A Better Way To Think About Giving Tuesday

You are probably inundated with posts, emails, tweets, and other messaging about Giving Tuesday, which is tomorrow.

May I offer another way to think about it?

You surely have people on your holiday gift lists who need a gift from you, but who don’t actually need anything. Yes? I know I do. Instead of buying a tie, or a scented candle, or another well-meaning but banal gift, make a charitable contribution in their name.

• Your aunt likes dogs? Give to the local ASPCA.
• Your mother-in-law is a rabble-rouser? Try the Southern Poverty Law Center.
• Your father has a fondness for fishing? How about the Atlantic Salmon Federation?
• Your grandparents always take you to the ballet? Make a gift to Dance Theatre of Harlem.
• Your sister is a passionate advocate for women's health? The Fistula Foundation does great work.
• Your friend works for a non-profit? That's easy - donate there, in their honor.

One less mug out there in the world, one more pair of pointe shoes for a ballerina. It's a win/win.
​
Incidentally, Giving Tuesday is a new phenomenon - it only began in 2012, the brainchild of the 92nd Street Y. The intent was, and remains, lofty: "a way to pivot back to the values of community and gratitude celebrated on Thanksgiving after Black Friday and Cyber Monday." So, even though you're feeling overwhelmed by the solicitations pouring into your in-box, think about how you can kill two birds with one stone: a charitable contribution can be your gift to someone on your list.

My High Concept, Wholly Idiosyncratic Summer Reading List

Top to bottom:

1. The Poisoned Chocolates Case (by Anthony Berkeley)
2. Sandwich: A Novel (by Catherine Newman)
3. Butter Honey Pig Bread (by Francesca Ekwuyasi)
4. Blood Sugar (by Sascha Rothchild)
5. The Heaven & Earth Grocery Store (by James McBride)
6. The Spinach King (by John Seabrook)

We almost always go to Cape Cod for a week at the beach in the summer, and I always plan to read a lot - like five, six, seven books.

Last month, I started thinking about the book list. I knew I wanted to read Catherine Newman's Sandwich; it's set on the Cape and she's a wonderful writer. Perusing my list of books "to read", a theme emerged. And so, the summer 2025 list snapped into place.

The first five are all fiction; The Spinach King ended up on the list because it got a great review in the NYT book review (and for the title, natch). The five fiction books were all great in different ways; The Spinach King was kind of unreadable and I didn't finish it. (And it was the only book I bought new, everything else was a used book.) 

The Poisoned Chocolates Case is a delight. Instead of a "normal" mystery, in which something happens and then gets solved, this one gets solved EIGHT different ways. (Six ways in the original, and two more in later addenda by contemporary writers.) Excellent concept, and the book is snarky/witty. I loved it. 

Sandwich is the perfect book to read on the first day of a Cape Cod vacation in the kind of rented house that you have to bring your own sheets and towels to. I love Catherine Newman. I love that she brings Vienna Fingers to the beach. I think she would appreciate that my daughter has a pair of flip-flops that we bought in an emergency (read, left hers home) at a surf shop that were rather more expensive than the usual Old Navy flip-flops and henceforth and still are known as “luxury town“ because yes, she still has them lo these years later. I love how Newman describes “our” beach with the sand ramp. I want to know which is the “good” take out place. I love the way her Cape week is larded with the same kinds of traditions that ours is. And her writing about the sandwich place between aging parents and young adult children is spot on. 

Butter Honey Pig Bread is tasty and so well written. It’s a love story, a redemption tale, and a story of twins whose mother is … complicated. And it’s full of food. Like, there are almost usable recipes embedded in the text. It's glorious (and I want to go to her Nigeria). 

Blood Sugar is totally a beach read (like, I read it in a day on the beach.) The protagonist is def a little sketch, and her lawyer is too, but it's a fun nuanced read. Were the actions of the protagonist and the lawyer justified? Is it okay that we're rooting for some flawed humans? Yes! We're on the beach and we're stretching our brains!

The Heaven & Earth Grocery Store is a shaggy sprawling intricate yarn. So many threads and so many characters, and yet, snap, they come together. 

