The Sunday Review: Rosie the Riveter Edition

Hello, lovelies.

It was a rough winter; I didn’t realize how much of a hermit I’d turned into until the weather got nice and I started spending most of my day outside again. I’m going to try to make the weekly roundup a thing again, although I’ve said that before! Let me know in the comments or with the like button if you’re enjoying these, as that’s prime motivation to keep it happening.

1. Flight of whimsy. I bought a plane ticket to go to Hong Kong in September. By myself. For a week. This terrifies me, because it’s adventurous, impractical, and falls solidly in the “things I don’t do” category.

2. #metoo Amanda Palmer and Jasmine Power dropped a new song, Mr. Weinstein Will See You Now. It didn’t hit me nearly as hard as I thought it would, and I’m ok with that.

3. Black is the new green. After six months of feeling guilty every time I put vegetable peels and leftover food in the trash, I bought a compost tumbler. The last one took me six weeks to put together, this one took three hours. Now on my wishlist for the holidays: a proper cordless drill.

Picture of half-built compost tumbler.

4. Not a box. Z has been asking me to take her rock climbing for months. I got the gear during the big REI sale, then went to the gym and took the “intro class” so I could belay her. When I took her a few days later, she went straight for the bouldering section and proceeded to climb up and down the “ladder” for an hour. It felt eerily like spending lots of money on a birthday gift that your child ignores in favor of the box.

5. One of the trees in the back turned out to be a plum tree, and they are thisclose to ripe. Who’s got plum recipes?

Photo of almost ripe plums.

Links and Things

This article solidifies my cynicism around donating money to political campaigns: What Happened to Jill Stein’s Recount Millions. As someone who donated a measly $5, I’d like an answer.

I learned to take photos on my dad’s old Canon, which just sold its last film camera. I still miss the magic of immersing the photo paper in the developer and watching the picture appear (less so wrangling the film into the spool in the dark).

A tongue-in-cheek and a more useful guide to indoor plants.

I did what everyone’s saying you should do and read (ok, skimmed) the most recent “we’ve updated our privacy policy” email I received and what do you know, it had two helpful links for opting out of online ads.

If on a winter’s night…

I am standing on the corner of Park and the wind blows through my coat like it is nothing. Like I am nothing.

I get home and begin to shed layers, shed this winter-girl-snake-skin: scarf, gloves, hat, coat, blazer, socks, leggings.

The sun comes in my window an extra hour now. It is not enough.

Underneath the lawn by the Binnenhof in Den Haag, the crocus and the daffodils are whispering to each other, asking if it’s time yet, if it’s time yet, is it time?

The tulips, clutching their finery tightly about themselves, whisper back, “Soon.”