5 things for friday
ch ch changes. plus: some very sexy sex scenes, easy zucchini pasta, my new favorite artsy fartsy activity + more
happy friday, friends.
as i write this, new york city is experiencing one of those perfect summer days. storms rolled in last night and swept the city clean, and this morning, we woke up to blue skies, lower temps, and blessedly, lower humidity. i’m spending the afternoon in williamsburg at a hotel pool, a plan hatched by my friend molly, who alerted me to a magical thing called resortpass, which enables you (for a hefty price, admittedly) to gain access to bougie hotels for the day. i’ve packed my beach bag to the brim, stuffed it full of books (both hardcover and kindle), a bead kit (i want to make a penny bracelet), a bevy of sunscreen options. i’ve got a change of clothes for later, when i’ll meet my friend kimmy for a catch up glass of wine, and a little bit of contraband: a bag of baby carrots and a container of cut up fruit i’m hoping to sneak in, because i know myself, and i will order overpriced french fries (and probably a caesar salad, if it’s on the menu) at the pool.
yesterday, i went to pick up penny’s ashes (i chose to have her cremated) at a facility on long island. i packed a bag for the beach, anticipating that i might need a release afterwards. the office was in a nondescript office building off an even more nondescript street, so inconspicuous i most certainly would have missed the turn had i not been paying excellent attention to the gps.
you’re here for penny lane? they asked. i had told them i’d be there between 12 and 1pm, it was 12:15. it was just three people in a 1980s-esque office space. a middle aged man on the phone, a woman seated at a computer towards the back, and barry, the guy who’d taken penny out of my arms not two weeks ago. i asked if i could use the bathroom—i had to pee, having driven 1.5 hours to get there, god bless new york city traffic; even on a random wednesday it does not cease—and took a few deep breaths while i stared at my reflection in the mirror. you can do this, i said to mirror sarah.
when i came out, barry was holding a small wooden box in his hand. he glanced down at it, then said, this is a tiny bit crooked. let me fix it for you. he straightened the little gold sticker that sat in the middle of the box, not seeming to notice that the placement of penny’s name—her full name, penny lane—was also off-centered. i thought about mentioning it. i wanted—want—her final resting place to be perfect. shouldn’t her name be centered? surely it wouldn’t take long for them to reprint it, it wasn’t actual gold, as it had looked on the website, but rather, more like a fancy gold-colored sticker. but then barry said, do you want to see her paw print?
when barry had taken her away that day, i’d managed to show him, through my tears, that penny had thumbs. not just thumbs, but multiple teeny tiny fingers next to then, nestled in between. i wanted him to know that she was special. that she was the most special. he had promised me that he would do his best to capture them in her ink print.
in the harsh office lighting, barry removed the card from its plastic wrapping, and carefully unfolded it.
i know you told me she had thumbs, he said. but i didn’t realize she had them on every paw. i’ve never seen a cat like that. it was amazing.
i had not cried until this moment. i had strolled into the office building thinking i had this shit on lock. i was calm, i was collected, i was a mama bear who had protected her babies until the very last moment, come to deliver mine to her final resting place. but when barry said that, my eyes watered.
i nodded. i think maybe i managed to say, she was special before i took the print from his hands. he asked if i wanted a bag—a bag for what remained of my girl—but i shook my head.
back in the car, i set the box down on the seat, tucked it next to my beach bag.
we’re going to go for a ride, i said to penny. i thought about how much she hated being in the car, hated being shepherded into her carrier. i felt grateful that what sat next to me was just dust, that her soulful self was no longer confined to any one space. that she was free. i wondered if she was staring down at me, watching as i tapped the top of the box and cried.
once i pulled myself together, i turned the car back on, and followed the directions to the beach. there, i spread my towel on hot sand and ate the homemade lunch i’d packed for myself. i stood in the stinging cold water and let it wash over my ankles, the cold throbbing all the way up to my knees. i waited to feel something, anything, but all i felt was a strange, eerie calm.
