the logan square farmer’s market!!

i’ve never seen a city do the clean girl aesthetic so well. i know aritizia and reformation is scared to see these girls coming.

the mca has some really good exhibits on right now. especially the arthur jafa exhibit showing his selected works.

we waited in line at lula cafe because it was so highly recommended but after waiting 90 minutes and still not being sat, we had to randomly go to same day cafe across the way before heading to the airport. so on a sunday for brunch, i guess if you plan on going, expect a two hour wait or so. i was disappointed but i’m excited to try to go there again the next time.

i love, love, love, love, love how lively the city is even on a wednesday or thursday night. it’s so nice seeing people out past 8 or 9 pm and seeing the streets full. i think chicago in the summer is just really special and despite the heat and humidity, i want to come to chicago every summer.

it’s 10:17 pm and i am on the train. there’s a lady across the aisle reading a tattered copy of atonement by ian mcewan and i wonder if this is her personal copy or if she borrowed it from the library. i wonder if this is a book she reads routinely. i want to ask her how she’s surviving it because the book is nothing but muddled words that try to force a pretty story down your throat but is so boring, it leaves your mind wandering. the lady is asleep, her finger holding her place between the pages. her finger has moved and now her place is lost. her eyes are closed and her face looks so peaceful even though her head rests on the window and rhythmically bounces as the train pushes it’s way down the tracks. i’m tired. i want to stop thinking about things that are existing in my life and think about the people who rotate on and off at each stop. i want to stop feeling this and feel something else.

he asked me to dinner and i told him i would accept coffee. i debated driving or taking the train but taking the train always wins. i asked him if we could meet later in the evening, around seven or so. he agreed and told me to meet him at a coffee shop. mint plaza. i repeated the location in my head over and over. mint plaza. mint plaza. mint plaza. it sounded funny to me. the train was empty and strangely quiet.

he held my hand across the table on the second floor of a bar. i'm startled when his hand reaches for mine. i want to pull my hand away because i reserve holding hands for people i feel deeply. holding hands is not like kissing. why are you holding my hand? because i feel like it. i distract myself by looking outside. my. hand feels like it’s being held hostage but the facade of intimacy fades my loneliness a little. he's looking at me.

it's drizzling out. it's nice- he interrupts me. i haven't met someone like you in a very, very long time. i believe it, but i don't believe him. he keeps asking me who i am. i don't know how to answer that and i don't really want to. i shrug and laugh. he looks at me with both admiration and what feels like a tinge of repulsion. it probably didn't mean anything but in that moment, it did. i put more trust in the way he looked at me than the words he was saying. i pull my hand away and grip my glass instead. the heat from my hands make the glass sweat quickly. i'm drinking a diet coke.

i want to know everything about you. what is your favorite food? favorite color? what are your favorite films? in my head, i decide that this will be the reason i don’t see him again. i suddenly feel claustrophobic and nervous. i answer two of the three questions. the last one i tell him i have to get back to him.

before i get into the car picking me up, he reminds me i haven’t answered the last question. i lie and tell him i like foreign films the best. it’s not really a lie but it’s an exaggeration. he throws his head back and laughs. i couldn't understand what was so funny. i slid into the car and waved goodbye.

i wonder if all psychiatrists live in such filth. his apartment is tiny but beautiful with old wooden floors and windows that look like sheets of melted sugar rather than glass. they look thin and ancient and i wonder how they keep the wind out. the kitchen has only enough space for one person. he has almost no furniture and his bed is a futon that is laid out on in the middle of the floor. his bed has a fitted sheet with a quilt over it with two thin pillows that look wilted. he has a tiny table in the kitchen area with two folding chairs. there is one bookshelf. there are random papers scattered everywhere; on the floor, on his bookshelf, on his makeshift kitchen table. a thin film of dust covers everything. he has one lamp with a dark lampshade that makes the room glow the color of a tangerine. he makes no apologies for any of this. he ushers me in to the heart of his apartment with pride.

he wants to make me sushi but the avocado he chose is hard as a rock. he asks me if i can slice it up and he hands me something equivalent to a butter knife. i look at it for a minute, not knowing what to do. i ask if he has a cutting board. he thinks for a moment and rummages through drawers and looks into his kitchen cabinet. his kitchen cabinet don't have doors and instead of plates and bowls and cups, there are random papers and other miscellaneous items tucked into each shelf. i'm in awe of his disaster of a kitchen. he has one bowl, two plates and maybe one cup. it takes me a minute to realize the cup is actually an old glass beaker. i wonder what i am really doing here. he hands me a slab of circular wood. use this. i'm still stuck with this butter knife that isn't going to win against this avocado. i don't bother asking if he has a different knife because i know he doesn’t. i start peeling the avocado instead. i take a small bite out of a slice and it’s bitter and disgusting. he has a small bottle of whiskey with maybe half an inch of liquid left. he hands the bottle to me. i shake my head.

no, thank you.

i don't tell him that i believe the last inch of liquid left in any drink or bottle is just mainly saliva and i cannot bring myself to drink it. he shrugs and takes a sip and i wonder why he didn't just drink the whole thing. there was maybe a drop left now. we talk about a variety of things. he tells me about his relationship with his parents. i'm quiet about my relationship with mine. his profession is in the back of my head and although i kind of want him to psychoanalyze me, i don't really want to be psychoanalyzed in that moment. he asks me why i don’t fear being vulnerable. i don’t know how he’s gathered that from knowing me for less than a week. i fumble a response. i'm never articulate in the moment. it's rare for me to say anything genius in real time. he smiles at me a lot. i can't remember if i smile back. he tells me he read something i wrote, how i wanted to take black and white photos of a lover. he tells me maybe one day i can take black and white photos of him. i don't imagine him far into my future so i shrug and say, maybe. what else is there to say?

i fill the silence by telling him the city view from his sugar pane window looks like a scene out of blade runner. i don’t know if he’s ever seen blade runner and i don’t ask. he doesn’t say anything in return and i wonder if he even heard what i had said until he finally he admits he’s never seen it. my comparison looms in the space between us. there is a thin layer of fog blanketing the city night but the lights from the what seems like a million apartment windows surrounding us glisten and twinkle. we are very quiet as we continue to look out his window. he grabs my hand again and even though it feels nice, my instinct is telling me to move my hand away. i don’t. he breaks the silence by telling me something that hurts my feelings.

no one around you recognizes your potential.

july 4 9:45 pm

there is a couple who lives across the street from me and they're sitting on their roof watching the fireworks with a bag of hot cheetos and cans of cheap beer. i think this is what love really is.

we're sitting across from each other at a coffee shop he made me walk five miles to. i'm a little upset and i don’t want to be there. to distract myself from the sweat on my upper lip and how damp my armpits feel from walking across the city, i suddenly pull out my journal to manage my discomfort and he asks if he can borrow a piece of paper. i rip one out and he goes to the barista with pretty freckles and long hair the color of brownie mix and asks to borrow a pen. she gives him one with pink ink. we sit there in silence and i don’t know what i’m supposed to be doing. journalling at a coffee shop with a man i barely know feels so fake that i’m embarrassed of myself. i write one sentence in my journal and i cover what i write with my hand so he doesn't read it. he raises an eyebrow at me and says, i'm not going to read what you write.

i know but still.

he stares at me and i decide i am sick of him staring at me all the time. his gaze is heavy and it feels cloying and meaningless. i ask him what he's looking at, what he's thinking about. i know my tone is sharp. his chin is in his hand and he hesitates a little bit. i’m impatient and i tap my pen against the table. i'm getting antsy and i just want a shower and to change out of my sweater. i want my ugly cotton robe and i want to be in my bed.

we're going to get you into medical school. i laugh in his face. i laugh a deep, guttural laugh. he looks confused. medical school? to be a psychiatrist? like you? but I don't want to be a psychiatrist. I never, ever have. i am quiet and the energy shifts. he grabs my hand across the table. he runs his thumb across the spot of skin between my thumb and my index finger.

not even you recognize your potential.

that suspends between us like a pendulum and for once, he's the one to break our gaze. i pull my hands away and hide them between my thighs and the seat of the chair. i never see him again.

he texts me: i, myself, have to process my experience of you.

it makes me feel powerful but maybe in a bad way. when i get to the train station, i call my mom as i wait to board my train. it's 6:00 pm and it's gloomy and the fog is starting to wrap her way around the city. i wrap my coat around me a little tighter. a man rummages in the trash can next to me and asks me if i have a dollar. i happen to have one and give it to him. he mumbles god bless under his breath. my mom's voice brings a sudden flood of relief.

i sit in silence. i never paid much attention to the sounds the train makes but the low hums, rattles, and the sounds of metal grinding against metal are comforting and mellowing. there is a lady sitting across from me. she has bright blonde hair and it's piled high on top of her head. her eyes are closed. her face looks tense and tired. i wonder if she is feeling the same as me.

a man i once knew wrote to me: i feel full and deeply dimensioned, when i communicate with you. i can let myself feel, let my emotions rampage in a way that rarely happens in other parts of my life. in the light of day, i'm buttoned down, and downright serious. there is an ease with you, a reckless freedom. you are not what i am used to. you're better.

i remember deleting his email and never responding.

his accent is like a warm blanket. it's thick and heady. he tries to kiss me on both cheeks except i don't know which direction we're both moving in. we laugh. i tell him he's too french for me. we're at a wine bar in his neighborhood and we're the youngest ones there. we look around the sea of grey heads. sorry i took us to such an old person place. his accent makes it sound more apologetic. my laugh catches in my throat and i feel champagne bubbles in my stomach even though i'm not drinking champagne.

he spreads cheese on baguette for me. he places it on my plate or in my hands. he gives me the first slice of bread. he gives me the end piece of the baguette. we agree it is the best part of it. i read into this more than I should.

his apartment is beautiful with clean lines and panoramic views of the city. he is on the 18th floor. he complains about the size of the space and tells me his apartment in chicago was twice the size and at least ten times more beautiful. he offers photos as proof. the apartment in chicago and the one in san francisco look almost exactly identical. i look around and i don't understand how he can complain. i wonder if this is a character flaw or it's something simpler: a sign of incompatibility.

it's drizzling out. he asks me if we should take an umbrella. i tell him i think we’ll be okay. by the time we leave for the restaurant, it's almost pouring. he clicks his tongue and shakes his head, almost in disbelief, as if rain doesn’t exist in france. he doesn't laugh. my smile disappears a little. he's quiet and the excitement of walking in the rain doesn't seem so exciting and fun anymore. we walk quickly and finally find an overhang. he grumbles about taking an uber. the city seems just a little less magic.

he gives me a glass of scotch and tells me to try it. i barely take half a sip. it feels like gasoline down my throat. i cough and shake my head. i can barely say, oh god. he laughs and tells me not to drink it so i don't and leave the glass on his coffee table. it's getting late and i'm sober but the scotch loosens him up and he shares painful and intense stories of his last relationship. he's clearly suffering but aren't we all suffering from something? i feel like i need to offer a story to him. to let him know, i know i know i know. i open my mouth and tell a story that i don't tell often, if at all. suffering understands suffering. he listens and his eyes narrow. our stories are not the same. i remember how sharply that stung and how it made me suck in my breath.

it’s late but i want to take the train the back home. or if i need to, i want to take an uber all the way back to the south bay. his comment made me feel humiliated and ugly and i can’t imagine spending the night. i tell him that i am going to go, i tell him it’s getting late. i think i tell him i have things to do in the morning even though that’s a lie. i just want to get out of his beautiful apartment and scour my ears of his beautiful accent telling me that his pain was greater than mine. he looks shocked and he tells me i should stay. he coaxes me to stay and even though i don’t want to, i don’t know how to say no and i think about the cost of the uber and how i can’t really afford it and i think about how exhausting taking the last train out of san francisco is so i push my humiliation aside and get into bed with him. i am in in his bed and i face his bedroom wall made up of floor to ceiling windows and i don’t sleep that night. he sleeps soundly next to me and we do not touch. i watch the night turn into dawn from the 18th floor.

i tell him when he looks at me, he doesn't see a future but sees his past. he tries to argue this but it doesn't matter how hard he tries to tell me i am wrong. i know i am right and this is why he will lose me.

i was reading bluets by maggie nelson and leaning against the glass pane of the museum doing exactly what i told him i would be doing. reading and waiting. i didn’t notice him step in front of me and lean against the glass pane. and when i finally noticed him, i lowered my book and we smiled at each other.

