Monday Miscellany: Letting excitement filter through my limbs to the tips of my digits
Notes from February 10 - 16
Do you know that feeling that bubbles up after you finally finish something that you needed to do, or something you’d been dreading? The mix of relief and accomplishment and wide open possibility? Now that that’s behind you, you’ve fulfilled your obligation, the weight’s been lifted, and you’re free to choose what’s next. It’s delicious. That’s the vibe here right now, for a few very different reasons:
Our kitten, Phoebe, had minor surgery on Friday to remove a small lump, and she made it through just fine and is recovering beautifully. We’re still waiting for the analysis results, but I already feel super relieved just knowing the procedure’s over and the foul spot is out.
I’ve been slogging through one (relatively short) novel all week for a book club and not really enjoying it, but I wrapped it up yesterday and now I’m reading something else that I’m much more excited about.
Oh, and I signed on for an extra coffee shop opening shift this week, which was today—so I’m a little sleepy, but I did it and I’m here.
I hope your week is also off to an okay start!
Currently reading
All the Water in the World by Eiren Caffall is the Gretagram book club pick for this month, and I was really hyped going in because it was pitched as Station Eleven meets From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler (two books I have loved at various points in my life)! My expectation: a story set during an uncertain, scary time, about a journey to save knowledge and lives, heartwarmingly full of hope and animal facts. I wanted to emerge feeling more whole.
This is a work of climate fiction (scary time: check), and yes, it starts out in a museum of natural history (animal facts: check), but ultimately (and unfortunately) it didn’t work for me—by the end I just felt frustrated, unsettled, and despondent.
The beginning of the story leans heavily into some of my deepest fears, namely powerful storms with high winds and destructive flooding, and it felt way too close to real life to be enjoyable. I most often read in the morning to start my day or before bed to wind down at night, and at neither of those times did I feel like revving up my anxiety and dread.
Too much is explained through flashbacks, which are frequent but not differentiated from the present-day narrative clearly enough to avoid confusion. There are a lot of characters who only exist in the past (they’re already dead when the novel opens) who are referenced a lot but whose names blurred together because I didn’t feel that I’d gotten to know them at all.
And in general, the characters throughout felt two-dimensional, the plot way too slowly-moving, and the emotional moments unearned. The setup was incredibly promising but the execution was meh. I wanted to love it and alas, I was disappointed.
Have you read this one? Reviews out there seem mixed, so I’d love to hear about other people’s experiences with it.
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Currently watching
Our local indie theater is celebrating its 15th anniversary this year by bringing back and showing one film from each year it’s been open. The first in the series, Beginners (2010), played last Wednesday. It was such a treat to experience this one on the big screen again—I’m pretty sure I saw it at this same theater when it was originally released (how was that so long ago), and I’m also pretty sure I was crying this time around before the opening credits had even faded. So wholesome, so sad, so tender. Watching Christopher Plummer in this role after seeing the recently circulating photo of him ripping the Nazi flag with his bare hands has me itching to revisit The Sound of Music soon.
I’ve been meaning to watch American Fiction (2023) ever since I read Erasure by Percival Everett for The Stacks book club last year. There were a few parts of the book that had me wondering how they’d be adapted, but I thought the whole thing was very well done. The tone was all over the place—serious and poignant one moment, shocking and hilarious the next—but I liked that it kept me guessing.
We don’t care for Woody Allen as a human being in this household, but the way Midnight in Paris (2011) brings familiar literary and artistic figures to life is just… truly chef’s kiss. My favorites are Adrien Brody as Salvador Dalí and Corey Stoll as Ernest Hemingway. So good.
Godzilla Minus One (2023) was new to me, and described by a friend as “a really good movie that just happens to have Godzilla in it.” That feels correct. It’s not a big flashy monster flick, really, but a quiet examination of bravery, grief, and guilt in wartime, a celebration of friendship, family, and working as a team. With bonus heat rays.
And another thing
I warned you last week there’d be more sweater talk. With just a few more rows I’ll be ready to knit the ribbing at the bottom of the torso, and then it’ll be time to add the sleeves. Look at her!
In charming nature news: when a proposed dam construction project south of Prague was delayed by bureaucratic red tape, some beavers just went ahead and built it themselves. This is the type of story I would like to see more of, please and thank you.
Speaking of animals, I was falling asleep the other night when this question popped into my head out of nowhere: do cats have belly buttons? Reader, they do.
Tiramisu is perhaps my all-time favorite dessert, so when this New York Times recipe for it crossed my path this week, I saved it immediately.
Haiku round-up
Monday, February 10
Row after row of v-shaped stitches all lined up: tangible progress
Tuesday, February 11
Quiet gathering, faces illuminated in the soft lamp light
Wednesday, February 12
Not too much at once. One or two chores, then a break— this is how it’s done.
Thursday, February 13
The simplest pleasure: Cram together on the couch for a movie night
Friday, February 14
Waiting for updates, we float, unsettled, through this topsy-turvy day
Saturday, February 15
A good life, measured in board games, bowls of soup, and vinyl album flips
Sunday, February 16
Fill your life with friends who absolutely don’t care if your toilet’s clean
Until next time
Lately I keep catching myself waking up from little depressive funks that I didn’t even realize I had descended into. Maybe it’s been cold and overcast and raining for three or four days straight, and my body has internalized this as its new reality—but then a sunny day comes along and I remember how it feels to walk around outside soaking up some much-needed vitamin D, daydreaming and planning and letting excitement filter through my limbs to the tips of my digits. And suddenly life looks totally different. I’ve been thinking about that, both literally and figuratively. Just like the short string of cold grey days always lets up, I’m reminding myself that the winter will soon give way to spring, and eventually, the horrible broader political moment we’re in will shift. It will. And in the meantime, we have each other. And when we’re lucky, horribly pretty sunsets, too.
See you next week, and until then, I’m channeling this so hard!
—Emily
If you have any feedback, or want to tell me what you’re reading or listening to, I’d love to hear it! You’re always welcome to leave a comment or reply directly to this email.