70 - Sneaking Back Into Your Inbox Like Nothing Happened
On the table 8.12.25
hi friends, it’s been a minute! life has this charming habit of throwing all the pasta at you—and sometimes every single noodle sticks. then you’re standing there, peeling off soggy pasta like some weird performance art piece. you follow? cool. in short: health stuff happened, family stuff happened, work stuff happened… and somewhere in there, i was asked to write a short script (turned in Sunday, cue applause). i’m now accepting gift cards for spas, plane tickets, or both.
High of the week: finishing the script i was working on!
Low of the week: having to kick off the week with a 7am meeting. uncivilized.
Thoughts & Things:
three years ago i’d never been to the Hollywood Bowl. now i’m there three times in a month. call that a personality shift
Oreo has been killing it with the flavors this summer. horchata? yes please. chocolate pretzel? could destroy in one sitting. blueberry pie? okay, this one was pretty gross—it tasted like a blueberry scented candle and air freshener
not to be dramatic, but the Project Hail Mary trailer made me genuinely sad. it’s one of my all-time favorite books (i’ve lost track of how many people i’ve gifted or aggressively recommended it to) and, maybe hot take, but Ryan Gosling doesn’t feel right for it. plus, the trailer gives away way too much. part of the magic and joy of this story is the discovery, and it’s hard to watch that get spoiled in under two minutes. cure tiny violin for early-bird members of the “book was better” club
a new dating app for the romantics who believe compatibility starts with matching google histories.
Most of this year has been me spent at my computer, questioning the mental stability of anyone who says they’re “fine.” But at the end of May, I escaped for TWO glorious day to Mammoth (my first time!). It’s a wild place with barely any wifi, an aggressive number of trees, and shiny sky dots they call “stars.”
We stayed in an adorable cabin, so quiet I thought I’d gone deaf. No neighbors having a Tuesday night party to lull me to sleep; no helicopters circling for hours like they were playing an elaborate game of Where’s Waldo. And I needn’t have worried about missing my cats, because the cabin had ants roughly their size. We gave them names like Roy and Alana.
The next day, we hiked a snow-covered trail, which marked my first time using walking sticks. It was very rugged explorer meets retiree on a brisk morning walk. I’d be remiss to leave out that I did end up wearing one of those bug net hats, and tbh, I peaked and there is sadly no record of it. My dreams of becoming a wilderness style icon will now never come to pass.
Coming back to LA felt like reentering civilization after months in the wild, except it had only been two days and my “wild” still included indoor toilets. Still, in a burst of post-trip generosity, I told my partner I’d go camping with him someday. Capped it at two nights, because while I now identify as someone who can can survive the elements, I absolutely cannot. I’m someone who considers a weak shower head “roughing it.”
I’ve watched many a thing lately, so here are my one-liner reviews of the ones that actually left a mark (good, bad, or “why did I do that to myself?”). Fair warning, there’s a good deal of horror in the mix.
Drop: went in with low expectations, came out having had fun. Character growth.
Sinners: liked it but not enough to join the cult.
Bring Her Back: if you scare easy, don’t even watch the trailer.
This Is Spinal Tap: first viewing and yeah, it goes to eleven.
Aftersun: Paul Mescal is the master of quiet nuanced acting.
Naked Gun: got one or two snort laughs out of me.
Weapons: story, acting, cinematography, creepiness, comedy… all 10/10.
Sorry, Baby: stunning and gutting, but with jokes that knew exactly where to find me.
First off, this isn’t sponsored… though if ClassPass wanted to change that, I’d be available.
I’m someone who likes working out, not the doing of it (90% of class is me staring at the clock like it owes me money), but the after part. The part where my anxiety finally shuts up for an hour and I get to casually drop into conversation that I “just finished a workout.” When I re-joined ClassPass, I pictured myself hopping between random classes. It would be my own fitness version of Eat Pray Love. Instead, I only go to the same three places, because once I’ve found a class that makes me forget to stare at the clock, I cling to it like a raft. Part comfort, part knowing I can probably get through it without a major injury… though I do currently have two scabbed elbows from a plank, which, honestly, just proves I’m out here doing fitness. Besides, the thought of a late cancellation fee is a source of motivation.
Working out is like therapy, but with worse lighting and more mirrors to cry in front of. Still, there’s something about leaving a class red-faced and sweaty that feels like proof I can do hard things—even on the days my brain insists otherwise. I don’t always love the workout, but I love the reminder that my body is capable, and sometimes that’s enough to quiet the noise upstairs for awhile.
Did a decent amount of reading while I was away. Here are my 1–2 sentence reviews for those books—some I loved, some I tolerated, and one felt like a personal attack on my free time.
Lula Dean’s Little Library of Banned Books by Kirsten Miller: reluctantly picked it up, fully expected cheese. got heart, humor, a political punch, and a tear or two instead.
All The Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr: very good, but hated how parts of it still feel timely…
A Very Bad Thing by T.J. Ellison: not to be dramatic, but I felt personally wronged by this book. It was all build-up, no climax.
Love, Theoretically by Ali Hazelwood: okaaaay charming, fun, sexy… and I’m a sucker for a smart protagonist. Plenty of climax here.
Is She Really Going Out With Him? by Sophie Cousens: charming, sweet, cute… basically the romcom snack my brain was craving.
Party of Liars by Kelsey Cox: murder, mystery, and an ending that actually surprised me. My ego is still recovering.
These Summer Storms by Sarah MacLean: a family drama, enemies-to-lovers, and some deliciously petty scandal.
The Change by Kirsten Miller: new favorite unlocked. incredible from start to finish; re-read already on the calendar.
Long gone are the days of Franzia—no more smacking the bag while mentally preparing to drink something that tastes like regret. Now, genuinely good wine has entered the group chat. Take Djuice (technically just the bag, but it still counts) or Boxie, both proof that wine in a bag or box can be delicious and somehow chic. Honestly? I’m here for it. Wine in a box (or bag) means less waste, it stays fresh longer, and it removes the pressure to “just finish the bottle” because it won’t be good tomorrow. Boxie also sells their wines in bottles, but—and I never thought I’d say this—I’ve preferred the taste of the one poured from the box over the one from the bottle. No bias either: every time, I’ve ordered then checked what it came out of. Plus, there’s something nice about pouring an actually good cab from a spout, it’s giving cozy night in, not college basement party. Besides, it makes wine feel a lot more approachable.
thanks for reading — and if you’re reading this, thanks for still being here. i can’t promise i’m back to sending these on a perfectly consistent schedule (we’ve met me), but i am planning to get back to writing them more regularly. in the meantime, consider this my soft launch back into your inbox.