a note i wrote on the train 6/4 12:11 pm:

people always make faces and cringe when they see two people kissing in public. i just saw a couple embracing in between two cars, one was a navy blue camry and the other was a sea foam green prius. their faces were smashed against each other and both their noses seemed to have disappeared. i saw this in a flash as the train raced by. people always whisper and make faces when they see two people quietly kissing over a glass of wine in a dimly lit restaurant on a friday night. people always stare with disdain and i don’t understand it because i love it. feelings should be loud and seen and felt. a public declaration, why not!! but maybe da vinci was right when he said love is something so ugly that the human race would die out if lovers could see what they were doing.

he spotted the moon making her appearance, pointed at it, and looked at me.

would he realize that this simple gesture meant something to me?

he told me, oh you smell nice and i replied with a thank you. he paused then smelled his own wrist and said, actually, it’s me that smells good and he sticks his wrist out under my nose to smell his skin. all i could smell was a faint scent that made me think of burnt toast mixed with smoke. i nod and say, ah. my hair is piled on top of my head and he leans in the curve of my neck and sniffs. i could feel the tip of his nose against my skin. you smell good, too. it was then, at that very moment, that i decided i didn’t like him very much.

about a man i felt warmly towards: we were at the deyoung and i was nervous he didn’t like me much anymore because he kept looking at paintings far away from me but all of a sudden, i felt his arm slide around my waist and he pulled me a little closer to him and we stood like that in front of a very ugly painting without saying a word.

you tell yourself, ‘don’t give so much this time. just a little, just a bit’ but you forget and you love to break your own heart. but after it’s all passed, you marvel at how much more you have left to give. she told you not to give away pieces of your heart so easily because you won’t have anything left to give to someone who matters. you agreed with her even though deep down, you know there is an overflow.

natalie is the only tattoo artist i go to in the bay area. she’s done almost all of my tattoos and coincidentally, they are all my favorite ones. natalie is not only so incredibly talented at what she does but she is also so effortlessly cool and effusively warm and friendly. she’s endlessly patient when it comes to figuring out the right placement and is so collaborative and assuring when it comes to the design. throughout our many conversations at her studio, i’ve come to love the way natalie approaches her artistry which translates to her every day life. she is someone that is genuine in their love for their work and the people they get to meet and encounter and you can tell from the moment you meet her.

you can find natalie here and here.

when was the last time you fell asleep easily? i fall asleep easily most nights, to be honest. my full bedtime routine sets me up to knockout as soon as my head hits my pillow.

what makes your home feel like your home? omg don’t get me started on my home because i swear i will not shut up about it; my home/abode/girl cave is my everything. mood lighting, unique facebook marketplace finds, plants, art! i used to really enjoy ultra modern interiors, but since i’ve gotten older my taste has transformed into loving a more eclectic space. i love when my apartment looks lived in - water glasses, shoes, etc lying around in an oddly satisfying way.

what word do you find powerful or meaningful? peace

when was the last time you felt bliss? nature will always put me in the best mood, that and food. so combine the two, get a little picnic going with comforting company, and i’ll surely feel bliss. the last time was a couple weeks ago. It was a sunny day on the lake with some wine, fruit, and sandwiches on good bread - perfection.

if you could say anything to anyone right now, what would it be? i would tell my mom how much i appreciate her, she deserves to hear it more than just on her birthday and mother’s day. this is my sign to text her now.

what is something you wish younger you understood? patience.

what song plays inside your head when you’re feeling down? any sade song. her music helps me romanticize being an emo girl.

the last stranger that made you smile. someone who was helping me on the phone. it’s special when you can feel good energy through a phone.

if you could go back in time, would you? i don’t know if i would go back in time to change anything, but i definitely would to relive moments all over again. i feel like it’d be so dope to have a tape of our experiences that we could go back and watch at any time.

savor kindness because cruelty is always possible later, yes or no? yes

the pursuit of true love is never exhausting, yes or no? maybe? still figuring that one out.

pain is a signal, yes or no? no

if you could have one smell on your hands forever, what would it be and why?citrus. i love natural scents. something about the sweetness and brightness of citrus is *chefs kiss*.

what is art? art is the light in life. anyone can create art. when someone sits down and creates something, putting their effort, style, and love (or sadness) into it, that is 100% art. my dad used to always say he didn’t have an artistic bone in his body. he recently retired and started painting these stripy abstract pieces. he described that “zoned out feeling” you get when you’re immersed in creating as a feeling he’s yet to have felt in his 62 years. he now regularly re-ups on art supplies. that is the beauty of art. cooking is art, writing is art, gardening is art, music is art. art is the most magnificent substance in life.

how do you celebrate your birthday? with friends! outside! good food and drinks! nothing like spending your special day surrounded by the people you love.

heartbreak or loss smells like: paper, bleach, rain on concrete.

childhood smells like: plastic, grass, waffle cones, sunscreen.

what did you hate most as a child? the color pink

if you had a child, what would you want them to know? to treat everyone with kindness.

what dish would you make for someone you care for? i make a mean miso butter pasta. so probably that accompanied by a fresh little salad.

what article of clothing feels most like you? shoes

if you could speak to your 15-year-old self, what would you say? “wlow down. enjoy your young days. there’s no reason to have life planned out now, things will work out beyond your imagination.” this year i’ve learned a lot about living in the moment, and i wish i had learned that sooner.

what’s an act of humanity you witnessed that made you feel something? my friends and i were grabbing some dessert the other night. one of my girlies noticed someone who worked there as they took trash out in the front of the building. she simply said hello and wished them a nice day. he found us all sitting together about 10 minutes later and brought 3 extra tubs of their dessert specials for the day, and said that she made his day. i find it really special when we can share happiness in those ways. we ended up crying about how sweet of a moment it was LOL.

what age do you never want to be again? twenty.

what color describes you? butter yellow.

what color describes your first love? bright red.

what do you miss? long phone calls with my grandma.

what is your favorite part of loving someone? being selfless.

what is the most important thing life has taught you? to stop being so hard on myself. it takes active practicing, but i think that life has become more peaceful with giving myself more grace. being hard on myself meant burying my emotions - criticizing my emotions in times of sadness, pain, weakness. i learned that in the long run it helps to be there for myself in those moments. since learning this, i always try to remember that i’m striving for peace with my emotions no matter what i’m feeling, not trying to force unrealistic happiness.

what life do you hope parallel-life you is living? i really hope she’s an actress. i always think about how fun that would be. it was my dream job when i was a kid.

what feels freeing to you? driving down the california coast with a good indie playlist blasting. traveling alone. that feeling you get when you know you’ve started a new chapter. biking. running.

in what ways have you become more loving? being more selective with who i give all my love to. i’ve seen my relationships prosper by saving my energy and love for those who are really worth it (including myself).

is there a song i should listen to today? oh we’re setting the summer vibes.

when sadness makes its presence known, how do you greet it? by feeling the rush of it. and most likely crying. i’m the world’s biggest cry baby.

what do you see from your favorite window? a bunch of trees.

what did you learn from your grandmother? my grandma taught me to be a bad ass. to not take shit from anyone. to gossip with friends, drink wine, eat good bread with butter. she taught me to always tell people i love them. to travel. to never filter myself. to put pictures all over my walls. and to prioritize friends and family.

what’s an object you possess that is precious to you? my laptop from high school. it has pictures saved from when I was 14 years old to now. i love to spend hours going back and reminiscing, it’s like my little virtual memory book.

wow do you show your love? kissing, cooking, and cuddling.

what was the last wish you made? wishes don’t come true if you reveal them! my lips are sealed.

how do you know when you are in love? it’s very physical for me. it’s a tingly feeling in my gut, a sense of excitement. anything involving this person can make me tear up (world’s biggest crybaby). i’ll fantasize about the future with this person. i’ll want to tell them about random snippets from my day. i’ll enjoy the most mundane things just because i am with them.

what do you find very overrated? random hookups.

what are your favorite kind of gifts to give? and to receive?

to give: unique flowers, a sit down dinner, experiences, baked goods.

to receive: items of clothing or home goods when someone knows my taste

when was the last time you laughed so hard your stomach ached? when i was really high the other day - it was one of those moments where i couldn’t even tell you what was funny.

biggest pet peeve. when people are rude to servers.

what makes a perfect love song? is it weird that i prefer sad love songs? something i can simp to, with a slow jazzy melody. think amy winehouse, faye webster, and sade ofc.

what makes any day feel like a saturday? saturdays are for sleeping in and rotting around until about 2 PM, so any lazy day like that.

if you could go back in time, what time would you revisit in your life? i’d love to relive my early childhood.

what ice cream flavor makes you feel like a kid again? birthday cake

tattoo etiquette that people might not know but should? hmmm. there truly are those stereotypical “irritating things” that can happen during an appointment that us tattoo artists love to joke around about. tattoos are forever so i try to give people grace with most of these situations that may arise. something i personally struggle to be patient with is when a client is completely indecisive. cince almost all of my appointments are booked around a month ahead of time, i expect a level of choosiness when figuring out a tattoo idea. to go through a couple placements or design tweaks to explore options is totally encouraged, of course; however, when a client struggles to pick between a spot, or even to go as far as not knowing the overall idea for the tattoo they want, it can feel wasteful of my time. for example, i had an appointment where a client had spent 2 hours to decide between moving something 2 inches apart just to reschedule to think about it some more. times like this usually makes me feel that the client isn’t ready for the tattoo; in those cases i’d much rather not tattoo them until they’re really sure. all this comes from the overhanging fear of completing a tattoo that someone could regret. so, my overall advice is: when you get a tattoo, be particular! it’s much easier to work with that than read someone’s mind.

finish this sentence: to be loved is __________to be seen in your most authentic form.

where do you go from here? i’m really just taking life day by day! the future could really hold anything for me. it’s a both frightening and liberating feeling, but i couldn’t be more excited to look back and see what i accomplish in the next 5 years.

after you answer these questions, what will you do today? i finished these questions on my way to NY, off to make more memories <3

thank you so much, natalie!

if you have any tattoo related (etiquette, what to expect etc) questions, leave a comment and natalie will give her takes.

there are periods of time where i am so profoundly tired of the internet. i’m tired of always reaching for my phone out of habit, scrolling makes me sick, i am tired of seeing things on repeat that are basically the same, only just a little different. right now, i am the most tired of seeing my own social media. and if we’re being brutally honest, i think i’m just really tired of caring or pretending to care about discourse, the week’s most viral articles, whose doing what, who said what, who is cooking what, everyone’s self importance, my own instagram grid. it’s all grating my nerves. it all feels so trite. i’ve been going through a long period of that; the internet and participating in it and observing it even from a distance feels like a chore. i know it’s a boring sentiment.

i don’t argue that.

sometimes during the week, i stay a night at my apartment because i tell jeremy i have to ‘work’. i don’t know what that means anymore. sometimes it means i open up my laptop and stare blankly at the screen until 1 am, hoping i feel inspired to share something personal and vulnerable enough that will pique connection and interest. i know a simple recipe is not enough. i sit in bed with the tv on in the background, rotating through my rolodex of memories in my twenties and even my early thirties where i fucked up, crawled out of a sadness or had a life changing epiphany that i could share; a memory or a feeling i could translate into words that will make people feel their $8 a month is worth it. but lately, i’ve been wanting to hoard these memories for myself. not because they’re precious, too profound or too intimate; i just don’t have the energy to pick myself apart.

maybe i’m tired of doing that. maybe i am tired of picking myself apart. how many times can i do that before it becomes monotonous? atoning for my past self? maybe, i am tired of explaining and apologizing for how i was and can be an ugly person, irresponsible, irrational, careless and mediocre; revisiting the mistakes and bad decisions i’ve made in hopes of people feeling like they can relate or feel less alone in their own story. lately, i’ve been feeling selfish and greedy with my own feelings. i want to keep them for myself. maybe it’s because for the first time in a long time, i feel calmer than i ever have. i don’t know why but i find myself not wanting to figure it out or think about it too much. sometimes jeremy will ask me what i’m thinking about and i find myself saying, nothing because it’s true. i feel like i am just existing, not to write about on the internet, somewhere not in the past and not so far in the future.

i am just existing, here, right now and it feels blissful and peculiar and unfamiliar and i want to keep that feeling for as long as i can.