it took me nearly two hours to get home. two hours of sitting in bumper to bumper traffic on 495. i should have known. and yet, somehow, it didn’t phase me—not much, anyway. when i finally made it back to the lower east side, i snagged a spot under the bridge and placed penny’s box into my beach bag. unlocking my front door, i took it out and placed it on the counter, right next to my laptop. it is sitting next to me as i type this.
you’re home, i said to penny. you’re back home.
it is weird to think about—the idea that what was once a living, breathing thing is just a pile of dust. a pile of dust tucked into a sealed box. when we’re here on earth, awash in our happiness and our hurt, our pride and our regret, it’s impossible to imagine that there will come a time in which we, too, will be just dust. i’ve never thought about death as much as i have these past few weeks. seeing a living creature take its last breath in front of you will do that, i suppose.
i’ve thought about that moment a lot. the moment i knew—i just knew—she was gone. it doesn’t scare me as much as i thought it would. i was so afraid of what the aftermath would feel like. what i would be like without her. but as it turns out, dying wasn’t the hard part. it was everything leading up to it that nearly broke me. death itself was a release. it was almost peaceful. peaceful because penny was no longer in pain.
i wish she was still beside me. my apartment feels so empty, so quiet, without her. bringing her home in a tiny wooden box hasn’t healed me, not completely, anyway. but it has given me a tiny bit of peace—the idea that maybe, just maybe, she knows she is home.
well, now that we’ve all had a good cry…
a few happier things to note:
in the haze of grief, i haven’t felt much like writing. or dating. or doing much of anything beyond keeping myself bathed and fed and exercised. but this week, i opened up the word doc that contains book #2, and i wrote. first 1,000 words, then 2,000, then 3 and 4 and 5,000. as of yesterday, i hit 77,035 words, also known as 250 pages. i am rounding the bend towards the finish line, the ribbons are in sight. i have so much i want to go back and fix, so many things i want to go back and edit—but i am committed to typing two words—the end—before i do. i also got some encouraging feedback on book #1—just enough to make me think that i shouldn’t give up on this whole i want to publish a novel thing altogether, just enough to motivate me to re-open that second file and get to 77k words.
i’ve been toying with the idea of spending some time in europe in september, just to give myself something to look forward to. i have a good amount of delta miles—not enough for a whole flight, but enough to upgrade myself on a cheap one, i think—and i found a fellow house swapper in southern italy who’d like to come to new york this year. i haven’t pulled the trigger yet, but i think i just might. i’ve been researching all the beautiful beaches around the area, and picturing myself donning white linen and carrying my straw tote to the market around the corner. la dolce vita, you know? i’ve not spent any real time in italy, and i don’t love the idea of doing so alone. but also, life is short, and solo travel is way more than its cracked up to be.
i’m finally feeling up to doing a bit of swiping on the apps, and while i haven’t had any dates to speak of, i am chatting with a few folks that seem kind, and normal, and like maybe they won’t ghost me. IT’S A LOW BAR, FOLKS! i’ve got a strong summer tan coming in, and while i desperately need fresh highlights (i am legitimately brunette when my hair is up and i’m ashamed to admit this is killing me just a little bit), i always feel a little prettier when i’ve got that golden glow.
bottom line? life is hard, and thus far, 2024 has been much harder than i anticipated. much harder than i would have chosen, had i had a say in the matter. but we carry on, you know? we’re 6 months into the year, and that means there are 6 more months for good things to happen. and as someone who has had a lot of bad recently, i’m hopeful that soon, things will start looking up. and in the meantime, there is sun, and sand, and—because i am in my late thirties and i do what i want—ice cream whenever i want it.
