For months I have been admiring the beautiful little altars Nichole of California Sister has been making. They are beautiful, and I loved the idea of a spot to gather inspiration, focus my breath, and put forth intentions. I’ve been watching and waiting for juuuuust the right one to come along and resonate with me. Ever a can-doer and also not entirely patient, this week I finally decided to try my had at making my own, and I am so pleased with the results.
For my little altar I scoured FB marketplace and then went thrifting, where I eventually found an inexpensive wood clock I thought I could repurpose for my own ends. I carefully took it apart, peeling away old gobs of glue and disassembling the clock mechanism, and then sanded the whole thing to help my paint adhere. Two coats of spray paint+primer did the trick, and then I hand applied gold leaf to the glass before back-painting it black to make for a decorative background for the top area of my altar. The piece de resistance was the leather-mounted lion’s head I repurposed from a cool old bottle I thrifted. He is my altar figurehead.
For me, the lion represents my fierce loves and fierce protectiveness and loyalty. The way I try to radiate light to the world around me. And the beauty I want to embody, like a big cat’s sensual grace. The items I have placed inside for now include:
a tiny handpainted Chinese bottle, to honor my family and my heritage
a little photo of my two dogs who have passed on, to keep them close
a smooth heart-shaped labradorite stone, for romantic love and also as a reminder to choose myself
a sweet-smelling votive, to be a light in the dark
a baby disco ball given to me by a dear friend many years ago, for friendship and memories
a fairy I’ve had since I was young, to remind me to dream
Thank you, Nichole, for your talent and inspiration. I’m not entirely sure yet what small rituals or practices will grow from this new little space of mine, but for the moment I’m content to focus, breathe, and enjoy. I brought in a single plumeria yesterday, just for the simple tiny joy of it. Right now, that feels like enough.
You know how sometimes your brain can be on overdrive? Not for a little while, but for several days or weeks? Lots of things swirling around, lots of opportunities for growth to be had, lots of love and heartbreak, maturing, digging, seeking, pondering, and finding. Sometimes those days or weeks require something small, focused, and a touch mindless, even if just for a little while.
While I am always grateful for times of growth like this, it is hard. And draining. So what did I do today? After I got dressed and walked the dogs, somehow I wound up in our hallway facing my bookshelves. For the next couple hours, I sorted and purged. I organized, alphabetized, puttered, and shifted. The biggest questions I had to face were, “will I want to read this again?” and “if so, can I do it easily online or through the library?” Done and done. A couple books I kept for purely sentimental reasons beyond my read-it-again criteria, but by and large, the sentimental and the read-it-again columns neatly matched. And it was so. very. satisfying. I now have a few stacks of well-loved YA fiction to pass along to my niece and nephew, and still more to donate to the local library book sale, or to sprinkle into the little free libraries in my neighborhood. I now have no recent additions leaning haphazardly here and there for lack of space, and perhaps the best part — I had a couple hours of very Zen focus on a single enjoyable, achievable task.
This afternoon I’m feeling a little less frazzled, a little more calm, and a little more even-keeled than I have in a few weeks. For the anxious overthinker in me, that is a huge win. Big questions are good to grapple with, but sometimes we need small things to give ourselves time to rest in between. What kind of little win can you gift to yourself this weekend? May I suggest a bit of decluttering or organizing? For me, at least, this little thing felt big — in the best way.
Travel is looking very different — or nonexistent — for a lot of us these days. A few weeks ago I had the pleasure of visiting a dear friend in Washington, and we explored the little towns of the Olympic Peninsula by day and cozied up to watch movies by night. Paired with slow, quiet mornings, cup of tea in hand, it was the perfect foray back into travel, sans crowds or stress.
Unlike Southern California, where most cities sort of bleed into each other as you drive, there are trees and greenery aplenty in between each town in this area of Washington. You can travel a relatively short distance and feel like you have traveled far and wide, as each town has it’s own character, quirks, and charms. Puget Sound is quietly omnipresent everywhere you go, a stunning blue-grey backdrop that is integrated into daily life in a way that fascinated me. Residents here will see it, have to go around it, over it, or through it every day. It made me reflect on “life on the water” in a new way, one very different from my youth living in San Diego not far from the beach. It’s not a spot to visit here, but part of the fabric of every day.
Little Manchester with its lovely views, the historic buildings of Port Townsend, the Scandinavian charm of Poulsbo, the windswept beaches near the Kingston ferry — I loved my time in Washington. If you’re looking for a place in unwind, explore, and spread your post-lockdown wings a little, maybe find a waterfront cottage on Airbnb and take in the serene charms of the Olympic Peninsula for a few days. Whatever you do, make sure to visit the bakery in Poulsbo. Trust. I could have cried at finding the bread I remember eating as a kid, best served toasted. Also perhaps the best apple strudel I have had in my entire life.
If you aren’t convinced yet, here is a smattering of photos from my visit. Enjoy!
Thank you so much, B, for being the best host and companion. Much love.
Welcome to June, and happy Pride month to all LGBTQIA+ folx. I see you, and I am sending you love. If you are out and proud, I see you. If you are closeted, I see you. If you are transitioning, I see you. If you are struggling to define yourself, I see you. This month is all about you and your freedom, your rights, your visibility, your love, and your being. You have a place. You don’t have to shrink away to better “fit in.” Your place is wherever you want or need to be.