i’ve been making a lot of ice cream this summer. my first batch was this very rich vanilla bean and i think it was the best ice cream i’ve ever made. it was so creamy and rich and texturally, it had a slight chew which sounds weird but it wasn’t. i used the nyt ice cream recipe as a general base recipe and have played around with it. the latest ice cream i’ve made is a coffee lover’s ice cream where i used an insane amount of instant colombian coffee (like maybe 1/3 cup because i do not like the faint coffee flavored ice cream) with ribbons of caramel throughout.

next time, i would use a bit less coffee to not make it so pow!!!! but when paired with a fudgy black cocoa brownie, it balanced out and was pretty fucking good. the next ice cream flavor i want to try is a brown butter ice cream base with a fresh blueberry compote swirled in and crushed graham crackers. i don’t know. don’t ask.

very easy black cocoa brownie recipe:

1 cup brown sugar

3/4 cup white granulated sugar

1 cup melted butter (salted)

1/2 tsp of salt

1/2 tsp baking powder

4 eggs

1/2 cup + 2 tbs of black cocoa

1 1/2 cup ap flour

semi-sweet chocolate chunks or caramel

preheat oven to 375 degrees.

mix all ingredients together in one bowl (minus caramel if using) making sure everything is well incorporated but do not overmix. in a 9x9 square pan lined with parchment, pour in batter. drizzle caramel on top before baking for 20-25 minutes or until the edges pull away from the pan and the center is just a touch wobbly but mostly firm.

lunch has been snack plates with a lot of stone fruit, tomatoes, some sort of cheese, bread and sugar snap peas for cleo. one of my favorite stone fruits are apricots. a super sweet and ripe apricot does something to my brain that no other stone fruit does.

jeremy planted a saturn peach tree as soon as we moved into our house a couple years ago. it finally yielded a bounty of peaches and they’re so incredibly sweet and i wish i could bottle the smell of ripe peach skin. he’s very proud.

good things: blueberries from monterey market and perfect english peas.

favorite thing i’ve made this week: clams with spaghetti, peas and fresno chili

saute 1 whole diced shallot and 5 cloves of minced garlic in 2 tbs of olive oil and 2 tbs of salted butter until softened. add the clams and 1/2 cup of white wine to the pan and close with a lid for several minutes until clams are starting to open up and the wine cooks off. add the fresno chili, the cooked spaghetti, peas and 1/2 cup of pasta water if necessary. taste for seasoning and add a heavy squeeze of lemon juice and freshly cracked black pepper.

4th of july consisted of chicago dogs and wine from my favorite specialty grocery store, of all places and a zooted cleo.

a classic chicago hot dog consists of: authentic sport peppers, tomatoes, mustard, onion, dill pickle, celery salt.

molly baz put me onto fresh dill on a hot dog and i have to agree, for dill loving girls, it’s good.

the best garlic french fries and an insanely good blue corn cookie from alta bakery in monterey. i can’t stop thinking about how good that corn cookie was and after posting it on instagram, i didn’t know it was so well known and so popular. i totally understand why. it’s incredibly good.

a porchetta sandwich and the best aperol spritz (x2) i’ve had in a long, long time in a park in the city on a beautiful sunny day which made me tipsy and sun drowsy.

and xoxo to mediocre meals that satiate hunger even if they aren’t the best, or the prettiest, or the most delicious.

fusili with pan cooked chicken thighs, roasted rell beppers, artichoke hearts, basil and parmesan with olive oil and lemon.

a very strange salad with chicken sausage, avocado, sungolds, heirloom tomatoes, red onion, dill, feta, and cucumber with a lot of oregano and black pepper.

thank you for being here.

with loving scrutiny.

sophia winnikoff is not only the brand director for shop rlt but they are also a baker of whimsical baked goods, a model, a curator of beautiful farmer’s market produce and a loving parent to their dog, kato. sophia’s ability to show tenderness and beauty in the moments of every day life is something i have always found very comforting and so genuine. social media can be a place where things feel contrived or overly curated but sophia’s social media presence has always been one that i look forward to seeing on my feed. it feels like a gift to be privy to the quiet scenes of their life.

you can find sophia here and here.

when was the last time you fell asleep easily? falling asleep is a fickle friend for me. recently i’ve found it easier when reading [currently nearing the end of big swiss by jen beagin]. i’m the type who usually needs a whole routine, including sleepy time tea, magnesium, white noise and mouth tape, but i do remember a few weeks back simply falling asleep to silence. i think it was a saturday.

what makes your home feel like your home? the way my pup kato rushes to greet me when i open the door; the warm orange tinted beam from the skylight in the bathroom; my love, mik, yelling hello from upstairs. my coffee table that i found off of facebook marketplace that is really just an old oak library table with the legs cut down. my collection of cups and plates that do not match. honestly, the ‘clutter’ as some may say, makes it feel like home. i’ve always wished to be a minimalist, and while i’m definitely improving my collector ways, i am not one of those people to have a spotless home. maybe someday if i have a bit more space it will feel a little more put together and intentional. but for now, i’m coming to peace with the little and big things that make my space what it is.

what word do you find powerful or meaningful? gentle and unclouded

when was the last time you felt bliss? i feel bliss often in los angeles -- particularly as golden hour graces the hills or the ocean. summer has me emotional, and the light and water reflects that.

if you could say anything to anyone right now, what would it be? i would tell my mom thank you, and i love you.

what is something you wish younger you understood? your existence is not incorrect, and there is no need to hurry.

what song plays inside your head when you’re feeling down? honestly i don’t have just one — a strong rotation between death with dignity by sufjan stevens, luck of the draw by bella porter, anything by phoebe bridges or joni mitchell

the last stranger that made you smile. a little kid that asked to pet kato <3

if you could go back in time, would you? i think so. would depend on whether i could return.

savor kindness because cruelty is always possible later, yes or no? yes, always.

the pursuit of true love is never exhausting, yes or no? initially my response to this was yes, but upon further thought i would say no. i think the pursuit of true love is often exhausting, and also ultimately rewarding and very worth the energy. my not very hot take is that love takes a lot of work and time. parts of it may come very easily, and others not so much. i do think you should never have to pretend to be someone you’re not for true love.

pain is a signal, yes or no? yes. listen to your heart and body.

if you could have one smell on your hands forever, what would it be and why? i truly cannot put my finger on one. probably kato’s ears right after a bath, sea salt at sunset, or my mother’s perfume.

what is art? as an art major, i should have some poetic, specific or arcane answer. but truly i think art is anything that makes you feel, learn, or bring you into a different form of being than you were before.

how do you celebrate your birthday? i try to simply have the best day i can, whatever that means year to year. since my mom passed it has become a bittersweet day that has become sweeter and sweeter each year. i want to eat what i want, see loved ones, and dip in the ocean if possible.

heartbreak or loss smells like: vomit, bleach, and salt.

childhood smells like: green beans off the vine, brisket with deeply caramelized onions, tangerine peels, fresh baked chocolate chip cookies, ocean mist

what did you hate most as a child? sleeping away from home

if you had a child, what would you want them to know? i'd want them to know they are loved and to trust their heart

what dish would you make for someone you care for? my mom’s noodle kugel, with raisins always. or an elaborate cake with that person’s favorite flavors.

what article of clothing feels most like you? my first pair of vintage levi's i bought on a whim off etsy 3 days after my 21st birthday. they are softer than sweatpants and follow my body in all its fluctuations and forms. an item past me knew would hold future me, without expectation.

if you could speak to your 15-year-old self, what would you say? i would say your heart will break again and again. and you'll keep going.

what’s an act of humanity you witnessed that made you feel something? while it may be selfish to say this, my partner’s compassion and caring for me. i’ve been going through some health issues, and his unwavering support has made me feel so seen and loved. on that note, the other people in my life who have continued to check in. i feel as adults we often get so whisked away in our lives [myself included], and i find it really touching when people take the time to reach out and say hello.

what age do you never want to be again? 12-13

what color describes you? midnight

what color describes your first love? raspberry

what do you miss? my mom, every day

what is your favorite part of loving someone? the little pieces of them we continue to gather. and the people we get to know and love as one grows and changes.

what is the most important thing life has taught you? while you may be able to make it on your own, you do not have to. connection and community are gifts and resources.

what life do you hope parallel-life you is living? i hope parallel me is thriving in a coastal european town. i work in a small cafe a few times a week, and otherwise tend to the earth and have a small studio to create. i get to swim every day. i live within walking distance from my best friend.

what is a miracle? happy accidents, soulmate connections, dogs

what feels freeing to you? growing older

in what ways have you become more loving? i’m not sure if it applies but i’m no longer afraid of commitment. i’m also trying to write more letters and in general openly express my affection and care.

is there a song i should listen to today? best of my love by the emotions

when sadness makes its presence known, how do you greet it? i cry. a lot. sometimes i’ll go for a run until i break down. or push my body to its end with a hike or work out. and sometimes i make a pb+j and sit in bed because i can’t do anything else.

what do you see from your favorite window? my favorite window in our home is a little porthole window — the circular windows are why i fell in love with our place. to be honest, the view isn’t particularly spectacular, and but at the end of the day the sunset is so special. alternatively, for 8 months or so our neighbors had a blue tarp covering their roof which beamed cool light directly into our home, and the off kilter color balance drove me a little nuts. luckily the tarp has since graduated onto bigger and better things.

what did you learn from your grandmother? my mom’s mother taught me the value of kindness and joy, as well as a love for music and theater. my father’s mother taught me to never stop learning, and that honesty is always the best policy.

what’s an object you possess that is precious to you? anything that belonged to my mother, but specifically her wedding ring and kitchenaid stand mixer.

how do you show your love? often through words, i try to tell those i love how much they mean to me as much as i can. additionally little everyday gifts of a sweet treat, and ultimately just trying to be as emotionally available for them as i can be.

what was the last wish you made? the last wish i made was to live a long life in good health with those i love.

how do you know when you are in love? when my heart feels like a honeypot in the sun as i look in their eyes.

what do you find very overrated? trying to impress people, especially with material goods

what are your favorite kind of gifts to give? and to receive? i love to find niche, unique pieces second hand that feel like my loved one. alternatively, a baked good i know they love. sometimes i’ll buy a gift months in advance just because it is perfect. alternatively, as mentioned, i love to give and receive the small every day gifts. the little jar of jam someone gave me because they thought of me, a small bouquet of flowers — something my mom instilled in me. lastly, kisses, the best gift of all.

when was the last time you laughed so hard your stomach ached? it’s very silly, but i picked mik up from a round of golf and then drove him to burger king because he wanted it for dinner. he ordered an 8 piece and 12 piece of chicken fries. as he dug in, it became clear that these were not chicken fries but mozzarella sticks. 20 mozzarella sticks. why it was so funny i could not tell you.

biggest pet peeve -- people texting in movie theaters, blasting music on the trail [especially if hiking alone], folks who are rude to service workers, people who speak really loudly when it's unnecessary....can you tell i have misophonia?

what makes a perfect love song? nostalgia or excitement that makes me smile or want to throw up

what makes any day feel like a saturday? mondays are my saturdays, so i have some skill in this. i won’t set an alarm if i can help it. snuggle kato when i wake and then go for a nice hike. craft a really nice meal. go catch a movie if i can, maybe take a pilates class. bake something i feel inspired by. and ideally watching the sunset with a friend at capri club, martini in hand.

if you could go back in time, what time would you revisit in your life? i would definitely revisit my childhood, probably ages 3-6. i truly feel endlessly lucky to have the upbringing i did. and i would love to remember it more clearly.

finish this sentence: to be loved is __________ to be seen, heard, and held.

what doesn't scare you anymore? my queerness. it's taken me a long time to greet and be proud of it.

what ice cream flavor makes you feel like a kid again? vanilla carvel soft serve in a cup, fosters freeze chocolate soft serve in a cake cone, and ben + jerry's cherry garcia.

where do you go from here? to give myself more space and time to work towards what feels important, all while relishing everything i get to hold now. trying to move into more softness. enjoying the gifts of summer, namely ocean dips and stone fruit and berries.

after you answer these questions, what will you do today? give kato many kisses, go to the doctor, and probably pick up a piece of my favorite cake as a treat.

i am severely lacking the ability to focus in the last couple weeks. i wrote a piece for gloobles which i was so grateful and honored to do while i was sick and waiting to test positive for covid. but my brain has been so foggy and my thoughts have been so discombobulated that i wonder if i somehow contracted a case of long covid. i also blame my adhd but ethan tells me everyone has trouble focusing and it’s not just me. he tells me everyone feels like this but you just have to do it. i know he’s right but it feels especially hard for me (almost verging on impossible) lately and when i say lately, i mean in the last 6.5 days. i set aside monday and tuesday as days for me to sit and substack because i wanted to write about when i ran away from home and how a family friend gave me 2k in cash in a white envelope for my cause and how i promised i would pay them back but they knew i wouldn’t and how i roadtripped around the united states in my red volkswagon jetta with a boy i didn’t know who would turn out to be a monster and made me grow up too quickly and how i started wondering if i made a mistake of running away while i played in the white sandy dunes of new mexico and how i couch-surfed on a random man’s couch in a small town in north dakota barely separated from his bed by a thin sheet and how i couldn’t care less because i just wanted to sleep and how delusional i felt sleeping in my car in an empty parking lot in the middle of south dakota trying to convince myself that sleeping in a parking lot with $10 left was me really living and how in the process of trying to be young and free, i shattered my mom’s heart into a million fucking pieces and how on a highway in missouri, chain-smoking my fifteenth cigarette, i was miserably homesick but too prideful to say i wanted to go home so i just didn’t for months which turned into a year which then turned into three years.

i wanted to write about all of this because maybe you also had the desire to be recklessly selfish when you were young and bored and it became an experience where you look back and you despise your younger self a little more than necessary but also feel a sense of awe at your stupidity. it took me 48 hours to just write 3 paragraphs because i feel so distracted and my mind feels elsewhere but nowhere specific. my thoughts almost feel too present, like i am thinking more about right now than i ever have before and i don’t know what to do with that. i’m always in the past or in the future or somewhere else entirely. it feels strange that i am so focused in the present day, in the most present moment. and i haven’t been consistent with taking my prozac so i can feel a shadow of depression settling in which doesn’t help.

i’ve been thinking about social media and how i feel like i am losing the ability to connect with others or i feel like people no longer feel like they can connect with me. maybe it’s simply that social media is outgrowing me and it’s actually me who can’t keep up. last week, jeremy took me out to dinner and after a few gulps of my aperol spritz, i told him i can’t help but feel like some sort of loser for not growing or maintaining relevance on my own instagram page in a way that i had in the past. i felt my cheeks get hot in the middle of the restaurant as i admitted that. i felt so incredibly embarrassed for admitting something so childish and trite. i always tried telling myself that i didn’t care and it didn’t matter but i guess i can admit that it does.

all that to say, i’m here but i’m not here. i’m here in the present so it’s been hard for me to visit the past. i want to go back and visit because i want to connect, i want to share and i want to be open and vulnerable. selfishly, i want to feel like my social media is still useful for something, even if it’s insignificant in the grander scheme of things.

but maybe just right now, i’m earthbound.

an important question is back this week and i can’t wait for you to read.

thank you for being here, always. i’m really happy you are.

editor’s note: i unintentionally put things paolo finds overrated and underrated in the same question. it has been corrected.

paolo cui is the founder and owner of idle worship, a san francisco brand built on craft and focused on pushing fabrics forward. i was first introduced to paolo’s work through my brother and very quickly, idle worship’s vibrantly colored hand dyed cotton socks became a staple in my wardrobe. he has since expanded to producing beautiful cowhide belts, leather wallets dyed with natural materials (like persimmon) and sashiko repaired vintage denim. i truly admire paolo and his work because his work is so clearly created from passion, incredible knowledge and intention while maintaining a sense of playfulness that i find so refreshing and cool.

you can find idle worship’s site here, instagram here, tiktok here, twitter here .

when was the last time you fell asleep easily? last night, i had a long day.

what makes your home feel like your home? feeling weightless as soon as i cross the threshold.

what word do you find powerful or meaningful? discipline.

when was the last time you felt bliss? driving a motorbike in vietnam driving from da nang to hoi an. my lady’s arms on my shoulder, wind all up in my face as the sun set with the promise of really good banh mi at the destination.

if you could say anything to anyone right now, what would it be? discourse around tipping is so dumb because the loudest voices are of people who are privileged enough to not depend on a gratuity for their livelihood.

what is something you wish younger you understood?

-everything that you’re doing now is building the foundation for the man you’re going to become.

-learn from other peoples mistakes even if they don’t see it as such.

-perfection is a moving target.

what song plays inside your head when you’re feeling down? soooo angsty.

the last stranger that made you smile. me and shorty were on a walk when we hit an incline and noticed this old guy wheezing behind us. we said “yo are you good?” he replied, “i’m just old, this happens. thanks for checking up on me i might catch up to you at this rate.” while we were waiting at the light he walked up to us, shook our hands, and said “hey, i really appreciate you taking the care to do that” i told him we can race next time and he laughed and we both went about our days. i hope i still have a sense of humor if i get old.

if you could go back in time, would you? nah. time travel is my least favorite plot device. traveling back in time to change the present day would create an alternate reality that the one we live in, and if i’m going back to just spectate…well then what’s the point.

savor kindness because cruelty is always possible later, yes or no? sure.

the pursuit of true love is never exhausting, yes or no? if it’s the right person it’s never a chore.

pain is a signal, yes or no? you ever touch a hot pan twice?

if you could have one smell on your hands forever, what would it be and why? i like any hand cream that has citrus, idle worship has taken quite a toll on my hands and i like to take care of them when i remember to.

what ice cream flavor makes you feel like a kid again? any swirl combination frozen yogurt.

what is art? distilling the surrounding environment and personal experiences to give it form.

how do you celebrate your birthday? i gotta go outside; long ass hike or a bike ride, ideally both but thats asking for a lot. dinner from a hole in the wall restaurant that doesn’t take reservations and seeing my friends at a shitty dive bar after. preferably benders (it’s always benders).

heartbreak or loss smells like: smoke.

childhood smells like: fresh calamansi and cinnamon sugar pop tarts.

what did you hate most as a child? growing up quickly.

if you had a child, what would you want them to know? don’t trust anyone who brags about getting over on people. asking “how” and “why” will change your life. look people in the eyes when you talk to them. choose your words carefully and mean what you say. your compliments should be as good as your insults. and most importantly i’d want them to know that they’re loved by their parents and we’d do anything to make them happy.

what dish would you make for someone you care for? i make a mean ass ragu bolognese.

what article of clothing feels most like you? this sashiko vest i hand stitched. it’s an old carhartt vest from who knows when. i felt like pushing the limits of what i can do with sashiko so i decided to just stitch up the entire thing with my favorite pattern. it’s super loud but i’ve never seen anyone else be dumb enough to make something like this.

if you could speak to your 15-year-old self, what would you say? all those weird interests you have now that you think other people think are lame are going to pay your rent in the most beautiful city in the world one day lil man.

what’s an act of humanity you witnessed that made you feel something? shinsuke saved my life by honking at a car that was going to hit me in the crosswalk the other day.

what age do you never want to be again? every age i’ve ever been has contributed to who i am today, good and bad.

what color describes you? green.

what color describes your first love? purple.

what do you miss? i miss liking the holidays, my dog shadow, and being ignorant; knowledge is a burden.

what is your favorite part of loving someone? being loved back.

what is the most important thing life has taught you? everyone is just getting by one way or another.

what life do you hope parallel-life you is living? hope he’s happy.

what is a miracle? everything has an explanation.

what feels freeing to you? wiping the rust from the chain off my hands onto my pants every time i roll up the door to the studio.

in what ways have you become more loving? i’ve learned to be more empathetic and less self centered. younger me was a real fixer upper.

is there a song i should listen to today? on max volume.

when sadness makes its presence known, how do you greet it? i used to deny that i was sad and tried to drown it out through work or socializing but since so much of myself is in my work, i can tell when my mood seeps into what i’m making. the day my pre-frontal cortex locked into place i feel like i gained emotional maturity and learned how to compartmentalize my feelings. when i’m sad i like to do things that make me feel good which is usually taking a run up twin peaks and drinking a smoothie.

what do you see from your favorite window? sutro tower from my old kitchen window.

what did you learn from your grandmother? meals aren’t just about food.

what’s an object you possess that is precious to you? my lolo’s jade ring. it’s as much a part of my hand as any of my fingers.

how do you show your love? if i love you i’d do things for you that i wouldn’t do for myself.

what was the last wish you made? i pray twice a day, same thing.

how do you know when you are in love? i’ve been in love so long it’s hard to remember anything prior.

what do you find very overrated? spectacle, waiting in line, run clubs, any and all aggregator pages, minimalism, rimowa luggage, cocktail culture, cool guy shit, identifying as a “creative,” name dropping, fashion influencers who dont do their research, _____-core, expensive blank t-shirts, comfort food, spain (the country), chick fil-a, using the word “community” to create a monetized audience, half-assing anything, instagrammable restaurants.

what do you find underrated? ralph lauren visual merchandising, #real #craftsmanship, regionality, chinotto, public transportation, the burger at benders, collecting magazines, life is hell by matt groening, domestic travel, passion projects, gold jewelry, banter, carnitas tacos from el gallo giro, posting on instagram grid, talking loudly in restaurants, biking as a means of transporation, button fly jeans, suzuki trackers, hand painted signs, ebay, being a regular at establishments.

what are your favorite kind of gifts to give? and to receive? my favorite gifts to give are things that are useful. my favorite gifts to receive are things that people made and menthol cigarettes.

when was the last time you laughed so hard your stomach ached? i don’t remember but it was probably something really dumb.

biggest pet peeve. not respecting people’s time.

what makes a perfect love song? you gotta be buried-under-horny-jail horny to make even a good love song.

what makes any day feel like a saturday? an afternoon snack.

if you could go back in time, what time would you revisit in your life? i wouldn’t.

do you believe in timeless design when it comes to clothing? if so, why? if not, why? absolutely not. my favorite designs are timestamped and the coolest things about them are the context in which they exist. timelessness is just a marketing term to get you to buy into preppy every three years.

finish this sentence: to be loved is __________. being met where you are.

where do you go from here? i don’t like talking about anything unless it’s done but i just want to continue to make good work and be paid fairly for it.

after you answer these questions, what will you do today? get a run in, eat chicken adobo, buy some ben davis pants to wear to a wedding (hope the bride doesn’t see this), finish a patchwork project, work on the next iteration of idle worship, repair a pair of jeans, and maybe watch some dragon ball z if i have some time in between.

i love living in berkeley but something i don’t always love is that it rarely feels like summer when i want it to really feel like summer. often, it’s a light 68 degrees when i am craving the sun, sometimes i want the sweaty armpits, the light sheen of sweat on the upper lip, the laying out a beach towel to suntan after swimming at the community pool, the restlessness that comes with the weather being hot and sticky, the warm balmy nights that make you want to do something impulsive and crazy, the appetite for only stone fruit and tomatoes and the desire to eat out more and cook less.

although we haven’t had a consistent string of warm summery days, i am still trying to eat like it’s a real true summer.

breaded chicken cutlets with a tomato/snap pea/sungold/mozzarella salad (another version: crispy chicken cutlet with a crunchy salad made of sugar snap peas, radishes, red cabbage, celery, dill, chives, fennel, endives and mustard seed, recipe here.

leftover breaded chicken cutlets in a baguette sandwich with prosciutto, basil, calabrian chili, olive oil, mozzarella (another version: chicken cutlet, greens dressed in olive oil, lemon, salt, a bit of whole grain mustard, parmesan. and another version: chicken cutlet on lightly toasted baguette, parmesan butter asparagus spritzed with lemon juice, thinly sliced radish and flaky salt, freshly grated parmesan, dill and chervil and a bit of mayo).

