A month ago, my younger brother posted on Facebook about a book series he was reading. “Assigning my book-series-of-the-year award to The Rosie Project and its two sequels, which somehow keep getting better. This series has done more to help me come to terms with my autistic dimensions than all the therapy I’ve ever had, combined.”
Well. My parents read the book, of course, and then they ordered two copies, one for my other brother and one for me.
I got about six chapters in and was loving it so much that I just had to tell my husband about it. I tried to explain the plot and all the funny things, but then I stopped short. “Let me just read it to you. Can I read it to you? Please?” My husband said sure, in his I’m-enduring tone, and I flipped back to start at the beginning. One chapter down, he allowed me to keep going. Two chapters down, he nodded for more.
he folds laundry, I read
That weekend we read that book around the clock: after breakfast, on the porch with our afternoon coffees, at bedtime. Partway through, I realized that I’d better get the next ones, so I quick ordered them. Now we’re deep into the second one in the series.
The book feels like a cross between The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime and A Man Called Ove. The dry humor is hilarious, the insights are surprising and unique, and the characters’ gorgeous humanity shines though with palpable warmth.
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Last week I stopped to get gas when I was out running errands with my younger son. As we pulled into the gas station I said, “The tank’s on the left, right?” (Our van’s tank was on the left and the little car’s tank was on the right, so it’s always been a mental exercise to figure out which side of the pump to pull up to.) My son said, “There’s an arrow by the gas tank on your dashboard telling you which side the tank is on,” and my mind exploded a little.
And then I opened the tank and began pumping gas and my son said, “Don’t let the lid dangle; it’ll scratch up the car. You’re supposed to loop it over this hook.” And then he reached around me and demonstrated.
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If you have old-fashioned tins to hold sugar, flour, and such, there’s a high probability that prying off the lid requires a combination of arm and fingertip strength that may often turn you a bit red in the face and cause you to hurl the canister at the closest human and bark, “Open the dang thing for me.” At least that’s how it goes for me.
But then one time a long time ago (I’ve been meaning to tell you this for years now) my husband saw me struggling with the sugar tin and said, “You know there’s a solution, right?” And then he tore off a piece of waxed paper and rubbed it all over the part of the lid that always stuck against the canister. And just like that, the lid slipped on and off, no red ragey face required.
The wax lasts for a few weeks, maybe months, before a fresh coat is required. Amazing, no?
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Let’s (briefly) talk movies.
1. We finally got around to watching Origin, the movie based on the “Caste” book, my favorite read of 2020. After it was over, my first response was, “Wow, what a good book,” even though it was a movie. Because since the movie was all about the writing of the book, it made me feel like I had just read the book — how’s that for a cool trick! (Just minutes into the movie, when he learned that it was based on a book, my younger son downloaded the audio version from Libby, and then he spent the next week engrossed in “reading” it.)
2. Last weekend’s family night movie was American Fiction.
Funny and cutting, I got a kick out of it and it gave me stuff to think about.
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Wanna know something that’s always bugged me? Mainstream how-to-cope-with-hot-weather advice. Don’t go outside, they say. Hydrate, they say. Stay in the air conditioning. Their advice is so logical and obvious, it feels patronizing. Also, pretty darn unhelpful. What about people who don’t have air conditioned homes? What about people who, like my husband, have a profession that requires them to be outside all day long?
Besides, it’s only gonna get hotter. What are we all supposed to do? Just sequester ourselves away for the rest of eternity? Who’s gonna grow the food? Who’s gonna cook it? Who’s gonna build the houses and fix the roads and tend the animals? Are we all gonna turn into lumpies (cool lumpies) sitting on our couches for half the year, too scared of breaking a sweat to go outside and smell the flowers?
During peak summer, we switched our 2:00 pm game to 5:30 pm.
We’re not gluttons for punishment.
So last month when the NY Times published an article about adapting to the heat, I cheered. Here for the first time was practical advice:
- When exposed to heat for a long stretch of time, your body will gradually adapt.
- Being exposed to extreme heat without first allowing the body to adapt can result in feeling punk. Also death. But this doesn’t mean you have to stay out of the heat!!!!
- To acclimate to the heat, gradually increase your physical activity in a hot setting over the course of two weeks until you can comfortably work/exercise for your target amount of time. For me, this means being able to walk four miles, or play Ultimate for a couple hours, or spend a whole day working over a hot stove in a hot house.
- For employees, there’s an official formula that involves increasing heat exposure by 20% every day.
- In extreme heat, drink one cup of water every 15 minutes.
- Don’t wait for a heatwave to acclimate. Once hot weather hits, begin to get acclimated right away so that you can better endure the temperature spikes.
- Heat adaptation lasts as long as you use it. After one week of not being in the heat, your body begins to lose the acclimatization it gained, and after one month of not being exposed to the heat, it returns to baseline.
It’s supposed to reach almost 100°F tomorrow. This spike comes after a full week of deliciously cool temps, so any heat acclimation I gained over the summer is already fast fading and means that tomorrow will probably be a harder day, physically, for me than the peak summer heat because my body is not currently acclimated.
However! I did walk a few miles over the hot noon hour yesterday, so that may improve my ability to cope with the heat and enjoy tomorrow night’s sweaty Ultimate game.
At least I hope it will.
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The other week when I was recuperating from that wicked stomach bug, I had a number of days without much of an appetite. (I know. Jennifer without an appetite is a little like saying the ocean has no water: inconceivable.) But then one evening I got a fierce hankering to eat something — but what? After a bit of pondering, I finally landed on it: rice with lemon (lime) pepper. So I fixed myself a bowl of steaming rice with a huge pat of butter and tons of lime pepper. It was divine.
But then I wanted something. . . more. Protein! I popped open a can of tuna and flaked in the meat. Boy oh boy, did that ever hit the spot.
The more I’ve thought about (and eaten) that meal since then, the more I realized that it’s perfect — as a snack, as a late night supper, as an emergency meal. How have I gone nearly half my life without eating this? Younger me was seriously missing out.
Rice with Tuna
White rice, cooked
Tuna, drained
Butter, lots of it
Lemon or lime pepper
Toss the hot rice with flaked tuna. Stir in lots of butter. Add some more butter. Shower the rice and tuna with lime pepper. Top with a dollop of butter. Eat.
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For all you women who are in menopause, or fast approaching menopause, or have gone through menopause — in other words, ALL y’all women — listen up. A couple months ago, I scored an interview with an actual menopause doctor — a practitioner and a researcher. We talked for nearly an hour (an hour in which I struggled to stay afloat in the tsunami of science), and then I spent hours crafting our conversation into a readable interview, followed by even more hours editing (with my mom’s help, thank you, Mom!), and then even more hours making the doctor’s final edits. The interview is long. When it pops up in your feed in the next few days, get comfy. I am so excited for you to “meet” this expert.
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This same time, years previous: on eating meat, no-hands mozzarella, four fun things, sixteen miles, the quotidian (8.26.19), the quotidian (8.27.18), a big deal, on love and leftovers, peach crisp, atop the ruins, 16, slightly obsessed.
