The news was so shit this week I had a minor mental breakdown last night. Then I woke up to this newsletter that perfectly encapsulates everything I’m feeling. I didn’t need a laugh this week; I needed catharsis. Thank you for this and for all your writing. I feel less alone when I read your newsletter.
Even in the bleakest of bleak weeks, this newsletter is something to look forward to. Also I just took a whiff and that candle smells like it "makes half the dinners" by grilling out once a week in the summer.
That candle has more of a comment than a question. (And also: my rage at the state of the world--and at the president of the university where I teach who called the NYPD on student protesters, way to go, Linda Mills, head of the "global university"-- anyway, I'm rage planting. Spent way more than I can afford at the farmer's market on plants and have been ferociously potting them for my little balcony. So now I can also blame the governement on wrecking my budget)
Yesterday, one of my son's coworkers called out, "I'm probably going to be arrested at a protest today." I don't even know her but I'm proud of her. "Tin soldiers and Nixon coming, we're finally on our own. This summer I hear the drumming...."
Chin up Lyz. At some level it can feel like you’re carrying the burdens alone. There’s no “but.” “And” your substack newsletter impacts many, many people and sometimes you give us an idea or a laugh, but always inspiration. That’s more goodness shared than any church I ever sat in. I really hope my three daughters grow up to have your courage, humanity and tenacity. Peace.
In May of 1970 I was a graduate student at Kent State University. I have grand daughters, one a college senior, the other soon to matriculate. Today I wrote to each of them: What happened in Ohio on 4 May 1970 has colored the whole of my life. You are of the same age as those who died that day. Yes I am conflicted when it comes to your right to speak about injustice.
Dear Lyz: there will be days and weeks like this one, but your fans and supporters love you through it. You are a bright spot for many of us - speaking and validating our thoughts. Even when you are exhausted and angry, you are an inspiration. It will pass, you will remain. Xoxoxox
That candle smells like the contractor who, when I pointed out the window wouldn't work there (I could tell that the eaves were too low to allow the window,) he practically winked at me and told me to follow him inside, saying he'll show me how it will work. (Then inside he was amazed that I was right.)
My countertop ice maker is one of my most favorite things ever. I honestly think it keeps me a little less furious at the world, a little less frustrated with the state of things. And when I get home today, I am absolutely making coconut water lemonade with rum. Happy Friday, Lyz. We are all gonna hang in there right along with you.
The good ice maker is one of the nicest things we've gotten in the last several years. We adore ours. Sometimes something as simple as the good ice really does make it easier to keep going!
I'm Gen X, and my husband and I (raising a Gen Alpha) are both of the mindset that any time Gen Z is pissed off and ready to protest and shake the world (like after Parkland)? Go get 'em, kids. We have bail money if you need it, and we'll help you make the signs.
I’m avoiding talking about the hard stuff right now because I am having major stress dreams where my teeth fall out (final master’s capstone due next week) and last night I had a dream where I had all this gum in my mouth that stuck to my teeth and throat and it was just neverending pulling it out of my mouth and it never stopped and OMG, ugh. ANYWAY, I love that everyone knows what “good ice” is. Growing up Sorrento’s pizza in Arbutus had the Good Ice. Now, the Store At The End of the Road has it. Good ice is a valuable commodity when you just need a simple pleasure.
That candle just listened to a podcast and is now an expert on the subject
The news was so shit this week I had a minor mental breakdown last night. Then I woke up to this newsletter that perfectly encapsulates everything I’m feeling. I didn’t need a laugh this week; I needed catharsis. Thank you for this and for all your writing. I feel less alone when I read your newsletter.
Even in the bleakest of bleak weeks, this newsletter is something to look forward to. Also I just took a whiff and that candle smells like it "makes half the dinners" by grilling out once a week in the summer.
That candle has more of a comment than a question. (And also: my rage at the state of the world--and at the president of the university where I teach who called the NYPD on student protesters, way to go, Linda Mills, head of the "global university"-- anyway, I'm rage planting. Spent way more than I can afford at the farmer's market on plants and have been ferociously potting them for my little balcony. So now I can also blame the governement on wrecking my budget)
This candle smells like disdain because “everybody gets a trophy”
This candle smells like confusion because rappers can say that word but it can’t
This candle smells like it knows a better way to get there than a phone that literally knows every street in the world.
This candle smells like it never really knows if cargo shorts are in style or not
That candle is going to be half off soon, and it will protest that women need to settle on bargain bin candles to save democracy.
That candle smells like it hasn't washed its sheets in months.
Yesterday, one of my son's coworkers called out, "I'm probably going to be arrested at a protest today." I don't even know her but I'm proud of her. "Tin soldiers and Nixon coming, we're finally on our own. This summer I hear the drumming...."
Chin up Lyz. At some level it can feel like you’re carrying the burdens alone. There’s no “but.” “And” your substack newsletter impacts many, many people and sometimes you give us an idea or a laugh, but always inspiration. That’s more goodness shared than any church I ever sat in. I really hope my three daughters grow up to have your courage, humanity and tenacity. Peace.
In May of 1970 I was a graduate student at Kent State University. I have grand daughters, one a college senior, the other soon to matriculate. Today I wrote to each of them: What happened in Ohio on 4 May 1970 has colored the whole of my life. You are of the same age as those who died that day. Yes I am conflicted when it comes to your right to speak about injustice.
Dear Lyz: there will be days and weeks like this one, but your fans and supporters love you through it. You are a bright spot for many of us - speaking and validating our thoughts. Even when you are exhausted and angry, you are an inspiration. It will pass, you will remain. Xoxoxox
came here just to drop a "not all candles" 😅
That candle smells like the contractor who, when I pointed out the window wouldn't work there (I could tell that the eaves were too low to allow the window,) he practically winked at me and told me to follow him inside, saying he'll show me how it will work. (Then inside he was amazed that I was right.)
My countertop ice maker is one of my most favorite things ever. I honestly think it keeps me a little less furious at the world, a little less frustrated with the state of things. And when I get home today, I am absolutely making coconut water lemonade with rum. Happy Friday, Lyz. We are all gonna hang in there right along with you.
The good ice maker is one of the nicest things we've gotten in the last several years. We adore ours. Sometimes something as simple as the good ice really does make it easier to keep going!
I'm Gen X, and my husband and I (raising a Gen Alpha) are both of the mindset that any time Gen Z is pissed off and ready to protest and shake the world (like after Parkland)? Go get 'em, kids. We have bail money if you need it, and we'll help you make the signs.
I’m avoiding talking about the hard stuff right now because I am having major stress dreams where my teeth fall out (final master’s capstone due next week) and last night I had a dream where I had all this gum in my mouth that stuck to my teeth and throat and it was just neverending pulling it out of my mouth and it never stopped and OMG, ugh. ANYWAY, I love that everyone knows what “good ice” is. Growing up Sorrento’s pizza in Arbutus had the Good Ice. Now, the Store At The End of the Road has it. Good ice is a valuable commodity when you just need a simple pleasure.