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annie balto is the founder of nour, a salad dressing that is much more than just salad dressing. annie has created a product that not only encourages us to eat well but also celebrates the privilege we have of enjoying nourishing and delicious food with our loved ones. i love the energy that annie exudes; it’s bright and pure and there is something so authentic about how she lives her life that i can’t help but admire and adore it all.

you can find annie here and here.

when was the last time you fell asleep easily? last night actually. my circadian rhythm and i have fallen into quite a tango together. we’re in a very good place. i have gotten pretty clear on what i need to do on a daily and weekly basis to allow for a smooth transition into slumber and most importantly, to stay in slumber.

what makes your home feel like your home? my yellow painting, i love staring at it and seeing the different tones of yellow pop off the wall depending on what type of light is hitting it. my favorite is when the golden hour light pours in and the room glows. lately I’ve been burning a lot of aesop sarashina aromatique incense. it’s been a really nice ritual if i’m working from home or getting ready for bed, i love an invitation to feel hugged and wrapped up by the scent of the air.

what word do you find powerful or meaningful? nourishment and euphoria.

when was the last time you felt bliss? floating in the ocean with the sun on my face.

if you could say anything to anyone right now, what would it be? you’re exactly where you are suppose to be. try not to fight it (“it” being life). move with the wave, not against it. life unveils itself to you in mysterious ways if you listen.

what is something you wish younger you understood? listen to your body. trust yourself. your gut is your most tuned in brain.

what song plays inside your head when you’re feeling down? anything by billie eilish

the last stranger that made you smile? someone who smiled at me on a walk, so i smiled back

if you could go back in time, would you? maybe but just to sneak a few minutes of floating in the mediterranean sea

savor kindness because cruelty is always possible later, yes or no? YES! savor every kind moment in this life.

the pursuit of true love is never exhausting, yes or no? oh the duality. love is wonderful and it’s all we have, but it can also be exhausting. love can be work, and confronting parts of you that you may have never explored before.

pain is a signal, yes or no? yes i like to think of pain in two categories, soft pain and hard pain.

soft pain is the type of pain that comes from doing something painful that you know is ultimately good for your long-term joy and wellbeing. ie: sitting in a cold plunge or breaking up with someone you love because you know you both need to grow independently outside of the relationship.

hard pain is just all around hard with little to no light. it’s painful and there’s no positive spin to it. think of unexpected death or terminal illness regarding someone you love. it’s just hard and painful. life is full of both and there are lessons and signals weaved into all of it.

if you could have one smell on your hands forever, what would it be and why?

wow, this is such an interesting question and i’m finding it so hard to answer. it’s like asking what color i would like to see the world in if i could only choose one. i guess intuitively the last and only thing i would never get sick of smelling over and over again would be fresh air. specifically the crisp morning air in a forest or by the ocean. something that smells like that.

what is art? anything that you want it to be. anything you find beautiful or inspirational. anything that reminds you that you’re a spiritual being having a human experience.

how do you celebrate your birthday? i prefer to wake up in a place where i don’t know anyone, and i like there to be the least amount of pressure and expectations possible, i like to keep it simple. this last year i was in los alamos with two of my best friends. it was the day after New Years Day and pretty much everything was closed and it kind of forced us to have a slow day and i really liked that. simple and full of sunshine.

heartbreak or loss smells like: a rotting vacant grave of emptiness and nothingness of what used to be..sour and sweet

childhood smells like: warm brownies, breakfast egg sandwiches, the plastic of barbies and old paper smell from vhs covers

what did you hate most as a child? being a child and not feeling like i had control or autonomy. isn’t it quite odd to think that we had to ask permission to use the bathroom to relieve ourselves from age 5 to 18 (kindergarten to senior year, that’s 13 years of our life).

if you had a child, what would you want them to know? everyday you have the option to start over.

what dish would you make for someone you care for?

for breakfast: shakshuka. that’s a very personal dish from a specific time in my life.

for lunch: a big ass salad with steak or chicken tossed with a bunch of fresh herbs, vegetables, pan toasted nuts and seeds, and tossed in my salad dressing.

for dinner: anything in the new kismet cookbook.

what article of clothing feels most like you? my butter yellow asics sneakers.

if you could speak to your 15-year-old self, what would you say? life is going to get better, you will find all of the answers you’re searching for through the people you meet, the experiences you have, and your inner knowing. it’s not going to be easy but you are going to perceiver and every year your destiny will become more clear to you. you are loved and you will love yourself more than ever. love is going to be all around you.

what’s an act of humanity you witnessed that made you feel something?

i didn’t technically witness this, but my family has been going through a hard year and my dad told me he was crying and a stranger came up to him and hugged him. it made me feel emotional since i wasn’t able to give him a hug.

what age do you never want to be again? however old i was yesterday. life is tiring lol, no looking back now. i’m currently working with my therapist on trying to release the amount of energy i give to the past and focusing on giving my energy to the now and what is possible for the future.

what color describes you? yellow and orange!

what color describes your first love? dark blue.

what do you miss?

i miss the feeling of falling asleep in someone’s arms.

i miss the dog days.

i miss the feeling of being a child with no responsibilities from june - end of august.

i miss the amount of collagen my body used to produce when i notice a new grey hair on my head.

i miss being in love.

i miss having less responsibility.

i miss the parkways in minneapolis.

i miss new york.

i miss the mediterranean sea.

i miss speaking multiple languages.

sometimes i miss the old me who was a bit more naive. i want to hang out with her and ask her a few questions.

i miss ignorance and bliss.

what is your favorite part of loving someone? seeing life through their eyes. that’s so intimate and magical, when someone lets you in. you learn so much. i love that, and its such an honor.

what is the most important thing life has taught you? stay curious and never stop playing.

what life do you hope parallel-life you is living? living in sardinia along the mediterranean water, she wakes up and has a really slow life and no grey hairs. she ages like fine wine because her only task of the day is to garden and harvest vegetables and fruits for her town. she has just the right amount of cortisol in her body, not too little not too much. she is looked after and looks after others. she floats in the sea every day and has freckles from her eyes to her toes. she’s sun kissed every day of the year and knows just how lucky she is. she feels so lucky to be with someone who embraces her every being, she said this life is kismet. she’s been waiting for it. she paints and cooks and listens to music her partner plays. they live in a cottage surrounded by nature, but their friends are over often and the house is full of energy and candlelight.

what is a miracle? something that happens only to people who believe in it. something unexpected and inexplainable. something illogical and magical. something that can never be replicated. something that happens when you least expect it.

what reminds you that you are human? when i walk outside and really take a moment to breathe with the sun. when my body lays down on the floor. when my feet are in the sand. when someone is lashing out at me. when someone i love gives me a big hug. when a stranger is kind to me. when a stranger gives me a compliment. when i get over my .0005 nano second fear of giving a stranger a compliment. when i overcome my fears and hug myself. when i see elderly people holding hands. when i talk to myself like someone i love.

what feels freeing to you? not concerning myself with others opinions. self validation. going to yoga. feeling strong in my body. learning something new. driving on the road with no one else in sight.

in what ways have you become more loving? having more room for self compassion, its allowed me to create more space for compassion for others. i believe compassion is the opposite of ego, so releasing the ego brain and getting into my body is a daily practice and consciousness.

is there a song i should listen to today? show me love by hundred waters

when sadness makes its presence known, how do you greet it? with soft eyes and an open heart. i like to visualize myself as an open vessel where any emotion or amount of information can greet me, but i am allowed to let it flow through and past me. i can send anything away on a little stream to float away (so i choose).

what do you see from your favorite window? the sun peering in with the breeze coming up from the ocean making the garden dance and twirl towards the golden light.

what did you learn from your grandmother? there is no room for resentment in this life. let everything pass through you if it does not uplift you. free yourself. i saw her do the opposite.

what’s an object you possess that is precious to you? my paintings and my blender.

how do you show your love? lots of kisses hugs and eye contact. lots of food, lots of “i got you this because it made me think of you”. lots of questions. as much humility and “i’m sorry”s as i can give.

what was the last wish you made? to wake up with an overwhelming sense of peace.

how do you know when you are in love? very hard to know what to say about this. have you ever felt drunk off someone’s energy? i’m sure that’s the hormones and oxytocin talking, but you look at them and you realize that you can’t imagine your life without them. it’s exhilarating, it’s magical, it's devastating, it’s brilliant. you feel honored and completely united, but horrified to think about if that feeling were to end. nothing else seems to matter when you are in the room with them. embracing them is like crashing into a wave and floating in a sea of honey. laughing with them is like wrapping yourself in a silk 1500 thread count sheet and sliding down a cloud of your favorite scent down rainbow road. staring at them sends shivers down your spine. kissing them feels like a dream you never want to wake up from. it’s very simple and pure. it’s extremely nuanced and complicated.

what do you find very overrated, in general? los angeles coffee shops that require me to wait in a line down the block

what are your favorite kind of gifts to give? and to receive? experiences always and forever

when was the last time you laughed so hard your stomach ached? the unsung hero of summer, your friend who has a pool. we were at my friend chloe’s house last night and we were in the pool for hours until 10 pm. we jumped back in after dinner. i felt like a child. i saw into my friends souls, as 8 year olds for the first time. anything serious didn’t exist for the night, only goofy energy and games you used to play. it was a lot of play, seeing who could hold their breath the longest, and underwater handstands. maybe a few rounds of chicken. just good clean silly fun.

biggest pet peeve. weak coffee and people who speak with little to no conviction.

what makes a perfect love song? a song that evokes a visceral reaction

what makes any day feel like a Saturday? driving with the windows down on a sunny day, feeling the sense of gravity push your hand back

what ice cream flavor makes you feel like a kid again? when i was a kid we lived super close to the best ice cream shop ever, ziggys. we would bike there often and i would get bubble gum ice cream or cotton candy ice cream. which now sounds so rogue.

if you could go back in time, what time would you revisit in your life? living in the middle east

where do you go from here? only up… i think i’m on an upward spiral towards magnificence…

finish this sentence: to be loved is __________. magical and euphoric. a gift to hold onto. never taken for granted.

after you answer these questions, what will you do today? go on a walk around the silverlake reservoir :)

father’s day was a couple days ago. i never know when father’s day is. i’m only aware of it when someone casually brings it up in conversation and only then will my ears perk up and i can’t help but ask, oh when is that? i don’t remember because i can’t remember the last time i cared but i still ask, every time, i still ask.

i don’t have any photos of my dad in my phone. i only have the photos of the polaroids i took using my phone while sorting through the boxes of photos my mom keeps on the floor of the spare bedroom.

sometimes when i am tired or when i am bored and i am alone, i look through my favorites album on my phone to find the old photos of them. in one, my dad’s arm is slung around my mom’s shoulders, she’s turned towards him and she’s tucked under the crook of his arm and she holds him back; her nailpolish is red. if i zoom in, i can see her beauty mark right above her upper lip, i can see the shadow of her pink blush high on her cheekbones, her eyeshadow looks blueish gray and heavily lines her lids. she looks so young and cool. my dad’s face is glowing pink and red from drinking, his eyes look squinty and sharp like he’s having a hard time focusing, his hair is black and full and wavy. he’s wearing a skinny black tie and a grey tweed jacket and he looks edgy and young and confident in a way that can only be created out of absolute necessity.

but my favorite polaroid of them is on the day they eloped. my dad is looking straight into the camera. he looks proud. he is wearing black sunglasses and a grey suit and in one hand he holds a bunch of white and baby pink balloons while his other hand is wrapped around my mom’s shoulders. my mom is holding a bouquet of flowers, her hair is longer, she is wearing white and i don’t know if she looks happy or scared or sad or regretful. i always try reading her face but even after 35 years of knowing her, i can’t tell. i convince myself she was happy. the car they’re leaning on has just married scrawled with white paint on the rear window. i wonder who wrote that. was it them? was it a friend of theirs? the bottom of the polaroid says july 26, 1986. i don’t know whose handwriting it is. it doesn’t look like my mom’s but i can’t remember what my dad’s handwriting looks like.

sometimes i wonder what would have happened if my mom married someone else. what life would she be living? would she be happier? sometimes we talk about it together and my mom tells me about her ex-boyfriend that she dated before she started dating my dad. she tells me how they went camping and how he would fly down to san diego to see her while she was in college. when i listen to her talk about him, i hear the nostalgia in her voice and when she tells me about how he came from a good family and how his family was wealthy, i worry she tells me these details because she’s reminding me and herself that once upon a time, she could have married someone different. i ask her if she ever wishes she could go back in time and she says no because then i wouldn’t exist. ethan wouldn’t exist. so she says no. i understand but i still wonder for the both of us.

when i was younger, i used to write about my dad more often. i used to romanticize the hurt and anger he made me feel and i wore that anger as some sort of badge. when i was still a teenager verging on adulthood, i wrote about ex-boyfriends and my fraught relationship with my dad and an older more accomplished writer responded to one of my posts and told me that one day, i would be a great writer but i just had to go through more hell. i relished their observation because it made me feel important and weathered in a way that i was strangely so desperate for. i wanted to be understood as a girl who had suffered.

