On mushrooms No one in my family likes mushrooms except for me, but three times now, I’ve picked up a box of pre-sliced mushrooms from the store simply because I wanted them.
I saute them in butter, olive oil, and salt, and then store them in the fridge, ready to add to whatever I want: pizza, piled on top of a savory croissant, scrambled eggs.
They are so luxurious and delicious and cheap that I have to laugh at myself. How is it that I always pick up a big bag of tortilla chips for whatever-they-cost amount, yet I’ve always passed over cheap-and-convenient mushrooms because they somehow felt “extra”?
Not anymore.
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On movies Last weekend, my husband and I watched A Real Pain.
It was beautiful, funny, thoughtful, and raw, and Kieran Culkan is now officially one of my all-time favorite actors. (And then I listened to Terry’s interview with Jesse Eisenberg, the movie’s writer, director, and supporting lead actor, and that made me love the movie, and Culkan, even more.)
One more thing about movies: Thelma. Have you seen it?
My mom raved about it. I finally got around to watching it, and while I wasn’t head over heels — the pacing was slow, the plot predictable — it was definitely good, and I very much recommend it. Here’s why:
How often do you get to see a movie that a) is about an old woman and b) stars an old woman? That’s special.
In the movie, the main character, Thelma, is 93 years old. I figured the actor, June Squibb, was probably about 80, but then I learned that Squibb is 95 years old. NINETY-FREAKING-FIVE YEARS OLD. (That’s now; she was 94 when they filmed the movie.) It was Squibb’s first lead role, and she had a million lines and did all her own stunts* like climbing onto a bed, rolling across it, and then standing up on it. Do you know any 95-year-old women who can do that? Those moves are hard to do at age 50! The bar has been raised, my friends. The bar has been raised.
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On winter For the first time in several years, we’ve had a real winter. There were those three frigid, snow-covered weeks, which I loved, and then we returned to our typical Virginia weather chaos. But at least we’re still getting snow!
Last week, there was an ice storm that blew up out of nowhere, snapping trees and knocking out power for hours (some of our neighbors were out for days), followed by balmy days.
Gladys was born during the ice storm.
Then this week, there was another snow storm that stopped our world for a couple days, followed by rain, wind, and a 60-degree day, and now they’re saying we’ve got another snow storm coming next week.
Imogene was born during the stretch of bitter cold. (Yes, we’re on a Herdman kick.)
I much prefer the unrelenting cold to our typical drunk Virginia weather. At least with the lasting cold, you can relax into it. As it is right now, it’s like living under a wack political administration: you never know what the hell to expect next.
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On endurance I’ve been working at filling my social quota, the gist of which is simply, make people come eat supper with us. Tonight’s the third night in a row that we’ve had people over. Last week, we had people over and/or went somewhere three times, and next week there’s already at least one event, plus a brief out-of-state excursion, on the calendar.
Yes, it’s tiring (as well as fun), but as with any new (or out-of-the-ordinary) practice, the more you do it, the greater your endurance. I’m finding this to be true of hosting. I’m limbering up.
the table is as crowded as it looks
Evenings are when things devolve around here, so stuffing people into them means I wring more out of my day: the daytime is for work and the evening is for socialization. It’s a pretty sweet balance.
On investments Last week I enrolled in an intensive YouTube and business growth course. It was very, very expensive. For days leading up to the decision, I was twisted in knots, wondering if I was being scammed, if it was worth it, if I was being stupid.
the guy who makes it so I can plunge**
Once the decision was made, everything shifted. Within the first 24 hours, the incoming value was staggering. Clearly, the program was not a scam; I hadn’t made a stupid decision. The relief I felt, combined with the high of having taken the plunge, was enormous. Not since college have I invested this much money in myself. It’s quite the rush.
Since starting the course, I’ve been waking up at 4 am and jumping straight into work. I have goals and renewed focus and, as always, so many questions and unknowns.
The difference is that now, for the first time since starting YouTube, I have a team of professionals to mentor and direct me.
It’s incredible.
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*Reportedly, Squibb only used a stunt double once, and that was for when her three-wheeled scooter went around a corner on two wheels. **Cold plunge photos from my second plunge at the end of January.Here’s the first time.
The other day, I listened* to a Fresh Air interview with Derek Thompson, a journalist for The Atlantic, about the loneliness epidemic, except “loneliness” isn’t the right word, Thompson said. Loneliness is defined as the instinct to be around people, but what’s happening now is that people are losing that instinct — that drive — to be with other people. More and more, people are choosing to be alone, preferring an evening at home to going out with friends.
There are a whole lot of reasons for this, and Thompson dug into all of it, but the part that stood out to me had to do with dopamine.
Here, lemme sum up:
We get hits of dopamine when we scroll Instagram and watch funny cat videos.
We also get hits of dopamine when we interact — even briefly — with people in real life.
Dopamine hits are exhausting, and they leave us depleted.
We have a limited reserve of dopamine.
When we make the majority of our “dopamine donations” to screens, we literally do not have the reserves required for human interaction.
We need human interactions in order to be healthy.
The drive to interact is a key component to healthy, vibrant relationships.
If that drive is lacking, then there’s a good chance we’re donating our dopamine to our screens.
Take a dopamine donation audit and adjust accordingly. We need to need each other.
My husband and I are currently facilitating a Sunday School class at our church for young(ish) parents. The topic this past Sunday was play — how we play, the five components of play, how our kids play, etc.
One of the dads said that he classifies fun into two categories. Easy stuff, like watching a movie or eating a brownie, is Type I Fun, while going on a 10-mile hike or writing an essay is Type II Fun. You have to work for Type II Fun, and while it often doesn’t feel like bubbles and sunshine in the moment, in the end, it’s rewarding in a way that a movie or brownie can never be.
So often, I flit along, skimming the surface, reaching for the Type I Fun, but it isn’t until I dig deeper and spend a couple hours on a writing project, testing a new recipe, going for a run, or reading a book that I actually feel satisfied. The two types of fun are, I think, another way to think about dopamine. With Type I Fun, we use up, or fritter away, our dopamine donations, hardly without even noticing. With Type II Fun, we make the donations.
This week, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about dopamine, the political shitshow, my social media usage, and my relationships. Mostly, I’m trying to be aware of what’s giving me an emotional rush — is it Type I or Type II Fun? is it a Facebook video or a conversation with a friend? — and I’ve been making an effort to get more of my dopamine hits via Type II Fun and real-life connections.
Some of my efforts are super small, like simply taking out my earbuds at work so I can be available to chat with a coworker, sending a check-in text to a friend, or picking up a pizza for the dentist office staff. And some are slightly more involved, like going out for cocktails with my husband (when I snapped these two photos), inviting friends over for pizza, signing up to take supper to some new parents, or driving across the county to drink tea with a girlfriend.
And you know what? I’ve noticed that the more time I invest in Type II fun and in-person connections, the less time I spend doping on screens.
Interesting, that.
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*Full disclosure: I listened to the podcast while at work. With headphones.
