Friday Lunch Special: Memory, Yelling in the Bathroom, Bridgerton is Back, and Dreams!

It's a little bit of everything!

Welcome to another edition of Friday Lunch Special. Once upon a time I was a girl who wrote long, winding, heartfelt captions on Instagram. Now I’m a girl who has Instagram blocked on my phone for most of the day, and I use it primarily for IRL connection and sharing this newsletter. As you may know, I try to write every day. Most of the time, what I’m writing isn’t in any state to see your inbox, but some of the time there are tidbits that I like. Those bits and bobs will live here, along with some recommendations and links. Friday Lunch Special is a little bit of everything. I hope you enjoy!

P.S. Check out past issues here: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05

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Memory

I remember the unwrapping of some foil on some underwhelming breakfast tacos that I ate at an event I shot a month or so ago. The memory is visceral. I can almost smell them. The event itself made me feel a bit like a rock star, it was my first big job back to freelancing, but I don’t really remember how that made me feel as much as I remember that the tortillas stuck to the foil a little more than normal, and the fact that I was worried that my hands would stick to them in a way I wouldn’t enjoy. I remember going back to get salsa because I’d forgotten it and realizing that in the 3 minutes since I had picked up my tacos initially, someone had swooped in and restocked the Topo Chicos. When I got back to my seat with my tacos, they’d firmed up a little on the outside and they didn’t in fact stick to my fingers at all. I ate them quickly and got back to work.

I remember the way the sunlight hit the shower walls after I had a panic attack a couple months ago. In the calm-brain-stillness-after-the-storm (coincidentally brought on by the threat of another tornado in our area) the light danced and made shadows across the shampoo and conditioner bottles. I felt okay again, after a few days of feeling off. I remember that this particular light made the usually pink shampoo bottle look almost orange in some places, and I saw it as if I had never seen it before.

I don’t remember much of my wedding day because I was totally overwhelmed. Through photos I can put a timeline together of the events of how everything unfolded. I don’t remember ever speaking to my mother though I’m sure I did. The biggest memory of the day, and the memory I like to bring out at parties after saying something along the lines of “I was a child bride!” is this: I am in my dress, veil on, ready to go. My father has my arm and has begun to cry, but pulls it together. He looks at me, tells me I look beautiful, and asks me if I’m sure. I tell him I am and we begin our walk, which starts in the deserted section of the venue where all the empty tables for dining and conversing later are situated. We round the corner, and I am totally in shock. After a morning with my closest friends and family, and after already seeing Tucker, I forget that there are going to be other people present at my nuptials. I forget that there’s going to be a crowd. I don’t remember that there are going to be 200 people there to see me get married. In the photos from the day I am laughing like an idiot. Even in the retelling it feels so absurd to forget that other people would be present for my wedding. The rest of the day is a blur of many small memorable things- egg rolls, instax photos with things like “first wife pic” scrawled on them, both of us giggling like we pulled of a heist by convincing everyone to let us get married at 21, a photo of Doc Watson next to a photo of my Grandfather in memory, driving away in a Subaru outback and forgetting all my stuff at the venue.

Yelling in The Bathroom

I think what I want you to know, what I want to pleasantly yell at you in a bathroom after a night of too many margaritas is this: I don’t think anyone knows what the fuck they’re doing for more than a short while. Everyone feels unmoored, probably most of the time. Some days we toil away at our computers, trying to remember to drink enough water and see enough sunlight. We all try so hard not to distract ourselves. There’s no manual for this. No one knows what they’re doing. No one knows how to do this. And if they do they’re in the minority. Most everyone is struggling through what it means to be human. We are all tasked with being alive and awake and sometimes that feels like a gift and sometimes the weight of that is so heavy it feels like it will crush your sternum. Every single day we get a chance to try again. Some days you wake up and it’s raining and all you wanted to do was go on a walk and clear your head. Some days you go to bed saying “I can’t believe this is my life, this is so good.” Some days it rains and you still find the sunshine. 

Bridgerton 

When I quit my job a couple of months ago some friends gave us access to their media server and we effectively canceled almost every streaming subscription we had. Television shows would pop up that I was vaguely interested in watching, but most of the time I’d just wait until it was available elsewhere or let it go. I focused my energy and attention on using my movie pass that I pay for every month and getting into film again. I haven’t missed it, to be honest.

That is until yesterday, after a long Netflix hiatus I reactivated my account. Why, dear reader? Because it was Bridgerton day. Say what you want about the pulpy, smutty romance show, but each and every season I am dazzled by the spectacle of it. It is addictive every time and this season is no exception. My spoiler free review of the first four episodes of season three is as follows:

Colin Bridgerton in Regency workwear is hot! Hot air balloons have never been sexier. Lord Debling is a vegetarian which makes his character more attractive. Be prepared to spend every moment of the first two episodes wondering who is queer and picking up lots of signals that everyone could be. Will and Alice Mondrich deserve the world. So does Lady Bridgerton. What if we made out in the back of a carriage? 

Dreams

When I was younger I never dreamed of being a pop star or of being rich and famous. I rarely imagined myself out of teendom because I was so afraid of dying, but in the brief glimpses of what I hoped adulthood would be like there were some themes: a personal library full of books, space to think, fabulous dinners, a husband who liked sitting around and talking to me over coffee (the most adult beverage) and getting to go on airplanes. There was a house that I owned where I could let all my friends sleep over, where I would throw parties with weird themes, and where I could host touring bands who needed a place to stay. I look around sometimes and I am delighted with the fact that the life I am living existed first in the dreams of a younger me, in the brief moments she allowed herself to think of life in her mid 30s.

Bonus: Reads of the Week

Here’s what I read this week:

• Saving Time by Jenny O’Dell

• Dark Matter by Blake Crouch

• Thirst by Marina Yuszczuk

Bonus: PS!

I started an advice column and all I got was a profound lust for life. Next week I’m answering a question about reading more. If you’d like to submit an anonymous question (DO IT! IT IS SO FUN!) I’d love that.

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