saratoga nights

forced mental math, yesteryear, and my lena dunham awakening

Happy May, everybody! It wouldn’t be al dente if I didn’t start this post by recapping the tumultuous weather pattern I’ve dealt with over the past week, which is beginning to feel like a personal affront to my overall well-being and happiness. The long and short of it — the hot and cold of it, if you will — much is left to be desired. I have learned that on the days when the sun is shining, and I can do my work and drink my coffee and read my books outside, I am scientifically 70% happier.

I truly believe every time I get to sip my morning coffee outside, wearing my PJs and one of my cute little hats, hours are added to my lifespan. That’s how happy it makes me. Thus, I’ve found myself daydreaming about a cross-country move to LA or San Diego, which sounds rash, but is really just an East Coaster’s right of passage when we get to the end of April, and we have yet to don a single pair of shorts this calendar year.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve also been hit with the ~idyllic life in the English countryside~ content on Instagram, and yeah, I want that. I told Noel I would m*rder someone to be able to live in one of the houses that always gets shoved down my throat on that devil app, and like any good friend, she said she’d help me do it. (Substack, please don’t flag this, it’s just a figure of speech xx).

Alas, this week is looking warm and sunny, with highs of 60-78°, so no need to think about that just yet. And as for the intermittent rain I see on my weather app this week, I simply refuse to acknowledge it until I’ve left the house in velvet ballet flats, sans umbrella, and a fresh blowout.

I found myself in this exact scenario this weekend, on my way to meet Bonnie for drinks and to uphold our positions as We Thieves’¹ top customers. I texted her when I was on the way over, describing my mood as “wretched,” based on the water-to-fabric ratio of my clothes, but nothing some chicken fingers, a new denim jacket, and a few cold brewskis can’t fix. Our day ended at a no-phones-allowed wine bar, which sounds very chic but is really just inconvenient, especially for us freaks who can’t calculate a tip without the painfully cringe assistance of a phone calculator, or when you’re trying to identify a chartreuse crushed-velvet upholstered armchair from across the room, with an urge that can only be described as the power of god.

Unfortunately, this month, I was also inside a good number of bars that did allow phones. Many of these were on a weekend visit to Saratoga, where we visited approximately one hundred bars in one night. The digital proof of this evening includes a 60+ second video of the most dad band you’ve ever seen — I still haven’t hit play on the video two weeks later, but I’m fairly certain the song was Every Rose Has Its Thorn by Poison (iykyk). I also have a video of Matt, Amanda, and Andy (Matt’s dad) taking a tequila shot in a fluorescently lit three-story dive bar, and various blurry photos of Jack and me, mid-krump, jacket tied firmly around my waist. Perfect.

The hangover that followed was slowly and surely cured by a beautiful sunny day, one of the best iced lattes I’ve ever had, a walk through the park, baby ducks, a trip to a kickass bookstore, and Noah Kahan’s new album. Of course, I only ever find myself hungover on days with an intensive travel itinerary attached to it, so during our cumulative six-hour road trip, I slowly broke off pieces of bagel and clutched my new copy of Famesick for comfort like a teddy bear.

Now that it’s the beginning of May, morale is high. I have been on a ROLL with five-star reads, and my list of TBR is looking good; great even. I am all jazzed up to wear my flip flops with every outfit ever because, for some reason, they’re the only shoes I think make every outfit work. I will be spending every minute I can soaking up the sun, and that will be that.

But before all of that can begin, legally, I must share with you all of my favorite things this past month, and then we can all move forward. Sound like a plan? If you’re on the fence about being a paid subscriber, just know that I’ve included a very cute photo of Nelly right behind this paywall AND you’re supporting my hopes and dreams.

Without further ado, these are the things that tickled my pickle this April: