On how hard it can be to start as an amateur. I am doing this right now, so I am going to stop. Or start? I am going to do both.
My neck was starting to do a crackle-glaze thing, so I bought Burt’s Bees Intense Hydration Treatment Mask. It makes my skin soft and pink and glow-y for a couple of days. I generally believe beauty potions to be tomfoolery, so I thought I’d let you know.
Justina Blakeney’s quick outline of how to create a repeating pattern. Now I’ll know how to make my own fabric on Project Runway.
Also, friends are doing cool stuff!
Meg Keene just published A Practical Wedding Planner, and if you’re getting married, I recommend it. We’re finding it so helpful.
Maile Wilson just launched a new line of natural leather Epiphanie camera bags, and they’re lovely. If you need a new laptop/camera bag, have a look.
I was shopping for my favorite oolong tea recently and noticed the phrase “bug-bitten,” which I’d never seen before.
“Before the harvest, this tea was bitten by green leaf hoppers, setting off a chain reaction that ultimately created a unique honey-like flavor within the leaves. This bug-bitten Tung Ting Formosa oolong has the aroma of orange blossom honey, with a rich, thick body redolent of tropical mango and passion fruit, and the finish of buttered rum.”
Besides, honey and obvious pollination requirements, is this a thing? Are there any other foods that are known to taste better because of bug interaction?
Photo from Tea Mountains.
This song used to enrage High-School Virgin Maggie. She has long waited for this day.
This candle cracks me up. And causes me to withdraw slightly.
Nerds! Finally the perfect postage stamps for your wedding invitations.
Worth re-reading in the wake of the Tamir Rice verdict, Luvvie’s The Stages of What Happens When There’s Injustice Against Black People.
So many people are recommending the Thing Explainer Book online that I bought one for Hank’s birthday.
Did this woman survive?
I want the Stella McCartney Cassie Silk-Tiered Gown. Play the video and see how it moves.
Hidden Rainbow Hair is magic!
Ozzy is eight months old, and we take a Christmas bath in the deep tub at his grandparents’ house.
He is a slick terror, this wet, naked baby, excited about water. He arches back, takes a deep inhale of his bathwater, and comes up baffled. I am horrified, utterly responsible.
I dip my neck to level our faces. Ozzy coughs at me a few times, staring hard with red eyes. Then he turns away and resumes splashing.
I call at his dad with my heart in my mouth.
“Look up dry drowning.” I say.
“Dry drowning. It’s a thing. I am freaking out.”
Brad consults the appropriate search engine results, and assures me that dry drowning is very rare, and much more dramatic. Ozzy looks fine, he says.
Still. Do you see the feathers on his soft baby head? The way his neck bunches up on itself?
His skin, and his squeaks, and his fat splashing hands, have me praying the Parent Prayer Universal.
Keep breathing tiny baby. Keep breathing. Forever and ever, amen.