as i got older, the idea of my dad and his short place in my life became more abstract yet more clear to me and i began to use my fading anger toward him as an excuse for my insecurity, my jealousy, my fear of being not enough. when i picked a fight with jeremy because my jealousy turned to rage and my insecurity made me feel terrified like a caged animal, i blamed my dad. you don’t know what i’ve been through! i would yell. sometimes, i would repeat the story of how when i was sixteen, my dad told me that every man will cheat on me because that’s just what men do. it took me years to realize that i did not believe him then and i do not believe him now but when i pushed myself into a corner, terrified of losing love or what i thought was love, i would pull that memory out like a weapon. it was my last defense. i would retell the story with anger in my voice, my sadness was genuine and my fear was real but back then, i didn’t understand that i didn’t need to hold onto these things in hopes of being understood and seen.

when i was nineteen or twenty, when i first decided to leave my mom’s home, i told my dad first. i told him over two overly sweet lukewarm coffees and one burnt tongue at an empty starbucks. we smoked a cigarette together in the parking lot and i told him because i knew he would support me for the wrong reasons but that was enough. with one raised eyebrow and the flick of his cigarette against the pavement, he hugged me good-bye and told me, just go. i came to him because i wanted the comfort of knowing i had one parent, no matter how distant, give me permission and i know i made him feel powerful like i trusted him as a dad. when i remember that transaction from so many years ago, i feel myself getting sad.

i don’t like my dad. i am not even sure i can say i love him. we don’t speak, not even for birthdays or holidays. i’ve never searched for my dad on facebook but i came across his profile randomly a few weeks ago and saw a photo of him for the first time in years. he looks the same, nothing had really changed and i felt some relief. i am no longer angry with him. i don’t resent him. i don’t hold him responsible for the way i approach relationships and i don’t blame him for my feelings of insecurity and my fears of not being enough. i don’t absolve my dad of the things he chose to do but i also learned that i don’t need to hold onto it. i don’t want to hold onto it. and maybe that’s why i like looking at the old polaroids of my parents when they were young and beautiful and only cared about being together. i look at their elopement polaroid and i find comfort in knowing my dad loved my mom then. i know she trusted him with her secrets and i know that he wanted to give her a good life and i know that he hoped for a good life together. i feel like he maybe knew their life wouldn’t be perfect and maybe often times, it would be really hard but i don’t think he wanted to end up without us.

i didn’t know who my dad was when he was my dad, but now that he’s a stranger to me or maybe it’s because i’m older but i feel like i understand him more. and when i look at him in that old polaroid, i view him tenderly like he’s a kid and not a grown man. i look at him in his pressed wedding suit with his arm wrapped around my mom and i have an adult understanding that sometimes there are those who go through hell and find comfort in that hell and no matter how hard they try, they don’t know how to find their way out of it.

i found my tracey emin book, angel without you, in a random box in my mom’s garage. i convinced myself i lost it years and years ago and i was sure that i wouldn’t come across it again. the feeling of relief and surprise that came flooding over me from just rediscovering her book again made me realize how formative this photo book was for me when i was in my twenties. it’s rare to come across an artist like tracey emin who portrays love in an honest and wretched way. her bold proclamations of love reflect the hopefulness and purity of such a feeling yet recognizes the desperation and vulnerability that comes with it. i love this photo book and i thought i’d share some of my favorites for your friday.

i also rediscovered this tumblr, from another room, which plays songs with that slightly depressing muffled echoing sound. i find it comforting and sad in a way that is sometimes needed. i’ve been listening to this one on low volume while getting ready for bed.

take rest, angels.

an important question will be an on-going series of asking the questions that get to the heart of it all. this series is inspired by durga chew bose’s interview, time will tell, with dev hynes where her honest and candid questions touch on the small moments of being human that we all share. i was incredibly touched by people’s responses to these very personal questions and i hope you find something in these questions and answers that make you feel less alone, inspired and comforted that gently, we exist.

emilie jehng is the founder and designer of soft good studio where she makes bespoke jewelry and also designs pieces that reflect the asian american experience and culture. her work is incredibly beautiful, poignant and deeply personal and i have both admired and been inspired by her for a long time. this piece in particular is just one example of how emilie is able to create something that is not just ‘jewelry’ but a truly meaningful and profound piece of art.

you can find emilie and her work here and here.

when was the last time you fell asleep easily? just last night! i'm grateful that my tiredness usually directly correlates to my ability to fall asleep

what makes your home feel like your home? home to me is a feeling that lives in many things. there are people and places that it lives in constantly, like my family and loved ones, or my studio and the ability to create. i've also been discovering that it can also live in unexpected moments or strangers. i got my nails done a few months ago and the lady doing my nails operated with a pushy, curious, loving, familial energy that reminded me of my extended family in taiwan and I loved it

what word do you find powerful or meaningful? yuanfen or 緣分. it can be translated as a 'fateful coincidence' and comparable to the concept of karma in buddhism. it's something my mom taught me when I was young, and its something i refer back to often to help me let go when things didn't go my way or when they don't go according to plan. i derive a lot of peace from the idea that what will be will be

when was the last time you felt bliss? i think there was a day last week that was just like any other work day, but i remember having a lot of clarity and feeling happy about it. i did my routine things like take nora on a walk, eat breakfast, work in studio, etc, but i felt engaged in what i was doing and not distracted with silly thoughts or my phone. it's definitely something that's become more difficult as more has been added to my plate, but i'm thankful for when i'm able to slow down enough to feel that

if you could say anything to anyone right now, what would it be? take care of yourself

what is something you wish younger you understood?

1. the time we have with our loved ones is never guaranteed; cherish it

2. stay in Chinese school. when you're older you will wish you could communicate more deeply with your grandparents

3. the things that make you feel isolated and lame will be the same things the most important people in your life will celebrate

what song plays inside your head when you’re feeling down? nothin compares 2 u - sinéad o'Connor, because if you're feeling down it might just be best to bask in it

the last stranger that made you smile: a person walking on the other side of the street with their dog who very much looked like their dog. one of my favorite things

when sadness makes its presence known, how do you greet it? i love listening to sad music and working in studio when i feel sad. this started happening in college out of necessity, so i'm not sure if this is something i just conditioned myself into liking, but now i find it rather cathartic

if you could go back in time, would you? if i could go back in time and be an invisible bystander, i'd love to go back in time to when my mom was my age (30). i’d love to learn more about her at that age, her way of talking, the way she dressed, her small mannerisms

what do you see from your favorite window? the window/sliding doors to the backyard in my childhood home in san jose. it pointed out onto an old deck and a picnic table that sat underneath a tree that shed tiny white blossoms during the spring. i find view very comforting because it's been there through various stages of my life

savor kindness because cruelty is always possible later, yes or no? yes

the pursuit of true love is never exhausting, yes or no? no

pain is a signal, yes or no? yes

if you could have one smell on your hands forever, what would it be and why? the smell of nora, my dog, after she's been laying in the sun

what is art? a representation of time and care

heartbreak or loss smells like: stomach acid

childhood smells like: sunwarmed tanbark

what did you hate most as a child? goodbyes

if you had a child, what would you want them to know? i'd want them to know the strong line of women they come from, and the unconditional love their grandparents, my parents, showed me

what did you learn from your grandmother? tenacity

what article of clothing feels most like you? i have a blue chore coat/work jacket that i found at a thrift store during my first trip to tokyo. its about mid-thigh length, a medium weight, and 100% cotton. it's nothing special, but the weight and the two big front pockets have made it a go-to for me throughout the almost ten years i've owned it. it's served many roles throughout the years!

what’s an act of humanity you witnessed that made you feel something? two strangers running after a dog that had gotten loose

what age do you never want to be again? 14 or 15, i remember feeling so self-conscious at that age

what color describes you? indigo blue

what color describes your first love? maybe a translucent magenta

what do you miss? i've been getting nostalgic over childhood! i miss the carefree, often boring, parts of being a kid

what is the most important thing life has taught you? trust your gut

what life do you hope parallel-life you is living? i hope parallel-life me has mastered multiple languages and is sipping sherry in spain

what is a miracle? i think coincidences are small miracles

what’s an object you possess that is precious to you? jewelry my mom and my aunt gave me

what do you feel is the most loving thing you’ve done for someone else? taken care of a family member when they were ill

what was the last wish you made? ah! i can't recall the last time i made a wish actually

how do you know when you are in love? i think the answer is different depending on what stage of love you're in, but i think maybe the first indicator is when you're content doing very little with them, or when you're even happy doing a menial task with them

what do you find very overrated, in general? self-centeredness

what dish would you make for someone you care for? soup or stew of some sort

how do you celebrate your birthday? i'm definitely a small celebration kind of girl. my ideal is probably dinner with my partner, or a small dinner party with close friends. i don't love being the center of attention, but i love the excuse to get everyone together

biggest pet peeve: mosquito bites

what makes a perfect love song? you and me - penny & the quarters

if you could go back in time, what time would you revisit in your life? i think revisiting life around age 8 might be fun

finish this sentence: to be loved is __________: to be understood

when was the last time you laughed so hard your stomach ached? oof i'm not sure exactly, but i do remember cracking up the other night when i made lasagna with my friends molly and gen

what are your favorite kind of gifts to give? and to receive? i love to give and receive gifts made by hand! to me time is the most precious thing and i think seeing it immortalized in an object feels rather meaningful

what does your jewelry say about you? the jewelry i wear says that i’m sentimental and like to keep reminders of my family close

where do you go from here? on a walk to get a coffee. i am on a mission to get a wet cappuccino this morning.

i’ve been thinking about what it means to be remembered and what it feels like to remember someone. i remember anyone i’ve shared time with, even if it was insignificant then. i can recall their voice, what their sighs of exasperation sounded like, their stutter when confronted with a question they didn’t want to answer or couldn’t answer, the sharp inflection in their tone when they said something that hurt me, remembering it even more so when it was unintentional, their laughs that were small and loud. i hold onto them not because they were all profound and meaningful but because they made a difference in how i think of connection, love and life and ultimately, the frailty of it all. i always think of when louise bourgeois said, i need my memories. they are my documents. i keep watch over them…if they come to you, they are the seeds for sculpture.

take rest, angels.

xx

when i sent out the newsletter on where to eat in the bay area per all your plentiful recommendations, ethan texted me and told me i should make a list of places i personally love frequenting. i was kind of reluctant to do this because i go to the same five places (i feel like) or i’ve already mentioned places i love in the bay area in passing. for someone who loves to eat and enjoys eating out maybe a little too much, i don’t really go out of my way to try the newest restaurants (and if i do, it takes me so long that it’s no longer new and the ‘coolness’ of it becomes a thing of the distant past) so i often feel out of the loop. maybe i carry some sort of unnecessary shame that i don’t often eat at the trendiest places? or even more so that i’m often way, way behind about what’s even cool or new. but who cares, i guess! good food is good food and truthfully, i’m here to enjoy it all and i’m here to take my time.

places i enjoy having a drink:

rose’s taproom: this is a tiny little wine/beer place in temescal that i really enjoy going to. everyone that works there is so warm and friendly (hi sierra!), the vibes are always nice, it feels easy to be there alone, their snack plate absolutely cannot be beat for the price ($10!) and they have wine selection that doesn’t feel intimidating for those who just know they like a red (me) or something sparkling. i’ve come here alone a few times to fake read or fake work on my laptop with their snack plate and a glass of wine or two for company and it’s always really nice. they also have a little outdoor patio and a parklet which is perfect for a summery day or evening.

north light: i don’t really drink cocktails often but i do really, really love the furtive glance cocktail here. it’s a dimly lit bar and bookstore in one but i have never seen anyone actually look at the books or purchase…but love and appreciate the concept. also, their tater tots are good.

donkey and goat: i like their wine (their pet nat, rose and grenache) and they have a really cute outdoor patio.

