tiny kazoos

(i'll tell you mine. you tell me yours?)

Hellooo! And welcome to the paid-subscriber-only zone, where we celebrate our week’s tiny kazoos. (Tiny because they’re less visible than the big stuff of growing up. Not because they’re less lovely. Kazoos because they’re less shiny than the traditional milestones. Not because they’re less worthy.) If you’d like to gift someone a subscription to this part of the newsletter—or request a free subscription for a friend in need—I’d be so happy to spread the confetti.

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1. Tried most of All Saints Day to write something profound. Eventually, after some weeping and gnashing, received something profound instead. This, from Native American writer Linda Hogan: “Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me. ‘Be still’ they say. ‘Watch and listen. You are the result of the love of thousands.’”

2. Cancelled a weekend trip with friends we were really looking forward to because of financial anxieties. energetic anxieties. social anxieties. How good of us to raise our white flag of capacity. Even if it makes us look High-Mai, Party Pooper-y, Dougie Downer-esque. It also makes us look NOT EIGHTEEN.