I Like it Here
May 2025 || Birthday reflections and the months' bits and bobs.
Before I begin, could I ask a favor? If there’s anything at all that you find remotely interesting, insightful, or likable in this post, would you mind clicking the heart button on the left above or below this post or even commenting if you’re up for it? This helps my work reach new readers on the Substack platform, which is growing by the second. Thank you!
A week ago, I turned forty-one. We got bagels and coffee close to our former college campus and then spent afternoon hours in the movie theater watching Ethan Hunt do impossible things.1 My nails were all painted shades of lilac just in time to enjoy a family dinner of my favorite burger and fries. Each gift my family gave to me that night was so specific to varying aspects of what make me, me.
Somehow, all of this made me feel younger than forty had.
It might be that most days I don’t see youth in the mirror behind the fading freckles on my cheeks or the lines wearing deeper where I peer out with scarred, blue eyes. My strands rain in rivulets with the saturation turned down, varying shades of silver that I’ve let run their course for over eight years. Now we have friends’ parties to attend, not for their kids’ birthdays, but their high school graduations. There is always some kind of ache felt, whether physical or emotional.
But my birthday’s chosen delights remind me that these years of late have not be a divergence from youth, rather a reclamation of it. Not through potions, procedures, or lofty ambitions in the ways culture might encourage me to, but through paying attention.
There are many things I do now that I didn’t a decade ago.
I didn’t stop for twenty minutes just to watch fledgling robins stare back at me through glass windows, wondering if they know that I am friend.
I didn’t lean over the garden beds for no reason at all, only to be asked by a passing neighbor if I “was telling the plants to grow again?”2
I didn’t buy myself bunches of peonies, wanting the means of their unfurling more than the ends of their fullness — both phases beautiful in their own way.
I didn’t recognize that the frictions of the day and the loss of efficiency are actually what make me feel most fully, humanly alive.
But I do now, and having stepped outside the heavy zero at the end of a beginning, I have to say I really, really like it here.
Another month, another name change to this end section of my monthly newsletter.
The further I got from February, the more I didn’t like the feeling of me telling you what’s worth it. Only you can decide that. Links and the like, I believe, are an open if you do, fine if you don’t kind of thing.
Like forwarded mail, you may need the items that make their way to your next location, but sometimes you don’t. I’ll continue to promise I won’t send along anything that didn’t bring me delight, give me inspiration, or make me think — but feel free to toss it.
I’ve never read Middlemarch by George Eliot, but I’ve thought about it every year since I was a freshman in college when my English professor promised “it would find [me] when I was ready.” I picked up a used copy this week, unexpectedly, realizing I have enough BIG BOOKS under my belt from the last few years and felt ready. I then immediately discovered it’s having a moment on the internet, right now, and haley larsen, phd is hosting a summer-long close read of the novel. Perfect time to start!
We’re getting awfully close to our BIG SUMMER TRIP, and while I’m finalizing the details, I’m also thinking a lot about packing and picking the brains of friends who often travel abroad. Meanwhile, Nicole Gulotta’s travel series, especially these posts on packing carry-on for two weeks and managing your nervous system while traveling were so, so good. Here are a few others I enjoyed: Edinburgh photo spots, UK wear and pack tips, and post-Scotland reflections.
I can’t remember when I last thought I’d attempt Jami Attenberg’s 1000 Words of Summer, but the first two weeks of June are historically not the easiest time for me to write. The kids are home and there are places to be and things to do, and and and. This year, though — starting today — I’m making it happen. My intention is to continue drafting With You Everywhere, which is a book that absolutely feels like summer. Let’s do this!
Yesterday was my 150th straight day of walking. That’s every day so far in 2025, both the best and the crappiest ones. I’m still on the hunt for a new pair of walking shoes and some days I’m still in pajamas that hardly pass for normal clothes, but I’m doing it and learning a lot about consistency in the meantime.
This painting, by Erika Lee Sears, stopped me in my tracks the other day, and I’ve had a lot of fun browsing through her vivid, breathtaking work.
It was a busier month, publishing-wise, than normal for me — but in case you missed it, here’s what I’ve been up to:
That’s all for now, friends!
Thank you for reading,
What a rollicking, wild adventure that movie was - I remained on the edge of my seat the last hour. A fitting end to a series of movies I’ve thoroughly enjoyed.
Our older “Dad Joke” neighbor keeps things light and goofy, always, and I’ve come to appreciate this immensely. Last evening, while on my daily walk, I neared the spot he was presently mowing his yard near the sidewalk. When he saw me, he stopped the machine, threw up his hands in relief, and said “Finally, the second shift is here!”
Happy birthday, Kristine! Love your reflections on aging, and I can definitely relate. Our 40s can feel so liberating!
Happy Birthday Kristine! You're younger and finer than ever to me. Also, well done on walking for 150 days straight. I'm so proud of you!