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now let’s get to some recs, yes?
i really loved the first season of elin hildebrand’s podcast, books, beach, & beyond—but season 2 is putting it to shame. the guests this season are just top notch, each interview is better than the last. such is the case with this week’s guest, novelist and book store owner (she and her husband own books are magic in brooklyn!) emma straub. emma’s the vacationers is one of the best summer reads to ever do it (seriously, if you haven’t read it, GO DO THAT), and i really loved her latest novel, this time tomorrow, which she wrote while her father was dying and which features a woman in a similar situation who figures out a way to time travel back to her 16 year old self and her much younger (and healthy!) father.
the interview with emma is total delight—you can tell elin is fully fangirling over emma’s stories of her UWS upbringing—and she is so much funnier via interview than i would have known her to be just from reading her books! i loved hearing her talk about how shitty her first novel was (also: oy), and how she experimented with multiple genres before managing to publish a novel, but i think you’d enjoy this interview regardless of whether you’re a writer or not.
do you ever read something and think to yourself, i cannot believe this came out of someone’s brain? that’s how i feel about this book. rachel khong’s prose does a magical thing: it is effortlessly readable, your eyes gliding over the words like an oar over perfectly still water, and also, staggeringly beautiful, each sentence thoughtfully placed, each word thoughtfully chosen. real americans, which i devoured in just a few days and which i can’t wait to discuss at my july book club meeting, is the story of 3 generations of chinese americans searching for self-determination. i almost don’t want to tell you more than that, because i feel like it’s best to go into the story blind, buuuut, here’s a short synopsis, just because:
the book is essentially 3 stories, tied together by the string of DNA. it opens in 1999, when 22 year old lily chen, an unpaid intern at a media company, meets matthew allen, a gorgeous (and rich) asset manager. lily and matthew couldn’t be more different. lily is the child of two scientists who fled mao’s cultural revolution; matthew is the heir to a vast pharmaceutical fortune (though lily does not know this at the time). they fall hard and fast, marry and give birth to a son they call nico.
cut to 2021. 15 year old nick chen lives on an isolated washington island with his mother, lily. he has never met his father, knows only that he “didn’t want him.” but when his best friend convinces him to send his saliva to a dna-testing website, he realizes that perhaps the story his mother has told him isn’t the whole truth.
real americans is a story about class, about race, about visibility and invisibility. it asks us to consider who we think deserves to be seen, and who should be hidden. it’s a book about trust, and forgiveness, and i think it might be my favorite thing i’ve read this year. it’s one of those books that reminded me why i love to read—immersive and intelligent—and i can’t wait for you to read it, too.
ps: if you’re a big reader, follow me on goodreads! i try and rank/save every book i read (and i read about 50-60 a year!)
we’re all watching presumed innocent on appleTV, right? good, because i have a few things i want to discuss.
first: the sex scenes. is it just me, or are these sex scenes like…ungodly hot?! in them, jake gyllenhaal—who i would never in my life have thought capable of chemistry like this—comes across as what i like to call dirty hot. like, will give you bedroom eyes across the boardroom table and then throw you up against the wall after everyone leaves the room. the sex scenes are part of the story, but very much not THE story, and yet…i can’t stop thinking about them. like, the director must have done that on purpose, right?!
second: why on earth does the DA have such an odd affectation to his voice? it’s distracting, isn’t it? i can’t get over how much more of an asshole it makes his character. i have to imagine it’s purposeful, but my god—it’s difficult to listen to.
third: do we think rusty did it?! i can’t tell who’s innocent and who’s guilty here, which i suppose is the point. but trust me when i say, i am transfixed. also, i’m sort of into the idea that apple is only releasing one episode a week. there’s a part of me that misses when you had to wait for your favorite show to come out, and this is very much feeding that need.
on my last morning at the jersey shore, i asked my friend amber if there were any farm stands nearby. as it turned out, there was one right near the restaurant at which we were having breakfast, and a few minutes later, i walked out with a pint of perfect blueberries, and a handful of perfect zucchinis. back home in new york, i decided to turn the zucchinis into a summer pasta, grating two of them and slicing the other, then adding in a handful of brightly colored cherry tomatoes (which i pop like candy come summer), some fresh basil, and sliced almonds.
it’s less of a recipe and more of a suggestion of items to combine, but it was so delicious that i had to share here.
summer squash pasta
what you’ll need:
3 zucchinis, 2 grated, 1 sliced (i cut off the ends, then slice down the middle the short way to cut them in half, then the long way to half them vertically, then horizontally again. is that the most confusing explanation ever?)
