Me wondering how to organize a fully remote workplace:

Me thinking about the company’s mandated AI use and everything else going on in the world:

Words + Projects + Stuff I Like
This seems fitting for all work on the house lately. Those last couple lines!
Domesticity
by Catherine Pierce
Sometimes everything hurts with how desperately
I love it, and I do mean desperately. Like I want
to hold tight to every tender object, the gifted rock,
the basketball sneakers. Everywhere, piles
of undone, the tangle of should and will and want.
So many hours blurred to the necessity of sleep,
and how is any corner supposed to stay uncobwebbed
when also I need to consider mortality, love
the word gloaming, tweeze a tick from behind a knee?
How am I supposed to keep safe everyone
in this house while holding open the door
and saying have fun, make good choices, know the world?
Outside the wind has kicked up and the trees shush
even the leaf blowers. The hunger in my chest
could nearly lift me off the ground. Once I thought
domesticity was a gentle trap, a bed soft with quicksand.
Now I know it is a wild place, toothed and flowering.
Unnavigable, and not for the tenderhearted.
At this point in my life, I like what I like and I have enough of a blog record to prove it. Case in point: Colorful stripey fabrics and big pants, as discussed in 2019 / made a few weeks ago.
I took Sunday afternoon off from garage work and hid from 109 degree heat (!) in the basement, sewing up another pair of Elizabeth Suzann Florence Pants (lengthened by 4 inches again; I also upgraded my pocket addition to be anchored in the waistband and they’re so much nicer). The fabric is a Kaffe Fassett stripe from Harmony and the colors are so good.
Lots of garage progress this weekend: I finished priming and then my brother and nephew came up with the 4,000 psi! gas!! pressure washer!!! to get the floor clean prior to painting that.
I can’t get over how nice and clean it looks now. This week I’ll do actual wall paint (with lots of drop cloths) and hopefully I can do the floors next weekend, so we can all start parking inside again.
1. I think I can get the primer finished in the garage by tomorrow so we can pressure wash the concrete Sunday, but in the meantime I’ll be thinking about the entirely-offline “Summer of Ludd” festival that happened in NYC.
2. I’ll also be pondering if I can find a religious leader to give me an AI-use exemption, because it worked for this lady.
3. I’ve never seen anything more compelling in my life
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What Science Knows About Grief, by music writer Amanda Petrusich, is a long piece in the New Yorker about, well, what science knows about grief.
Petrusich lost her husband suddenly and unexpectedly so there are passages talking about dealing with the aftermath, from finances to well-meaning friends:
I got very good at sensing when the heft and finality of the loss was making someone uncomfortable. I found this both relatable (I surely wouldn’t have known what to say, either) and alienating. Grief can’t be “fixed”—death is famously irreversible—so conversations about it require both parties to abandon problem-solving and accept a kind of unpleasant stasis. When well-intentioned friends or colleagues asked me how I was doing, I felt dread. What I wanted to say was This feels exactly as bad as you think it feels. What I usually said was Yeah, I’m O.K.
There’s also the science promised in the title, which is fascinating–covering everything from giving grief a clinical diagnosis to experimental drugs to EMDR therapy–but the concept that interested me most was “two-person neuroscience”:
When I asked [Katherine] Shear [founder and director of the Columbia Center for Prolonged Grief] about the biological aftermath of grief, she brought up two-person neuroscience, an emerging discipline that studies how our brains affect other brains. “Our closest relationships, especially when we’re living together—in particular, when we’re living together—have an impact on our immune system, our cardiovascular system, our sleep, our eating, probably the whole body,” she said. “I think we have to understand what happens, neurologically, when we’re with someone to really understand what happens when we lose them.”
There was another 1.5 hour meeting at work yesterday about using AI “because other agencies will be.” I am not a CEO but I have worked in advertising for 20 years and surely there’s a way we could brand ourselves as a “human-first” agency and go the other direction? No, we’re going all-in on AI instead?
Too bad AI is a loser machine, as posited in this essay is by Garrett Bucks–“You will never win at AI.”
We should say it loudly and proudly and at every possibly opportunity: Generative AI is loser technology and it doesn’t deserve you. The more you use it the more we all lose. Maybe not immediately, but eventually. You will give more of your data, trust, money, water and critical thinking skills to the consumption robots, and what you’ll get in return won’t ever belong to you.
AI is a loser machine. And I hope you don’t use it, not because you need to prove your morality to me, but because I don’t want you to lose. I think you deserve better than a resource-guzzling, death-causing, random word generator.
I had about 1.5 yards left from some block print fabric I got for a dress a few years ago and wanted something easy to throw on for Zoom calls, so I made a Grainline Willow Tank again for the first time in a long time.
Every past Willow Tank I’d made was way too tight so I re-measured and ended up going up 3 sizes. I think I look mostly the same after 7 years of lifting but if you want actual proof of progress, the measuring tape doesn’t lie–I have an extra 2 inches of muscle around my back and chest now. (Jeah, bro!)

I generally like a collar on my Zoom tops but when it’s 100 degrees out and the AC is struggling to keep up in the upstairs office, I just can’t do it. The Willow still looks put-together enough but is nice and breezy, so I might be making a few more.
I made a lot of progress on the garage over the long weekend! I finished mudding and then sanded and even started with primer in one corner. My dad told me about “dust control” drywall compound and it was definitely worth the extra money: It’s still dusty but the particulates want to fall to the ground faster, so at least it’s not floating in the air.
My walls aren’t the smoothest in the world but they’re also not the most textured either. I can tell I got better!

I took a little break from everything to go on a hike Friday afternoon up Big Cottonwood. The clouds were doing the most and it was just lovely.
1. I feel like I should post something patriotic for America’s 250th, so here’s Winson Hearn writing about imagining a better political future:
Cultivating political imagination is an act of hope. It reminds us that even though the institutions and centers of power in our world are currently captured by dumbass evil humans; that is not a permanent state. The future has not occurred yet. The dreams you imagine and the beliefs about how the world should be you develop based on those dreams will inform the actions you take in the future. They give you new stories to tell, new futures to paint, new invitations to extend to your neighbors.
Before January 2026, I could not imagine that thousands (millions?) of Americans would choose collective well-being over personal safety. I did not think we had it in us. That was a failure of imagination on my part, and I will never again fail to believe in that possibility, thanks to my comrades here in Minnesota. I was wrong about what was possible, and it genuinely encouraging to find out just how wrong
2. Also patriotic: Ellen Cushing writing about World Cup visitors discovering ranch dressing in The Atlantic:
We like the recent wave of ranch stories because they are funny, but mostly because they make us feel good. They remind us that this country can serve as a source of delight for the rest of the world, that we can make things that feel worth taking back home and sharing.
3. Not patriotic at all but oddly touching? “I Work Very Hard, And I Would Like To Try Cake, By A Horse” in The Onion.
“Every day I dream about what it will be like if I get to eat cake. Here is what will happen. First, I will walk to the cake and puff my nose at it like hrrrfff to make sure it is not a snake. Then I will trot in a circle to show that I am a horse and I am large.”