- I'm really looking forward to when my friend Katie has kids.
- Me: How's Rosie?
- Katie: She was a little smelly today. So I sprayed her with some Febreeze. Which she didn't seem to like.
- Me: You Febreezed my dog?
- Katie: Well, what was I supposed to do? I mean, I guess I could have spritzed her with my Chanel No. 5.
Technically, it’s still another month until summer is official. Technically.
But at night, when I wander the sidewalks of my neighborhood with the pups and the fragrance of magnolia blossoms mingles with the scents of a backyard cookout in the warm air, I can’t help but think it’s here.
I love summer. It’s my favorite. Winter is cold and dark, spring is all heady anticipation, and fall always feels a little ominous. But summer is long sun-drenched days and warm skin and cool swims and the smell of wisteria and the sound of lawn mowers on early mornings. I love the thick warm air that stretches into the night and the way asphalt is still warm to the touch long after the sun has set. I love the tastes of summer. Voluptuous tomatoes, luscious blueberries, succulent sweet corn. Proof that Mother Nature has a sybaritic side.
So, while it’s not technically correct, I’m counting this Memorial Day weekend as summer’s arrival. And I’m pretty excited about it.
Love this article.
My company announced today that we have our second mandatory furlough of the year (print journalism, it’s not the best). Luckily, I’ve discovered that I love furloughs. Not so much the “not getting paid” part, but the “vacation days when no one from work is legally allowed to contact me” part. And also the mandatory “cocktails every day and new heights of laziness” part (I may have made this part up, but I hold firm to it).
So I immediately emailed my family to let them know the good news and that I’d be able to make their beach trip despite having no vacation days. And also to let them know about the cocktails part. This was my brother’s reaction. He gets it.
Last night I had a meeting with three women. We’re working together on some rebranding/marketing for an organization with which we all volunteer.
We gathered at a corner table in a Panera where we’ve met in the past. I feel humbled just to sit at a table with these women. They all have that combination of authentic selflessness and thoughtfulness that’s so elusive in this world of clamoring self-promotion (see: blogs called “In My Opinion”).
But one of the women in particular has struck a chord. She’s the founder of the organization. And she is amazing. The organization exists because she saw people in need and refused not to help. That’s inspiring. But it’s actually not entirely what makes me so grateful to have crossed paths with her.
As we sat at the table, me checking my phone and pulling up lists and trying to figure out where on my calendar I was going to squeeze in the time to complete this project, she broke in to my anxious thoughts and commented that she didn’t even care if nothing came from all of these meetings. I looked up from scrolling through emails, surprised.
“To me, I’ve learned that everything really is about the journey,” she said, her eyes crinkling at the edges as she grinned at us all. “I’m so excited to have these few hours with the three of you. This moment is the important thing. I’m enjoying this so much.”
Let me remind you that we were sitting in a Panera talking about branding strategies. But all of the sudden I felt something shift inside me. What she said wasn’t particularly revolutionary, but I could tell that she really meant it. For her, living in the moment wasn’t—as it so often is—an excuse for a fear of the future or a way to ignore the past. It was a deep gratitude for life—all of it.
In months of paying a therapist to tell me things to make me feel less anxious nothing has come close to the peace I felt instantly from this woman’s simple delight in the present. Turns out, she was exactly right. I believe good products will come from these meetings, but the most important thing for me was actually that precise moment.
-Did anyone actually read “The Great Gatsby”? by Zachary M. Seward
Don’t get me wrong. I’m probably looking forward to this movie’s premier more than anyone. I mean, it’s a movie starring Leonardo DiCaprio with a score by Jay-Z. This is the stuff of my dreams. But this article kind of nails it on the whole “we’re doing exactly the same thing that Fitzgerald was trying to portray as detrimental and we’re doing it under the guise of celebrating his literature because America is, at its core, hedonistic, which is, ironically, why this book remains a great American novel.” There. Now you don’t even have to read this article.
- Katie: So my second day at work went pretty well.
- Me: Have you seen this dachshund Obie? He had a skin removal surgery. He looks so cute and pathetic.
- Katie: Um. I was talking about something serious.
- ... 3 hours later ...
- Katie: It's really cool that we just met a pro golfer. Do you think I should @ him on Twitter?
- Me: I wonder when Obie gets out of the hospital.
- Katie: I'm going to punch you in your face. You NEVER listen to me!
- Me: I feel like we'd already talked about the pro golfer enough. It was time to move on to the next thing.
- Katie: AN OBESE DACHSHUND ISN'T THE NEXT THING. WE'VE ALREADY TALKED ABOUT IT TONIGHT. I can't believe I'm having this conversation. Again.