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Mating

The first time I read this book, I felt like someone had taken all my naive college fantasies and fed them back to me as nightmares. I had questions about every aspect of human existence, except for one: yes, you can get horny reading opaque literature about sociology. The story of a nameless anthropologist doing graduate work in Botswana who ends up in a polyamorous matriarchal village before that was a thing, Mating's title says it all. In recent years, Mating has achieved something of a cult status (back in my day, this was one of those books you felt cool for knowing about and oddly protective of- so it’s the book equivalent of an indie band from your neighborhood whose music is suddenly in Hyundai Elantra ads.) If Norman's work interests you, check out this lovely article about his long term collaboration with his wife- the rare male genius who DOES give his better half her flowers. Yes King.

Iksplor Merino Baby Booties

The only bootie that is truly a match for the sinkhole where all the booties go. Their ability to stay on the foot means that they ultimately earn their price tag by preventing the purchase of dozens of lesser booties. And that’s math!

What the Living Do (Marie Howe)

When I don’t have the right words to share with someone who is experiencing the wilds of grief, I will often share this poem. I first read it when I was a 14 year old grappling with my first true loss, and - unlike so many works of art we love as tweens - it has never faded or started to look cheesy or saccharine. It’s a perfect thing, growing lovelier each year.

a husband with a love of order

This is the best thing in my home. As you can see from how active I am on this app, I looove things. I like to think it’s not pure materialism- because I love my butter stick squeeze toy and my mother’s earrings from college and the paper mache birthday cake Jemima got me and my diary from my teenage trip to Cuba where I first French kissed a boy just as much as I love any new designer goods- actually, so much more. But this diffuse passion, the anthropomorphic qualities I can imbue a Christmas card with, mean I’m collecting and collecting, and suddenly I find myself toppling under the weight of my own attachments (and, more literally, under a pile of threadbare bike shorts- they can weigh a lot en masse!) Lu was away for awhile and I turned feral and teenage. He’s back, and spent yesterday on the book shelf. He got “little folders for your little papers.” And today he brought my closet to heel. Suddenly, like a tween girl seeing The Limited Too for the first time, I was falling back in love with all my stuff- and with the little grin he does when he presents a newly tidied space 😭 Last you think this is one-sided: I know that his love language is me editing his emails and acting like I want to watch a bunch of old Stone Roses videos. So that’s what I’m gonna do. For as long as he’ll let me.

Mating

The first time I read this book, I felt like someone had taken all my naive college fantasies and fed them back to me as nightmares. I had questions about every aspect of human existence, except for one: yes, you can get horny reading opaque literature about sociology. The story of a nameless anthropologist doing graduate work in Botswana who ends up in a polyamorous matriarchal village before that was a thing, Mating's title says it all. In recent years, Mating has achieved something of a cult status (back in my day, this was one of those books you felt cool for knowing about and oddly protective of- so it’s the book equivalent of an indie band from your neighborhood whose music is suddenly in Hyundai Elantra ads.) If Norman's work interests you, check out this lovely article about his long term collaboration with his wife- the rare male genius who DOES give his better half her flowers. Yes King.

Iksplor Merino Baby Booties

The only bootie that is truly a match for the sinkhole where all the booties go. Their ability to stay on the foot means that they ultimately earn their price tag by preventing the purchase of dozens of lesser booties. And that’s math!

What the Living Do (Marie Howe)

When I don’t have the right words to share with someone who is experiencing the wilds of grief, I will often share this poem. I first read it when I was a 14 year old grappling with my first true loss, and - unlike so many works of art we love as tweens - it has never faded or started to look cheesy or saccharine. It’s a perfect thing, growing lovelier each year.

a husband with a love of order

This is the best thing in my home. As you can see from how active I am on this app, I looove things. I like to think it’s not pure materialism- because I love my butter stick squeeze toy and my mother’s earrings from college and the paper mache birthday cake Jemima got me and my diary from my teenage trip to Cuba where I first French kissed a boy just as much as I love any new designer goods- actually, so much more. But this diffuse passion, the anthropomorphic qualities I can imbue a Christmas card with, mean I’m collecting and collecting, and suddenly I find myself toppling under the weight of my own attachments (and, more literally, under a pile of threadbare bike shorts- they can weigh a lot en masse!) Lu was away for awhile and I turned feral and teenage. He’s back, and spent yesterday on the book shelf. He got “little folders for your little papers.” And today he brought my closet to heel. Suddenly, like a tween girl seeing The Limited Too for the first time, I was falling back in love with all my stuff- and with the little grin he does when he presents a newly tidied space 😭 Last you think this is one-sided: I know that his love language is me editing his emails and acting like I want to watch a bunch of old Stone Roses videos. So that’s what I’m gonna do. For as long as he’ll let me.