Better Living Through Literature
Words + Projects + Stuff I Like
I had no idea Pizza Hut is remodeling some older stores to look like the 80s and 90s “Pizza Hut Classics.” The New York Times had a feature on it, which linked to a comprehensive list of locations from The Retrologist newsletter. Who wants to go to Lander, Wyoming and order a pan pizza with me?!
I might have posted that Kafka quote too early last week, because I was really feeling it this weekend:
“Every day I watch the terror grow and every day I have to work, run errands, do chores—how to describe that contradiction, and how to survive it.
Germany has declared war on Russia. Swimming in the afternoon.”
Except the modern version of his postscript would be, “We started a war in the Middle East. Hanging art and sewing on Sunday.”
It’s hard to know what to even say. It’s hard to not worry about, well, everything. It’s hard to take a few pictures because you’re really happy with your new space and then think about missiles hitting cities and destroying someone else’s space.
But I got my amaryllis bulb to send up a bud for the second year in a row? I guess that’s something. 
We said goodbye to Mom seven years ago today. Sometimes it seems like it happened decades ago; sometimes I still think, “I need to call her and tell her this!”
Grief does change, though. It doesn’t get “better,” but you get more used to it. Your loved one’s loss is (usually) less of a surprise, and you get more used to thinking about them without your heart breaking all over again.
It doesn’t go away, though, and I’m realizing that I don’t want it to. Because:
My HEARTFELT wish for all of us:
But if that’s not the case, then here are my hopes for the year: 
(You can buy this from Old Made Good! I might have to.)
I fully intended to post some seasonal links on Christmas Eve but I started cooking and didn’t even remember the blog until the afternoon. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Here, have some proof that I was cooking:
The traditional sugar cookies, a three-day affair (dough, baking, decorating).
Baby’s first coq au vin, a dish I’ve always wondered about.
Blanched green beans as a side dish (they died tragically in the oven upon reheating).
Cranberry orange rolls for Christmas breakfast because I thought eating cookies for breakfast would be anarchy.
And! We finally got snow on Saturday–last weekend was 60 degrees, yikes–so that was fun to hike in yesterday. 
Now that I’m sewing for long periods of time without having to go sit with an old kitty (sob), I’ve finally started listening to podcasts. Well, a podcast–the history of fashion one, Articles of Interest, by Avery Trufelman. I’d heard about it a few years ago when she spent a whole season dissecting Ivy League style. When she launched the new season about the history of outdoor gear, I jumped in.
It is FASCINATING. So far I’ve learned about:
…BANANA REPUBLIC.
In the newsletter that accompanies each episode, Avery includes photos and links. I clicked on “what the pictures of Banana Republic used to look like” so fast I might have broken the sound barrier. Someone has collected old photos but also SCANNED THE CATALOGS:
That’s right, Banana Republic was doing J. Peterman BEFORE J. PETERMAN. And if I’d never listened to a podcast, I would never have known! I’ve been liking the “Gear” season so much that I went back and listened to the entire Ivy Style season between new episodes of Gear being released. Check it out–think of the things you could learn!
1. How about a heartwarming story about typewriter repair? How to Fix a Typewriter and Your Life.
2. How about a Thanksgiving-appropriate poem?
Praise Song
by Barbara Crooker
Praise the light of late November,
the thin sunlight that goes deep in the bones.
Praise the crows chattering in the oak trees;
though they are clothed in night, they do not
despair. Praise what little there’s left:
the small boats of milkweed pods, husks, hulls,
shells, the architecture of trees. Praise the meadow
of dried weeds: yarrow, goldenrod, chicory,
the remains of summer. Praise the blue sky
that hasn’t cracked yet. Praise the sun slipping down
behind the beechnuts, praise the quilt of leaves
that covers the grass: Scarlet Oak, Sweet Gum,
Sugar Maple. Though darkness gathers, praise our crazy
fallen world; it’s all we have, and it’s never enough.
3. I’ve got the rest of the week off so I’ll see you on Monday. Don’t forget to hold hands.
It was a normal Tuesday night when our friends pinged us that you could see the Northern Lights in Utah?! I wasn’t expecting much, because when this has happened before we weren’t able to see anything, but LOOK AT THIS in our front yard:
I’ve always wanted to see them before I died, and here they were coming to me. Sometimes the universe just gives you a gift and doesn’t even make it a secret.
We’re just…going on with our lives while we get used to living without our boy, I guess. I’m trying not to rush out and adopt a dog and to actually let myself grieve but it’s hard; the house is awfully empty.
The googly eyes on the sign in Millcreek made me actually laugh, though. And everyone has been so kind–people delivered dinner, sent flowers, wrote sweet notes, cried with us. It’s nice to know everyone loved Toby like we did.
A few weeks ago, I started getting Instagram ads for saunas/bath houses in Salt Lake City. I had no idea there were so many (with increasingly weird names): Hot House SLC, Glow, Perspire, Plunj, Sweathouz (ew), and Sauna Public. Sauna Public was the closest to us with a traditional heated sauna vs. infrared, so we checked it out yesterday.
Photo above is from Google, but you can get an idea of the layout: the door in the tile leads to the sauna with two heaters and three levels, and you can see the showers out in the open to rinse off between sauna and cold plunge.
And here’s my photo, looking the other way out into the entrance and reception–it’s not a big space. That cold plunge pool looming ominously in the foreground was SO INCREDIBLY COLD. I thought I was tough sitting in the stream in Millcreek in the height of summer, but this was even colder. (It didn’t help that the open showers and the private showers in the changing room didn’t get hot at all–I think the water heater was having a hard time keeping up.)
The vibe was definitely more public pool than luxury spa, but clean and chill. Every guest besides us was an athletic guy in his 30s and they seemed to be subtly trying to out-stay each other in the cold plunge. I guess I was expecting more of an “old European guy” vibe but it makes sense that the bros would be all over hot/cold therapy for recovery.
Will we go again? I might try it alone to really see how much I can cook myself in the sauna, but I might be more of a sento/hot springs person. Or a backyard sauna person, someday, where I can make my cold plunge an indulgent 60 degrees versus 45.