Hey you,
Welcome back to The Good Things.
I’ve been thinking a lot about chaos. Even the word invokes this physical response in me. Like, “please no, if possible?” Or, “could we not?” And it feels like that word, that feeling, is popping up in so many areas around us right now. As I experience my own challenges, and losses, and feelings of precarity, it seems to me that the antidote to overwhelm, overstimulation, and being properly over-fucked-with by technology is presence.
To live so fully in the moment that when the moment is good, you indulge in it. You let that buzzing warmth of happiness or awe or joy or pride run free inside you, filling every corner and space of your being. It reminds you that there is also, always, good and calm and lightness. And then the feeling passes, as all feelings do. But if we have the capacity to notice it while it’s here, living gets better.
This all came to me while I was watering my plants this week. Side note: will I ever get good at taking care of succulents? I sure am trying, you guys, but my averages in this category are comically low. Anyway, I’m watering these succulents and I don’t know why, but it hit me. I really noticed them. I let myself look and wonder and appreciate. How unique they are. How full of beauty the natural world is. How these plants are living just like I am, and yet I know so little about their how. And that was it. A few minutes full of wonder amidst the most mundane of tasks.
And I was so thankful for that moment because I let the good in. And that’s been happening for me lately. As though something in me is reminding me that if we have to carry the rough stuff, then we must make room for the good stuff too. Right alongside it. Just as important.
Other examples of this simple presence this month were the group of young men I saw having dinner together, talking about the cocktails they were having and their thoughts on pork belly tacos. Just their interaction and appreciation of the dining experience melted me. And a little voice inside me whispered, “I’m like that too.” Or how stunningly beautiful my daughter looked running along the canal, backlit by the morning sun. Her hair like corn silk and her feet kicking up dust behind her. It’s as though the entire moment was sparkling. And I let that love fill me to the brim.
Presence. Of course it is so.
It’s not like they haven’t been telling us. Maybe we just have to hear it over and over again until something in us aligns with the timing of things and we remember. And it hits us good and square. Be present. Pay attention.
And I’m sure that I’ll forget again. And let the unknown of it all carry my steadiness away for a minute. But for now, I’m appreciating the remembering. I’m noticing the really little things. And feeling grateful when I do.
A Few Things I’m Into
Listening to: The Air That I Breathe — The Hollies
I can’t help but sing to this song. Maybe you need it too, to sing loud and free in your car.
Cooking:
French toast is having a moment in my household, and I have no complaints. It’s simple, quick, and utterly joy-inducing. I use really good sourdough, really good eggs, really good vanilla, and really good milk, all of which I always have on hand. What I love most is that it feels like a special treat, and yet it’s incredibly rustic and unfussy.
French Toast for Two
2 eggs
¾ cup milk
1 teaspoon good vanilla
1 teaspoon maple syrup
Pinch of salt
- Whisk everything together in a shallow bowl.
- Soak two thick slices of bread, one at a time. Don’t rush this part. Soak your second piece while the first is cooking.
- Cook over medium-low heat in butter, or ghee if you have it.
- Serve however you wish. I like it best with the lightest brush of maple syrup and a sprinkle of flaky salt.
Craving: Scar of the Sea — 2024 Topotero Vineyard Gamay
Juicy, alive, and a little bit dreamy, it’s the kind of wine you open when you want the night to feel special, easy, and just a little indulgent without trying too hard.
Buying: Weck Jars
Who knew we’d go so niche here, huh? I recently became fed up with my drinkwear situation. The sheer quantity of cups, the way it all fit in the cabinet, the mismatched lids. Maddening. The fix that has brought me the most joy? Swapping mason jars for Weck jars. They’re more soulful, better proportioned, and most importantly, they stack. They hold everything from collagen powder to flowers on the table. I’m loving the 742 and 743, but you do you.
Reading: The Lost Art of Sharing a Bottle
An interesting conversation starter if nothing else, but for me, this one landed somewhere deeper. It reinforced something I care about a lot: that there is real value in slowing down, sharing, and committing a little time to one another. A lovely reminder of my why. So, for all of you friends and loved ones who’ve shared a bottle with me, thank you. I love you. That was fun.
Wild Rye Corner:
I recently made our sugar cookie mix with brown butter, chopped dates, orange zest, and cardamom, and yeah. Wow. Deeply caramely and almost Werther’s-hard-candy-like, with a subtle little warmth from ¼ teaspoon of cardamom. Then that bright, beautifying thing that only citrus zest can do. They were special cookies. I hope you make them.
Alright, that’s it for this month.
With love,
Sarah