Today you should read a short piece in the New Yorker: The Secret Rebellion of Amelia Bedelia, the Bartleby of Domestic Work
Come for the memories of a beloved childhood series, stay for the discussion of invisible labor and Bartleby the Scrivener–and enjoy possibly the best correction of all time:
A previous version of this post misidentified the type of clothing worn by the chicken in the drawing.
We made it to another Vernal Equinox, the sun has been shining, bulbs are coming up, and when you come in from a walk you smell like outside.
There is, of course, a quote for that:
“You smell like flowers and – and fresh things,” he cried out, quite joyously. “What is it you smell of? It’s cool and warm and sweet all at the same time.”
(from The Secret Garden, when Mary comes in to see Colin after working in the garden for the morning.)
1. I didn’t get a new max on bench on Tuesday, but last night was max effort on deadlifts (my favorite) and I broke my last record by 15 pounds–for 150 pounds! More than my body weight! Soon, I will deadlift a car.
2. I didn’t realize this but Heather Havrilesky, quoted yesterday, writes the Ask Polly advice column for The Cut. (Again, Austin Kleon clued me in, this time via his newsletter.) This week’s column was like one of my therapy sessions, i.e. very true to how my anxious brain gets worked up about something and how I get called out (gently) for thinking instead of feeling. (That is praise; you should read it.)
3. We got a lot of snow Wednesday; it’s already starting to melt and today is going to be over 50 degrees. It’s time to break out this quote from The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe:
And now the snow was really melting in earnest and patches of green grass were beginning to appear in every direction…Every moment the patches of green grew bigger and the patches of snow grew smaller. Every moment more and more of the trees shook off their robes of snow. […]
“This is no thaw,” said the Dwarf [to the White Witch], suddenly stopping. “This is spring. What are we to do? Your winter has been destroyed, I tell you!”
I’ve been thinking about a role change at work (from copy to content strategy) since the beginning of the year and have started to take steps to make it happen. Yesterday I presented my first content audit and it went great. Then I was exhausted later and thought of this book:
I quoted it back in 2013 right after a breakup, but I think The Little Duck is here to tell us that life changes are hard, and take work, and make you tired–and that naps are ok.
“This is no thaw,” said the Dwarf [to the White Witch], suddenly stopping. “This is spring. What are we to do? Your winter has been destroyed, I tell you! This is Aslan’s doing.”
I know it’s still early, but I’ve felt a little like Colin in The Secret Garden lately and missing out on spring because I’ve been spending too much time “in rooms.” But at least I’m not ill. (Or, to use the language of early 1900s children’s lit, an “invalid.”)
“Is the spring coming?” he said. “What is it like? You don’t see it in rooms if you are ill.”
“It is the sun shining on the rain and the rain falling on the sunshine, and things pushing up and working under the earth,” said Mary.
1. I remembered a passage from a children’s book (The Princess and the Goblin) about getting old:
Time to make handmade Christmas gifts, that is. Everyone’s getting a Laura Ingalls Wilder Christmas this year:
In the morning they all woke up almost at the same moment. They looked at their stockings, and something was in there. Santa Claus had been there. Alice and Ella and Laura in their red flannel nightgowns and Peter in his red flannel nightshirt, all ran shouting to see what he had brought. In each stocking there was a pair of bright red mittens, and there was a long, flat stick of red-and-white striped peppermint candy, all beautifully notched along one side.
They were all so happy they could hardly speak at first.
In other words, everyone’s getting the modern equivalent of mittens and peppermint.
(Read the whole chapter from Little House In The Big Woods here.)
Then [the Rat]held up his forepaw as the Mole stepped gingerly down. “Lean on that!” he said. “Now then, step lively!” and the Mole to his surprise and rapture found himself actually seated in the stern of a real boat.
“This has been a wonderful day!” said he, as the Rat shoved off and took to the sculls again. “Do you know, I’ve never been in a boat before in all my life.”
“What?” cried the Rat, open-mouthed: “Never been in a–you never–well I–what have you been doing, then?”
“Is it so nice as all that?” asked the Mole shyly.
[…] “Nice? It’s the ONLY thing,’ said the Water Rat solemnly, as he leant forward for his stroke. “Believe me, my young friend, there is NOTHING–absolutely nothing–half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats.”
(Chapter 1, The Wind in the Willows)
As you can maybe guess, I went out on a boat this weekend. Friends of ours had access to two sweet inflatable kayaks, so we went up to Cutler Reservoir and paddled around in search of birds. Much like Mole, I’d never been in a kayak and I, too, was pretty enraptured.
You can have lunch on a boat!
You can see the waterside flowers on a boat! 
And you can take “so outdoorsy I can’t even stand it!” selfies on a boat:
I bought a bag of Maui onion kettle chips on my last grocery trip and am making alarming progress on it. Last night I was chowing down before dinner, unwilling or unable to stop, and thought of Edmund and the Turkish Delight in The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe:
“…this was enchanted Turkish Delight and that anyone who had once tasted it would want more and more of it, and would even, if they were allowed, go on eating it till they killed themselves.
[…] Edmund was already feeling uncomfortable from having eaten too many sweets…But he still wanted to taste that Turkish Delight more than he wanted anything else.”
I think the moral here is don’t buy the bag in the first place.