CoRo coffee room: i love their seasonal menu drinks, it’s a good quiet space to work (a place i have sat and rewrote the same sentence for 2 hours), the staff is kind (hi lily!). i feel like i’ve talked about this a million times but their summer espresso root bear float is insanely good. equally so, their standard menu coffee drinks are just as good.

hal’s coffee/ hal’s after hours: my neighborhood coffee spot which also moonlights as a wine bar later in the week. the baristas are so nice (hi betul!) and so many cute dogs during the day. i really love and appreciate a neighborhood spot where you can walk in the morning, desperate for a latte, looking absolutely busted and it’s just totally fine. also thursday to sunday, starting from 5:30 pm, it’s a casual organic wine bar which is also a place i enjoy getting a glass of wine. jeremy really likes their regular pop up: pound4pound burgers.

highwire at flowerland: the most beautiful place to enjoy coffee on a weekend morning. i recently ordered their mint matcha drink and it was perfect for my hangover (one more coffee and i thought i was gonna throw up). but the real appeal of this coffee stand is that it’s nestled in a corner of flowerland which is so beautiful especially in spring and summer. i’m entering a gardening era and i’ve really enjoyed getting a coffee and then perusing the seedlings and plants. it’s just such a beautiful nursery that i start getting delusional and begin to wonder if spending $2,000 on a 6 foot tall cactus plant can be justified.

places i want to try:

celia from of all places market posted about banter wine bar and ethan mentioned banter awhile back. i just saw that they have shrimp cocktail (!!!!!!!!!) so consider my ass there very soon.

places i enjoy eating:

belotti: i’ve probably cried more at belotti than any other restaurant in the bay area. don’t ask me why i’ve had the most earth-shattering heavy conversations while sitting at the bar here but i have and will probably continue to do so. i have cried into my bowl of agnolotti and tagliolini but it still didn’t make it taste any less amazing. i also appreciate that the bartender will just hand you a napkin, give you a small smile and move on to let you cry in peace. i’ve talked about belotti five thousand times and it’s for good reason- the pasta is really, really good here. ethan first introduced me to belotti years ago, when he first moved to the east bay and i’ve been dedicated to going at least 3x a month since moving to berkeley. i love the agnolotti and the tagliolini with browned butter and anchovy (pictured above), those are my two go-to’s. i am a creature of habit and i do not stray from those two favorites but i recently tried their tagliatelle with wild boar sugo and it’s quite good. it’s very rich and savory and although it can’t compete my favorite two pastas, i’ll probably order it from time to time. also an underrated item on the menu that you absolutely need to order is the broccoli with béchamel and calabrian chili. a weak point of their menu are their salads (and tiramisu, no offense, i hate their tiramisu), so this is a good vegetable replacement. it’s a good date place, a good catch up with your best friend place, a good place to eat alone. it’s a quaint restaurant that’s almost always busy so it’s almost impossible to do a walk in on thursday, friday, and saturday (even for the bar) so i really recommend making a reservation when and if you can.

penny roma: although cotogna and penny roma are two different italian type of restaurants, i’d skip cotogna and go to penny roma instead. maybe that’s crazy for me to say and i’m sure someone will be like: wtf, you can’t compare the two!! but wow, okay, i am. i like the vibe of penny roma so much. the staff is accommodating and kind, the service is good, i love that the menu is smaller and more straightforward, the food is always prepared well, you can take your time with dinner and you never feel like you’re being rushed out which is really important to me. it’s fun. the restaurant is beautifully designed and although my eye always gravitates toward the atrium seating, i prefer sitting inside the restaurant with a view of the open kitchen. last time i was there, i loved the leek arancini, the cacio e pepe (it was so peppery, it was perfect) and the chicken al mattone. other dishes i have loved: their porkchop, the prosciutto san daniele (pictured above) and their side of butter beans. they recently just posted this dish: tortelli di asparagi and i really, really want to try it.

bar sardine: before we even moved to the east bay, i really fell in love with bartavelle and we would often make the 1.5 hour drive just to eat lunch here. i just really fucking love this type of cuisine? this kind of food? these types of dishes? it’s so california to me in a way that will always be familiar and i will always appreciate and crave and miss it when i haven’t had it in awhile. when bar sardine opened, which i kinda think of as bartavelle’s older sister, i was so happy that there’s now a neighborhood place that actually has good food and a good ambience. hard to find, i think. i love bar sardine/ bartavelle because it’s just really simple food that tastes good. it’s not crazy or experimental, it’s just literally everything i love put together in a way that i can’t always replicate at home. for lunch at bartavelle, their early girl tomato tartine is insanely good and so is their salame toscana sandwich. at bar sardine, i have enjoyed most things i’ve tried on their menu. i truly believe you can’t really go wrong with whatever you order. and the staff behind the counter are always really friendly and are always willing to suggest a wine to try if you are having a hard time deciding. they also play nice music which is a plus.

tartine manufactory: one of my favorite memories of tartine manufactory is from years ago when i just quit my job in social services and it was my first day of unemployment. jeremy played hooky from work to celebrate and we drove to the city and had a really long lunch at tartine. it was my first time there and i just felt very in love that day so everything tasted beautiful. even the way the sunlight poured into the dining room felt special. i was such a lightweight at the time so just one aperol spritz had me laughing at everything and nothing that was actually funny. i really like tartine’s food but even besides that, i think i will always love tartine manufactory because of that one sunny afternoon. i like tartine because you can go on a tuesday afternoon for lunch and you wonder if everyone in san francisco is also a freelancer or just doesn’t work. it’s always so busy. the food is also very california cuisine meaning it’s seasonal, it’s simple, it’s colorful, it’s easy to enjoy. it’s extremely little gem lettuce/grapefruit in your salad (you know what i mean) oriented but in a good way. sometimes i just like a restaurant based on the feelings i get while i’m there and i’m always happy at tartine manufactory.

zuni cafe: i still think about lunch at zuni cafe. it’s hard to explain why i enjoyed it so much but i think it’s because it made me forget a lot about my problems for a few hours. there are some restaurants that seem to do that; they usher you in and make you feel like you are a different person, living a different life for just a little bit. maybe it has something to do with the formality of how the host greets you, the starch white tablecloths, the polite bartenders, the exaggerated performances of the fellow guests and servers alike, the constant melodic clinking of wine glasses and champagne flutes as the sun still beams outside, the way it’s 1 pm but it doesn’t matter because the whole afternoon is yours to quite literally eat, drink and be merry. there’s something magical and suffocating and beautiful about that type of that type of lunch, that type of meal. ordering a whole chicken that takes an hour to prepare along with a towering plate of shoestring french fries with a caesar salad with anchovies before that and a shallow bowl of manila clam soup with a few glasses of wine and a slice of gateaux victoria as the cherry on top in the middle of the afternoon made me feel insane and euphoric.

baker and commons: best biscuit in berkeley, in my opinion. sometimes, i will literally doordash a biscuit from them to my apartment which ends up being quadruple the price of what i would pay if i just drove the 4 miles to baker and commons. i’m not crazy about anything else on the menu but i do love their biscuit with butter and whatever seasonal jam they have. it’s so simple but so, so good. they also serve lattes in the traditional way which is in that big cereal size bowl which is kind of embarrassing to drink out of for a lot of reasons. it’s a place i enjoy coming with a book to read (not fake read) and enjoy a nice little breakfast treat.

devils teeth baking company: i really, really don’t like breakfast sandwiches and i definitely do not like breakfast burritos but i do love devils teeth’s biscuit breakfast sandwich. it’s an insane sandwich and insanely good. i get the special breakfast sandwich which is kind of crazy considering i really don’t like breakfast sandwiches at all and this is the most breakfast sandwich you can get. it’s a buttermilk biscuit, scrambled eggs, strips of bacon, pepperjack cheese, avocado and lemon garlic aioli. i eat the whole thing in maybe 5 minutes and i try to talk myself out of ordering a second one. i think this is something that you should absolutely get if you’re staying in the city, especially if you do not like breakfast sandwiches like me because you’ll enjoy it more. one of my favorite things to do is go on an early morning nature walk at land’s end then get a breakfast sandwich at devils teeth.

chez panisse cafe: a classic, an institution, it’s a quintessential berkeley establishment! chez panisse isn’t a regular restaurant in my rotation but i do think it is important to include because it is an iconic berkeley restaurant and i’ve enjoyed every time i’ve dined here. i’ve talked a lot about california cuisine and how much i love it but it’s also something i really associate specifically with berkeley. there are so many restaurants, especially here, that do it well and i’ve mentioned a few of them on this list but chez panisse is probably the og to do it. i love the attention to detail that have become iconic in their own right like the lobby flower arrangements done by max gill to their engraved water glasses and the bountiful seasonal produce that grace the counters of their kitchen. i think chez panisse is really special to experience and is a restaurant you should go to at least once if you can.

rose pizzeria: when it hits 75 degrees in berkeley and it’s sunny out, the first place i think of going to is rose pizzeria for their spritz, spicy caesar salad and a pizza on the back patio. it’s my favorite sit down pizza place in all of berkeley and oakland. my go to pizza’s are: the classic pep, the reed and beach club. you have to order their spicy caesar salad and if you’re really hungry, an order of their beans too. rose is perfect to go alone or on a date or with a friends and if you happen to be lucky enough to sit in chris’s section, you’re blessed because he is the sweetest.

bombera: i literally just went to bombera on saturday and it’s already one of my favorite restaurants in the east bay. i was told by my friend ben that bombera has the best carrot dish and i didn’t really believe him until i finally got to try it myself. it is really, really good (it has beans!) especially when paired with their mango cherry gem salad. i kept saying that i would come back for those two things alone. i loved their carne asada, i loved how kind and attentive the staff were, and i really loved the vibe of the restaurant. now, i understand why people talk about bombera and say it’s special. i think this would be a fun place to go with a bigger group of people so you can try more things on the menu. because the portions are quite generous, it’s hard to really order a lot of food when there’s just two of you.

great china: my favorite chinese restaurant in the bay area since my family’s beloved chinese restaurant went out of business years and years ago. mister jiu’s is fine but even with all it’s accolades, i would choose great china over that any day of the week. because the portions are so big and there’s so many good dishes to order (peking duck, general tso’s, double skin, honey walnut shrimp, combination fried rice, the list goes on…), it’s good to go with at least 4 people.

pho aosen: my favorite place to get che 3 mau and thach che. i’ve tried che from a few places around berkeley and oakland and pho aosen has the best one.

tomi sushi: my family loves tomi sushi and any time we visit my mom in santa clara, it’s most likely we’re going to be eating tomi sushi. i personally do not eat a lot of sashimi or raw fish, but i do really love their spicy tuna rolls and their california rolls (lol). this fact about me brings my family a lot of shame but the truth is, i always order beef or chicken teriyaki or udon at any japanese restaurant (that isn’t an izakaya) and i can attest that tomi has really good beef and chicken teriyaki, udon and spicy tuna rolls.

kunjip: the only place i will eat galbi tang. whenever ethan and i go back to the south bay to visit my mom, they want to eat tomi but i want kunjip so i can eat galbi tang. i used to really dislike this soup as a kid but now, i think it’s one of my favorite korean dishes. they’re also known for their different kinds of naengmyun (i don’t like naengmyun at all), seol leong tang, gomtang and galbijim but i always order the galbitang.

not really the bay area but places i really like up north:

palace market for their buffalo milk soft serve and figs during fig season.

hog island for their grilled oysters.

cafe aquatica in jenner.

places on my to-try-list:

the morris

beit rima

bar jabroni

golden boy pizza

san ho wan

heirloom cafe

so these are my favorite places in the bay area. i hope you find this a little helpful if you’re ever in need of a place to eat, drink, laugh or cry. and if you do try any of these, i’d love to hear your thoughts.

xx

hold hands with someone you love today, tomorrow, always.

take rest, angels.

a couple nights ago, i put out a q+a box on instagram asking people what is a novel they’ve read in the last six months that they loved. so many of you shared what you’ve been reading lately and i’m so grateful. i want to be more consistent with reading this summer so i’m excited to browse your recommendations and find a few that excite me.

a master list for your next summer read:

• vita nostra- the dyachenkovs

• exciting times- naoise dolan

• small things like these- claire keegan

• severance- ling ma

• cleopatra and frankenstein- coco mellors

• if beale street could talk - james baldwin

• drive your plow over the bones of the dead- olga tokaczuk

• a tale for time being- ruth ozeki

• our wives under the sea- julia armfield

• the shadow of the wind-carlos ruiz zafon

• the shards- bret easton ellis

• i who have never known men- jacqueline harpman (i finished this book in 1 hour, it was so good)

• bliss montage- ling ma

• legends and lattes- travis baldree

• all the lovers in the night- mieko kawakami

• sunset- jessie cave

• my brilliant friend series- elena ferrante

• writers and lovers- lily king

• masters of death- olivie blake

• covenant of water- abraham verghese

• shuggie bain-douglas stuart

• soldier, sailor- claire kilroy (adding to my cart)