The Spinach King is a total slog. I wanted to like it, but I couldn’t finish it: it veers all over the place from horses to farming to politics to greed to frozen vegetables to clothing to vanity to social climbing to union busting. When I found myself idly turning pages, I decided it was time to put it aside.

So - five and a half books in a week. What's on your list?

Hardware Store Necklaces

I got on the subway at the end of a workday, and sat down. A woman was sitting across from me, scrolling through her phone. She was well-dressed, maybe on her way to some kind of event, not on the way home from work. Lipstick sharp. Blue dress with a jacket in a slightly different shade of blue. Blue nail polish. A graphic animal-ish print purse. Oversized glasses, a dark bob.

And a statement necklace.

The necklace fascinated me. The necklace is why I surreptiously took her picture. Look at it! It's a piece of cheap hardware with a couple of carabiners and a lenght of chunky chain. You could go to the hardware store and pick up all the bits you need to make your own.

 Hitching Ring: 

 

Carabiners:

 

 Chain: 

 

What it reminded me of was Anni Albers. Albers was a textile artist and printmaker, who made a number of necklaces out of grosgrain ribbon and plain flat washers. The first time I ever saw one of the necklaces on exhibit, I detoured home past the hardware store and bought a pack of washers, knowing that I had grosgrain at home. It's easy to do - but if you don't have the desire to figure it out yourself, the Albers Foundation helpfully sells a kit. Who needs Tiffany when the hardware store has everything?

Amsonia

Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future,
And time future contained in time past.
If all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable.

T.S. Eliot (from Four Quartets)

My sister died last week.

It wasn’t a surprise; she had been diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer eight and a half years previously. But she had good medical care, and her decline was slow and mostly manageable. Until it wasn’t, and she had a sudden and precipitous decline. On Saturday, she was out at a local ballet performance. On Sunday, she was in the emergency room. Monday, hospice was called in, and she died on Thursday. Her wife and her kids and I were with her at the end; hospice provided exemplary care.

But oh, the ache.

A couple of days after she died, I opened the newspaper and a movie review jumped off the page at me. I’m not a huge movie-goer but Sarah was, and the last time I’d been in a movie theater was a couple of months ago, with her. [We saw Black Bag, and we were the ONLY people in the theater.] So – in part as a way to honor Sarah’s love for moviegoing – my daughter and I set off for a late afternoon showing of Jane Austen Wrecked My Life. And it was perfect and Sarah would have loved it. It’s half in French, half in English. It’s set in Paris (with a lot at Shakespeare & Company) and also in an English country manor house turned writing retreat. It has a Mr. Darcy, it has spitting llamas, and who doesn’t love a movie in which *the* Frederick Wiseman has a cameo.

Somewhere along the line, one character quotes Wordsworth at another: “that best portion of a good man’s life: his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love.”

In my head, I re-gendered the quote, thinking of the little acts of kindness and love carried out by my sister.

Go forth with love. See a movie, plant a perennial, bake some breadsticks, mail a postcard. Advocate for the voiceless, volunteer with a local organzation. All of these are the little acts that a good person does, day in and day out. And these little acts into the future honor the past.

Go forth with love.

A Typeface for Mrs. Pollifax

The Mrs. Pollifax books are delightful so when I found a copy of A Palm for Mrs. Pollifax in a little free library, I took it even though I'd read it six years ago and even though it was a cheap trade paperback from 1973. 

Imagine my delight at the typography! That chapter heading typeface looks just like the font I used in junior high school shop class to make personalized stationery. It's kind of awful and wonderful, and harkens back to old school handwriting: the capital F, the capital L. 

I think it's either Coronet or Ribbon, thanks to What The Font, a nifty site where you can upload an image and it'll identify the typeface. 

Also, I did rather enjoy the description of golf, even if "greensward" is one word (not two):

In Langley, Virginia, it was mid-afternoon. Carstairs inserted the key into the lock of his office door and entered with a sigh of deep relief. He felt he had been excessively well-behaved today. He had risen at dawn, driven bumper-to-bumper to the golf club, awaited his turn in a milling crowd and played eighteen holes of golf under a humid, 90-degree sun. His doctor had told him the fresh air and exercise would rejuvenate him but instead he felt hot, irritable, and betrayed. To a man accustomed to deploying live human beings around the world he could think of nothing more idiotic than mindlessly pushing an inanimate ball around a green sward in the sun.