about 1 - 1.5 cups cherry tomatoes. these will cook down in the heat, so no need to slice ‘em
4 cloves of garlic (i use the frozen diced ones from tj’s)
2 tbsp evoo (eyeball this, you just want to coat the bottom of your large skillet)
16 oz pasta of your choice (you can decrease this if you’re cooking for one and don’t want leftovers)
1/4 cup sliced almonds. you could use sliced, or pine nuts, or omit completely, but i like the crunch they add
1 cup finely grated parmesan (i used a hunk of parm from tj’s, but if you have fancier, even better!)
1 lemon (for squeezing over at the end to add a little kick)
what you’ll do:
start by prepping your zucchinis. grate two of them on a box grater, then slice the third. the grated portion will cook down into a sauce, the sliced one will serve as sweet bites of deliciousness + add texture. using a fine grater (i use a zester), grate yourself about 1 cup of parmesan cheese and set it aside.
heat a saucepan of salted water on the stove. when it’s at a rolling boil, toss in your pasta.
once the pasta goes in, start your ‘sauce.’ i use a large sauté pan (this one from caraway), but anything that can ultimately hold both the pasta and the sauce will do. add in your evoo and heat on medium. once the oil is warm (not crackling hot, just heated!), add in your garlic, and cook til fragrant. toss in the sliced zucchini and the tomatoes + a sprinkle of salt—your grated zucchini will cook a tiny bit faster, so it can wait a minute—and stir regularly for a few minutes, until the zucchini is golden and the tomatoes are all round and shiny, like they miiiight just burst.
at this point, your pasta should be getting close to al dente. keep an eye on it!
add the grated zucchini to the sauté pan, and season with a touch more salt. add more olive oil if need be, and stir ‘til it, too, is golden (this should happen relatively quickly!).
now, take a ladle (or a 1/2 cup) and scoop a bit of pasta water into your sauté pan. the starch from the water is what will help make your sauce. stir to combine, and then, using a small strainer, add the pasta (by now, it should be al dente—ie, still a tiny bit hard, but could cook a teensy bit longer) into the sauté pan, too. you could also drain the pasta completely in a strainer, so long as you reserve the pasta water (you might need more for the sauce).
turn the heat down to low, add your grated parm, and cook for another minute or two, until the cheese has melted down into the sauce and finely coated the pasta.
remove from the heat, and sprinkle with almonds and top with cut basil, and a squeeze of lemon. season with a few cracks of black pepper, and add more salt to taste. et voila! a perfect summer dinner.
consider this your reminder that arts and crafts are fun. it took me 4 tries to make this penny bracelet without snapping (note to self: bead string is better than stretchy bead elastic. i’m ordering this one!), but once i finally got it right, it brought me an immeasurable amount of joy. if you, too, want to get crafty this summer (it’s the perfect beach or pool activity, if i do say so myself!), might i suggest a bead kit? the exact one i bought last year is no longer available, but this one looks pretty darn close. i also really like this colorful smiley face + alphabet set, which is currently sitting in my cart.
ps: if you are particularly intrepid, you may have noticed a change here.
i was (finally, after a bit of back and forth!) able to secure the subdomain (URL) i wanted for this newsletter. next month, i’ll start working on branding the newsletter with its new name—big feelings—and mayyybe even making my merch dreams (forever a goal of mine) a reality. i know those of you who voted said you couldn’t care less about the trappings of the newsletter, but just in case you’ve noticed: a makeover is upon us!
and that, friends, is where i leave you. if you like this post, it would mean the world to me if you’d hit the little heart icon, as well as consider sharing it with your network—so that the grand weekly can be seen by more people.
Thank you for sharing about Penny; your writing about her is so touching and real. I have two kitties who just turned 5 and am snuggling them extra much. Thinking of you and your sweet fur baby; she sounds like she was so very loved.
I relate SO MUCH to that feeling of strange calm after losing a precious animal. It’s hard to explain the feeling but those who have been there know it. Sending you more moments of calm and peace