• big swiss- jen beagin

• when we were birds- ayanna lloyd banwo

• the red tent- anita diamant

• talking animals- joni murphy

• ripe- sarah rose etter

• my year of rest and relaxation- ottessa moshfegh

• slow days, fast company- eve babitz

• demon copperhead- barbara kingsolver

• psalm for the wild built- becky chambers

• death valley- melissa broder

• martyr- kaveh akbar (on my reading list)

• a little life- hanya yanagihara

• how to end a love story- yulin kuang

• 100 years of solitude- gabriel garcia marquez

• the book of goose- yiyun lee

• fresh water for flowers- valerie perrin

• chouette- claire oshetsky

• cutting for stone- abraham verghese

• if on a winter’s night a traveler- italo calvino

• the details- ia genberg

• disorientation- elaine hsieh chou

• after earth- peter david

• real americans- rachel khong

• good material- dolly alderton

• the thursday murder club- richard osman

• against the loveless world- susan abulhawa

• diavola- jennifer thorne

• butter - asako yuzuki

• these precious days- ann patchett

• luster- raven leilani

• none of this is true- lisa jewell

• the guest- emma cline

• a little luck- claudia piñeiro

• thee body problem- liu cixin

• geek love- katherine dunn

• the favorite game- leonard cohen

• ruth and pen- emilie pine

• brown girls- daphne palasi andreades

• we have always lived in the castle- shirley jackson

• giovanni’s room- james baldwin

• milkfed- melissa broder

• piglet- lottie hazell (i personally did not like this novel at all)

• fight night- miriam toews

• tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow- gabrielle zevin

• a little renaissance- veronica glover

• this ain’t no promised land- tina shelton

• the unbearable lightness of being- milan kunderas

• weirdo- sarah pascoe

• things i don’t want to know- deborah levy

• second place- rachel cusk

• parable of the sower- octavia butler

• empty houses- brenda navarro

• the friend- sigrid nunez

• lapvona- otessa moshfegh

• the things- georges perec

• klara and the sun- kazuo ishiguro

• freedom is a constant struggle- angela davis

• east of eden- john steinbeck

• strange the dreamer- laini taylor

• gilead- marilynne robinson

• normal people- sally rooney

• alphabetical diaries- sheila heti

• betty- tiffany mcdaniel

• a wild herb soup- emilie carles

• kitchen- banana yoshimoto

• my husband- maud ventura

• if cats disappeared from the world- genki kawamura

• babel- rf kuang

• enter ghost- isabella hammad

• kala- colin walsh

• bunny- mona awad

• the saint of bright doors- vajra chandrasekera

• alphabet for gourmets- MFK fisher

• all this could be different- sarah thankam matthews

• family lexicon- natalie ginzburg

• the door- magda szabo

• talking at night- claire daverley

• post office girl- stefan zweig

• little weirds- jenny slate

• the many daughters of afong moy- jamie ford

• all fours- miranda july

• butter honey pig bread - francesca ekwuyasi (love)

• animal- lisa taddeo

• three women- lisa taddeo

• i’m a fan- sheena patel

• swimming in the dark- tomasz jedrowski

• chain gang all stars- nana kwame adjei-brenyah

• bellies- nicola dinan

my personal summer reading list:

• paradise rot- jenny hval

• open me- lisa locascio

• the answers- catherine lacey

• ordinary human failings- megan nolan

• thirst- marina yuszczuk

• exhibit- ro kwon

• communion- bell hooks

thank you for being here with me.

xo

i told my mom that i think i’m going through perimenopause. i told her while we were lying on her bed, side by side, facing each other and talking in a hushed voice which we always do whenever ethan is in the other room. i’ve been sure about it for awhile, maybe even before i turned 35 but i’ve been more sure about it in the last couple months. i scoot down on the bed and turn on my back as i tell her that my body feels different, my hair is brittle and dry, my cycle has been changing, i’ve been sweating at night, i have spontaneous hot flashes where i frantically fan myself even when it’s 58 degrees outside, i feel my sex drive waning. my mom runs her fingers through my hair as i ask her when she went through menopause and she stops and thinks about it for a minute. she makes a sound that’s in between a sigh and a gasp when she remembers she also started going through perimenopause around 35 and went into full menopause at 41 or 42.

i tell her: it’s genetic, you know. i expect her to tell me i’m being crazy, i’m not like her, i’m reading into these things too much, i’m just not exercising enough or i’m not sleeping enough or no, i’m just wrong. but instead, she asks me what i want to do about it. i shrug and say, nothing, i don’t think. what can i do? i tell her that there is a hormone specialist in florida jeremy’s mom recommended to me years ago when i first got diagnosed with pmdd but he costs $6,000 just for the hormone testing. even if i could afford that, what is the point? there’s no point in trying to control something that has already been written out for me. but as we’re both lying there, mom and daughter but feeling more like peers or friends in this moment, i feel a little sad when i ask her if i’ll start to look old quicker. will i look aged? will i start to look different? will i start to look dry and withered sooner than i should? are you sure? how do you know? she tells me what i expect her to say: you’ll always be beautiful, you’ll be okay. i don’t really believe her but when i look at her and the photos around her bedroom that show her soft freckled skin, the youthful lines that crinkle around her eyes and her girlish smile at various points in her life, i find it a little easier to trust what she’s saying. she tells me what i’ve been thinking all along: there is no point in stressing about what’s already meant to be. besides, she says matter of factly, i would only really feel sad for you if you wanted kids but you don’t.

when i was 25, two years after i got pregnant and had my abortion, a woman held my wrist in her hand and steadied a crystal pendulum over it. this will tell you how many children you’ll have, she says. the pendulum doesn’t move dangling over the soft part of my wrist when suddenly, it begins to move in an exaggerated circle. i hold my breath.

her other hand holds my wrist and her skin feels cool and dry. her fingers are knotted and wiry but strong. she steadies the pendulum again and this time, the pendulum slowly begins to sway from side to side. it keeps going until suddenly it slows down and then abruptly stops. two children, she says. a boy and a girl. i stand there, stunned, as if a secret of the universe has opened up to me. i don’t doubt what she’s saying, i believe every word she says but maybe it’s because it was what i needed to hear then. i needed to hear that i could still have another chance. i would be older, i would be smarter then, it would be with someone who is kind to me, who i’m kind to, it will happen with someone who is good. i was still confused and heartsick over the abortion i had two years earlier; knowing that it was the right decision but having a hard time understanding it all. i wanted to ask her if my abortion counts, if the abortion counted for one of the children i am meant to have in this lifetime but i don’t.

a year later, i’m devastated over a breakup with a man who will never be with me in the way i need him to be with me. i think i am in love with him and i convince myself he is in love with me too by the way he remembered to pack the disposable cameras i gave him before he went on a month long trip to vietnam. i remember telling him, i want to see what you see, i want to see what you wish i could see with you. i didn’t think he would remember to take photos or even if he did remember, i didn’t think he would make the effort to. why would he? i wasn’t even his girlfriend. i was a girl he spent time with on weekends, texted all day with and slept with but i wasn’t his girlfriend. when he came back, he got the cameras developed for me and emailed me a file with the photos. they were the most beautiful photos i had ever seen because i saw what he saw. i told myself that he had to love me. i told myself these grainy, shitty photos proved it.

but he didn’t love me. he was widowed, shut off and only open to a dalliance that teetered the line of any emotional intimacy. he introduced me to his intimidating sister at her palatial home but he wouldn’t hold my hand in public. we walked his dog in the mornings around the city and we made dinner together in the evenings but he wouldn’t define our relationship. we did this for two years until one night, i called him and gave him an ultimatum. he chewed cashews deliberately and calmly as i cried into the phone when he said he couldn’t give me an answer. i could hear the cashews snap and crack under his teeth as i screamed at him to fuck off before hanging up on him. i am heartsick again but for a different reason. i am wild with intense irrational heartache and i feel like i am on fire from being rejected and feeling so unwanted. i find a ‘psychic’ on etsy with 4.5 stars and i reach out to her for a pendulum reading. i am sad and desperate and it’s shameful. she tells me for $30 i can ask 10 yes or no questions. at the time, $30 seems like a reasonable amount of money for the universe to speak to me and soothe the desperation i feel. i ask if he still thinks about me. i ask if we were right for each other. i ask if we’ll end up together. i ask if i’ll have children. she emails me back a week later and tells me yes he still thinks about me, no we were not right for each other, no we will not end up together, yes i will have children. i email her two more times, $60 more dollars, still heartsick and i ask the same questions, just worded differently. but in one email, i ask: will i have two children? she responds that the pendulum says yes.

i meet ethan and sade for dinner on a monday night. it’s a holiday and i expect the restaurant to be busy but it’s not as busy as it usually is. over plates of honey walnut shrimp, fried rice, spinach with garlic and general’s chicken, i tell them about a woman, a young mom, earlier in the day at a trendy coffee spot who asked me to move from the bench i was sitting on so she and her husband, their toddler and the stroller she was pushing with one hand could sit. i tell them that when she asked me if i could move so they could sit, i immediately jumped up and said of course. she doesn’t say thank you. as i waited for my coffee, i felt an inexplicable feeling of anger start bubbling in the center of my stomach. how dare she ask me to move just because she has children? i text jeremy as i wait for my strawberry latte to be called; i am typing furiously. i think women who have children can think women who don’t have children and are of child bearing age should be more amenable to them just because they have children, like they’re better than us, i text him, and most times i am but sometimes i don’t want to be. i am seething as i glance back and see this mom with her grubby toddler and her cooing baby in the black nuna stroller and her husband crammed into the two seater plastic bench. my coffee is called and i walk up to get it and as i walk out, i pass by this family again. i see the baby’s little feet covered in lime green socks sticking out from the top of the stroller, i see her toddler with wet curious eyes standing idly by, one chubby hand holding onto the stroller. his fuzzy jacket is stained with crumbs, his feathery hair is disheveled. mom and dad both look content, despite the chaos it probably took for them to all leave the house together, happy to be spending this morning as a family. i feel something lurch in my stomach, it’s not so much anger anymore but it’s a feeling of something. is it envy? is it sadness? is it understanding that these are things i will never experience? that i will never understand what it feels like to enjoy a cup of coffee on a sunny windy morning with two children i bore from my body, with someone who i love enough to do this with by my side?

years ago, a friend once told me that her three year old son took her face by both hands and looked into her eyes and asked: where did you come from? when she told me this, i was in awe that as a mom, you are gifted the purest of moments. i couldn’t fathom what it would be like to hold a beautiful little being in my heart like that. i couldn’t imagine what it would be like to hear my child ask me such a tender question. i think i would cry. i know i would cry. i have a honey citrine pendulum i bought in new mexico on a wooden stand in my apartment. occasionally, i think about seeing if the pendulum would still say i am going to have two children. but i choose not to. even if the pendulum still says yes, i know that it was revealing a secret of a different lifetime. not this one. i have come to understand that.

people ask me if i’m going to have kids. especially when they know i’m 35. when i say no, they chortle and say oh you still have time, you’re still so young. i tell them that i thought i was going to have kids my whole life, i tell them i love kids, i tell them how i was a nanny for years, i tell them i was good at it, i tell them i never really cared about getting married but i always wanted to be a mom, i tell them my favorite girl’s name is ophelia. but i don’t tell them that when i was younger, i was always worried that someone wouldn’t love me enough to want to have a child with me. i don’t tell them that when i was younger, i was worried the traits i never grew out of would make make it obvious to others that i would be a bad mom. i don’t tell them that now, through time, i’ve come trust myself enough to know that i would be a good mom but i know i shouldn’t be a mom.

i know my body is changing and is preparing to go through the biggest change since puberty. maybe it will be when i’m 40, maybe it will be when i’m 42. i know that as this happens, i’ll still be young but feel old. i know i’ll feel these subtle changes as the years pass and maybe with each year, i’ll go through bigger waves of thinking about motherhood more often. i know there will be more moments of feeling envy and sadness. i know that even if i’m okay not being a mother, i’ll still wish that the first and only time i was pregnant wasn’t so wretched and devastating. i know that i’ll always wonder about the pendulum readings and wonder it really meant.

i know that i’ll think about another life where maybe motherhood worked out for me and even though there might be days where i hate it, all of it, i know i wouldn’t give it up for anything.