Pridefinderis a handy-dandy resource to help you find in-person and virtual pride events all around the globe. The IGLTA also has a global gay pride calendar, both equally useful if you’d like to travel or find an event locally.
In need of some underthings? Savage X Fenty is offering a Pride capsule collection that walks the walk. The collection was shot in Los Angeles entirely with individuals from the LGBTQ community, both in front of and behind the camera. They offer an inclusive size range of 30A-42H and XS-3X as well as small to XXXL, and a portion of the collection’s proceeds benefit five different organizations, including GLAAD. Yes and please!
If you’re in LA, the ONE Archives Foundation opens its “Pride Publics: Words and Actions” outdoor exhibition tomorrow! Free and accessible outdoor installations and a digital guide examine the intersections between pride and publicness, Expertly curated by multi-hyphenate Rubén Esparza, “the exhibition will examine themes central to queer public life and highlight trailblazers and their visions.”
I stalked her in the grocery store: her crown of snowy braids held in place by a great silver clip, her erect bearing, radiating tenderness, watching the way she placed yogurt and avocados in her basket, beaming peace like the North Star. I wanted to ask, “What aisle did you find your serenity in, do you know how to be married for fifty years or how to live alone, excuse me for interrupting, but you seem to possess some knowledge that makes the earth turn and burn on its axis—” But we don’t request such things from strangers nowadays. So I said, “I love your hair.”
I stumbled across this beautiful poem by Alison Luterman recently, and it resonated with me so much. The delicate admiration of one woman for another, for youth to the grace of age-won wisdom — it is a luminous meditation of a small moment in time that left me thoughtful and uplifted. May you also find a sweet, pensive state of grace this week.
It’s beautiful and sunny, and I blinked hard at the rays of sunlight as I emerged from our home to walk the dogs this morning. It felt like a perfect encapsulation of my state of mind right now. This week the CDC updated guidelines to the following: “Fully vaccinated people no longer need to wear a mask or physically distance in any setting, except where required by federal, state, local, tribal, or territorial laws, rules, and regulations, including local business and workplace guidance .”
I feel a bit like a mole emerging into the sunshine. Last week I had dinner out twice with friends, all of us vaccinated, all of us grateful. I was drained afterwards, no longer entirely used to “normal” things like socializing or the energy it requires of me, a dyed-in-the-wool introvert. And I booked my first plane ticket in a year and a half. It was thrilling.
Now I am cautious and hopeful, still reflexively putting my mask on. Slipping it off outdoors yesterday evening felt sort of reckless, to be honest. Freeing. Like stepping into sunlight. I’m metaphorically (and literally) blinking at the dazzling outside-ness, and the widening possibilities. Mentally gathering myself to move out of hibernation. Girding my loins to re-enter the world. I want to do it with my eyes wide open. It’s springtime, it’s a new beginning, and I want to welcome in the light.
This weekend is Mother’s Day. It is a time to celebrate motherhood, yes. But it is also a very complicated holiday. “Mother’s Day celebrates a huge lie about the value of women: that mothers are superior beings, that they have done more with their lives and chosen a more difficult path.“ The lovely Ann Lamott expresses this complexity with beautiful candor, and her words got me thinking: I love my mom dearly. She is still alive to celebrate with, and I am lucky to have had a happy childhood. Also I have chosen to remain childfree. I feel like Mother’s Day is a holiday that is about my mother and not me, but maybe there is room for the aunt-ing and pet parenting and mother-hen-ing of friends I do, too? Regardless of how I eventually answer that question, I have enormous compassion for the day’s complications, and the women who bear them gracefully, silently, and with a certain amount of internal rage or sadness. I see you if you’ve lost your mother. If you are estranged from your mother or your children. If you have a difficult parent/child relationship. If you’ve lost a child. If you’ve yearned for children and cannot have them. If you have children and yearn some days for something different. There is nothing wrong with perhaps wishing for a solo glass of champagne instead of shepherding a crowd of kids and moms-in-law et. al. to IHOP when you don’t even like pancakes. I see you all, and I’m sending you love.
For a little enjoyment this weekend, here are a few things to make/buy/watch/savor:
This delightful tote is perfectly French and effortless. Wear it all spring and summer on your breeziest of weekends.
For some light and easy sweetness, may I recommend Julia Turshen’s Afternoon Cake? I make this regularly and it could not be simpler or more satisfying. Just use the nut flour of your choice (I like almond flour) instead of finely grinding your own nuts to make it even quicker. Makes one perfect olive oil cake, citrusy and not too sweet, to enjoy for any reason — or no reason at all.
I am deeply inspired by this “secret” antique revival trend spotted by Caitlin over on stylebyemilyhenderson. Mixing old and new is right up my alley, and the color and pattern combinations are swoon-worthy. It makes me extra-happy to have my childhood wood dresser mixed into our living room decor! Also I may or may not have my eye on some vintage nightstands…
And finally, I’ll leave you with the cutest video I saw all week, a stealthy otter worthy of his own spy film franchise. Because otters! Happy weekend, friends.