+ logged off Instagram for the month. Didn’t miss it? Honestly don’t know if I’ll log back in tomorrow? Managed to read every New Yorker before the next week’s arrived. Fell in love with blogging again (hi). Spent odd moments over a few days cutting a Gotham alphabet set from rubber scraps in my carving drawer.
+ made a copycat batch of Levain’s double chocolate chip from this recipe and immediately thereafter set about rehoming the majority of them because left to myself I would have eaten every. last. one. I’ve never actually been to Levain ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ so I’m none the wiser as to how good the original may be or how subpar these turned out in comparison, but basically they were top-notch bakery beautiful with the most exquisitely light crumb and I would have zero qualms presenting a plate of them to Mary Berry. (I made my batch closer to normal-cookie size: used a heaping tablespoon to scoop the dough, then chilled for half the recommended time, and baked for 8 minutes. Made just about three dozen, that way.)
+ spent one glorious week of the new year with my sisters. JWM took this group shot us just a few hours before Naomi boarded her plane back home and it is my favorite forever, capturing so much of what that time was — cozied up inside while the bomb cyclone froze the city over, babes in arms, skin glowy with the latest products palmed from each other’s makeup bags.
+ at one point last week we discovered JWM had 73 tabs open on his phone. SEVENTY-THREE.
+ my book group has been reading articles instead of trying to cover a couple hundred pages over the hectic holiday months, and I’ve really loved the way it’s shaped our gatherings. For starters, a whole bunch more people show up, but it’s also been a really wonderful way to have meaningful, relevant conversation with women I love about current events and eternal truths. In January we hit some especially heavy stuff (beginning with this longform piece I read last spring and still can’t shake), but ended with Maria Popova’s Reflection on Living Through Turbulent Times, which made me weep. If I were to write up a semester’s syllabus as we embark on 2018, this would be required reading.
+ we’ve been trying to get Imo interested in solids via Baby-Led Weaning — an approach that seemed like a good bet, given the kid’s proclivity for touching anything within wingspan and then gumming everything she can grab. So of course the first time we gave her a carrot she literally held it at arm’s length, mashed it between her fingers and then looked at us eyebrows raised like, “I really hope you didn’t spend actual money on this toy — it’s rubbish!” It’s mostly been more of the same since. Today she looked down at her tray of butternut squash with what can only be described as resigned ennui.
+ finally finally bought myself a five year line-a-day diary and it’s all the good things everyone’s been telling me. I have this one, which I bought for being clothbound and cover-blank, and was delighted to find the inside equally aesthetically pleasing, with blue-ruled pages and a straightforward serif denoting the date. I will buy them forever.
+ went on our first for reals date night out since Imogen was born. Stand-up’s not really our thing but Paula Poundstone very much is and we laughed and laughed and laughed from our nosebleed highest rafter seats at the Merriam (she did a bit about Bed Bath & Beyond coupons that had me in tears) and shared McDonald’s ice cream on the walk home through the city and it had rained while we were inside and was sixty-two degrees and sign me up for spring, please.
+ my dad returned to Piura, Peru with his non-profit Alliance for International Medicine, which provides surgical and anesthesia equipment, training, and medical care in developing countries. They had a great trip full of meaningful work and outsize adventure, but also I’m just not over the way the hospital was tiled in perfect coordinate with their scrubs.
+ January’s been maybe the best month of residency ever so far, ten whole days right in the middle with JWM on an elective rotation (wherein he may elect to drop in on a service/doctor/proceedure of his choosing or … perhaps work on research from home). We were spoiled rotten to have him around so often and made the most of long-overdue museum runs, brisk family walks, and eating dinner before 9:00. Every morning now I pick Imo up and she immediately pops her head over my shoulder, hoping she’ll see her dad down the hallway. Saddest/sweetest thing in the world. I love love love my people.
(p.s.) this week’s New Yorker just completely knocked it out of the park. The Lost Giant of American Literature, A Prison Film Made in Prison, this Danh Vo profile, talking The Power of the Literary Pun in reviewing Ali Smith’s “Winter”. !!!!!