Raiding my parents’ garden on Sunday afternoon has led to some crazy good fresh fruit and veggie dishes this week. Photographing said dishes has made me realize I have a weird fixation on circles in food photography.

I’ve had a serious obsession with design of London restaurants lately. I know that’s random. But I love them. Like this new spot in southwest London. And this Paradise By Way of Kensal Green, which I found because I was looking up best boozy brunch spots in London and I got so distracted by the design I forgot about the booze, which never happens. I love super innovative spots like sketch, but I’m such a sucker for these bright-and-airy-meets-cozy-and-convivial spots. I really need one to move in down the street from me so I can quit being tempted to move in down the street from one of these.

I’ve had a serious obsession with design of London restaurants lately. I know that’s random. But I love them. Like this new spot in southwest London. And this Paradise By Way of Kensal Green, which I found because I was looking up best boozy brunch spots in London and I got so distracted by the design I forgot about the booze, which never happens. I love super innovative spots like sketch, but I’m such a sucker for these bright-and-airy-meets-cozy-and-convivial spots. I really need one to move in down the street from me so I can quit being tempted to move in down the street from one of these.

Choice

A few weeks ago I was talking to my brother about my frustration with my seeming inability to make big choices. He’d sent me a chapter from the book Predictably Irrational: The Hidden Forces That Shape Our Decisions. It’d come at just the right time as I was trying to make about 17 large-ish decisions. The point of the chapter he’d sent was that we humans get so caught up in choosing the right door, we often leave WAY too many doors open.

I’d thought about that a lot—and then, of course, decided to leave all my doors open. (Did I mention I’m bad at decisions?) But then my brother made an off hand comment that really struck me. He said, “You know, you don’t actually have enough information—and no one could possibly have enough information in this situation—to know what the right choice is.”

This might be the best thing anyone has ever said to me. Decision making is my greatest source of anxiety. And I don’t necessarily mean the big moment of making a choice even—I mean the constants. Should I still be in this job? Should I continue to spend time with this person? Should I remain living in this city? They play on repeat in my head.

But this thought—that I might not have all the information yet (or ever) to make the “right” decision—it was a game changer for me. A few weeks later, I watched philosopher Ruth Chang’s TED Talk on “How to make hard choices.” It reinforced this idea—and added to it. Her point is that with hard decisions, no choice is necessarily better or right. But that with hard choices comes immense opportunity to shape who we are—we ultimately have the chance to become the person we choose to be. “The lesson of hard choices: Reflect on what you can put your agency behind—on what you can be for,” she says. “And through hard choices become that person.”

I’d imagine to a lot of people this is obvious life stuff—make the best choice you can and then embrace it. But I don’t think I’m alone (since, you know, these books and talks are awfully popular). And I like that part too. We all struggle with indecision. Which—if Chang is correct (and I think she is)—means we all have the chance to become the people we want to be. I like that.

The research, reporting, and writing that created this article are remarkable. The stories are actually fairly unremarkable—and ultimately that’s what makes them devastatingly sad. It’s worth a read if you’re ok with crying at your desk.

Well, this is an obvious reblog.

(Source: meredithbklyn)

So something really cool happened this weekend.
My trip to San Francisco was pretty last minute. And on Saturday morning my dad texted me (around 5 AM because parents evidently don’t understand time zones) to tell me that my cousin Kristin and her family were walking in San Francisco’s Avon Walk for Breast Cancer. And that Kristin, who has stage 4 breast cancer, was the keynote speaker for the event. He suggested I go see her speak. 
Around 8 AM, we were walking along the bay when thousands of people dressed in pink began streaming past us. And I literally ran into my aunt, uncle, and numerous cousins who live in Utah and California. (Want to really surprise someone? Run up to them 3,000 miles from where they expect you to be at 8 AM on a Saturday.)
So yesterday afternoon it was gorgeous and sunny and breezy and we went to the park overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge and watched Kristin speak to the crowd. I felt really proud. I also felt really overwhelmed by the strange ways life sometimes just falls into place.

So something really cool happened this weekend.

My trip to San Francisco was pretty last minute. And on Saturday morning my dad texted me (around 5 AM because parents evidently don’t understand time zones) to tell me that my cousin Kristin and her family were walking in San Francisco’s Avon Walk for Breast Cancer. And that Kristin, who has stage 4 breast cancer, was the keynote speaker for the event. He suggested I go see her speak.

Around 8 AM, we were walking along the bay when thousands of people dressed in pink began streaming past us. And I literally ran into my aunt, uncle, and numerous cousins who live in Utah and California. (Want to really surprise someone? Run up to them 3,000 miles from where they expect you to be at 8 AM on a Saturday.)

So yesterday afternoon it was gorgeous and sunny and breezy and we went to the park overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge and watched Kristin speak to the crowd. I felt really proud. I also felt really overwhelmed by the strange ways life sometimes just falls into place.

I spent one of my favorite weekends ever in San Francisco this weekend. Naturally, I have food photos.

On Saturday morning we met with friends to go wander around the Ferry Building Farmer’s Market before lunch. We ended up eating the equivalent of like six meals “sampling” the market’s fare (a pimento cheese and maple bacon hot dog counts as a sample, right?). Then lunch at The Slanted Door went on for three courses—including cotton candy and lavender ice cream. So yeah, like I said, one of my favorite weekends ever.

They're Not Zoologists

Mom: This morning there was a giant slug outside the back door.
Me: Well, that's gross.
Mom: It had legs.
Me: Yeah, that doesn't sound like a slug.
Mom: It was very strange. So I told your father he needed to get rid of it before he went to work. So I handed him a paper towel and he said "I'm not picking that thing up with a paper towel."
Me: Seems fair. I wouldn't pick up a slug with legs with a paper towel.
Mom: Turns out, it was a bat.
Me: ...

A Story

On Sunday afternoon I flew home from a weekend with family on a lake in Alabama. It would take about 47 pages of blogging to explain all the reasons I felt crazy stressed by the time I boarded that flight, but I did. And all I wanted to do was sit in silence with my thoughts for the hour and fourteen minute flight.

Then a guy sat down next to me. “This isn’t my seat. I’m supposed to sit over there, but someone else is in my seat.” I nodded. I liked his voice. You know how you can hear kindness in someone’s voice? I think I’m probably a terrible judge of character in general. But I get voices.

He began talking almost immediately. “I’m a therapist so I ask a lot of questions. Just tell me if you want me to stop.” “I’m a journalist so I’ve been told I ask a lot of questions too. We should be good.” I’ve also been told I ask questions to deflect the subject from anything actually personal about me. But I figured I’d let the therapist figure that out on his own.

We talked for an hour and fourteen minutes. Sixteen if you count the deplaning. I literally poured out my worries and concerns as if this was a legitimate therapy session. It obviously wasn’t. We also talked about him. And as the plane was landing he was like “So you’re pretty shady.” I laughed, “I hope you don’t say that to your patients.”

Actually though, therapists should probably say stuff like that. I mean, it’s got to be tempting. Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about stuff like fate and timing and random circumstances. I don’t exactly know where he fell in that spectrum, but I do know that I’m really glad someone took his seat.

It’s a little overdue with the 4th, but a friend showed this dachshund with a firecracker video to me and well, I’m incapable of not sharing dachshund videos.

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