is there anything truly more luxurious than a daytime shower? as a nighttime showerer, the daily ritual of cleansing myself and hopping into clean clothes is a reward. a signifier of a day well spent: there’s a sense of having earned a shower after being made to sit at a desk and crank out ideas or having walked the dogs their compulsory two+ miles for the day. but a midday shower? one where the daylight reaches in through the window and casts long shadows across the cool ceramic tiles? where you have the time to get a playlist going while the water warms to the perfect, some might say tepid, temperature? sumptuous. opulent, an absolute sublime pleasure.
I’ve been feeling lackluster as of late. blame it on the greyest May in recent memory, the too-cold Pacific and the San Gabriels and Sierras culminating in a marine layer that makes it feel like autumn instead of early summer. my body and my tomato plant are both confused, stuck in a hybrid state of hibernation unbecoming to either. I’m not quite sure how to shake the feeling and needing a sweater in the mornings certainly does not help. the only things that have been helping? sparkling americanos and maybe kicking off my annual rewatch of Mad Men.
listen, this show is a goddamn masterpiece and also the reason I ever got on reddit in the first place. look at this fandom, we are COMMITTED and I stan stans who stan this way.
*/ recent tidbits, so to speak:
I cannot for the life of me pick out a sweet, ripe watermelon despite all of my googling and ancestral fortitude. I, unlike others, am simply not blessed with this gift.
we just caught up on The Bear and damn, do I need to start using the smaller cans of pomodoro? do they really taste better? (I’m not missing the point, I just think Michael may have been onto something.)
please tell me not to spend a hundred bucks on this confetti-looking-ass cutting board that I have been obsessed with since last winter. the house currently has 5+ cutting boards, but I simply cannot resist the allure(!!)
I recently discovered this Instagram account called ‘liminal_club’ and it’s equal parts comforting nostalgia and uncanny creepiness. I think it’s the lack of people in the spaces combined with the music. it’s slightly off-putting– like a half step, a breath being held that you didn’t realise you were holding. it’s also, at times, quite beautiful.
speaking of liminal, today is the 5 year anniversary of my beloved partner «not» getting impaled on a bushel of irons pipes when he was hit by a camry whilst commuting on his motorcycle on the 10. footage can be found here for your viewing pleasure, for the very curious.
I made him a lil drawing:
to which he replied, “oh is it that time of year again?”
I had also made him a piñata of said camry in our first year of dating:
because that’s how you win a man’s heart, by furnishing their near-death experiences with personalised piñatas. now you know.
I’ll leave you, dear reader, with one final wispy thought:
crispy prosciutto is precisely 72x better than regular prosciutto. crumple each thin layer into something resembling a rosette and air-fry at 400 for 5 minutes, then crumble over salad, pasta salad, or soup. better than bacon bits, by a mile.
thanks for tuning into my all-nonsense newsletter yet again.
adieu for now, my perfectly spriggy broccolinis,
xx
NO CONFETTI CUTTING BOARD. please :)