In Which Lung Cancer Meets A Birthday

Today is my sister’s birthday. She's pretty cute, eh?

More than 8 years ago, she was diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer. For the past 8 years, she has worked tirelessly on behalf of lung cancer research and advocacy. Among other things, she served as a patient representative to panels run by the Congressionally Directed Medical Research Programs (CDMRP).

What is the CDMRP? From its website:

The CDMRP originated in 1992 via a Congressional appropriation to foster novel approaches to biomedical research in response to the expressed needs of its stakeholders-the American public, the military, and Congress.

One of the specific and unusual aspects of the program is that they involve consumer advocates throughout the program cycle – that’s what my sister did for several program cycles.

She was even profiled on the CDMRP’s website (and/but you'll notice I had to go to the Internet Archive to find "her" page). What she said about her association with the CDMRP is:

The work is hard, especially for someone like me who lacks a scientific background. The opportunity, however, to participate in something so important makes all the hours spent sweating over the applications thoroughly worthwhile. I feel tremendous hope for the future when I get to see what the researchers are working on, and I am always honored and humbled to share a conference table with the brilliant scientists who are superheroes to me and my fellow patients. To be able to provide the patient perspective on proposed research is a gift that I cherish, and I take great pride in the work I have been able to do for the LCRP.

Besides the fact that it’s her birthday, why am I writing about this?

Because the current year’s budget for the CDMRP is about 43% of what it was last year, and lung cancer has been cut out altogether.

What kind of cancer kllls more people than any other, by a lot? LUNG CANCER.

If you feel up to it, please complain to your congressional representative. And if you have a few spare nickels, please consider a donation to Lungevity. Thanks.

In which we put our heads in the sand

The other day, I was rummaging around on the intertubes, and I landed on a TimesMachine page for a 1952 copy of the New York Times. What really intrigued me wasn't the newsy stuff on that page, the stuff I'd been looking for - but that on the lower right hand corner appeared a crossword puzzle! An edited by Margaret Farrar puzzle, from 1952.

Being a person who *really* likes doing the NYT puzzle every single day in pen, I grabbed the puzzle image and printed it out for my train ride home.

And man, it is HARD. It is larded with things I had to look up - like "Creator of Mr. Tutt" and "Governor of Hawaii" and "Senator from Tacoma". And it's full of uncommon (archaic) words like the answers to "Assumes presumptuously" and "Roasted" and "Splinter". And then there was the blasé generic "Actress from Germany". I did get "White House initials-to-be" right off the bat because that answer still turns up in current puzzles - though clued way differently (i.e. W.W. II hero who retired from the mil. to run for president or H.S.T.'s successor or Onetime White House inits.)

All in all, it was an entertaining and engaging exercise but I hope to not encounter a "Relative of the civet" or a "Two-year-old sheep" anytime soon.

If you'd like to try, here you go:

And the 2025 classic read is ...

Middlemarch. Yes, I've read it before - I read it in college for English 272, which was a survey class on some 19th century Brit Lit classics. (I still have the asssigned copy, which is why I know what specific class it was ... I wrote it inside the cover.)

But Middlemarch slithered into my consciousness because of that column in the New York Times Book Review called "By The Book" - a weekly interview with some author who has just published something. I skim it every week, and often it's too twee for words, but what I started to notice was how many people mentioned Middlemarch in response to a question.

• What books are on your night stand?
• What books are you embarrassed to admit you’ve never read?
• What’s the last book you read that made you laugh?
• What’s the last great book you read?
• Who is your favorite fictional hero or heroine?

Because this had come up in conversation, on Sunday, my sister texted me a picture of the 12/29/2024 book review because yes, Elda Rotor named Middlemarch as something she was embarrassed not to have read.

In a fit of something or other, I sat down at my computer and I methodically searched the Times website for the entirety of 2024, and located 51 of the 52 "By The Book"columns. There may have been one on 9/1/24 - but I couldn't surface it. And 11 times in 51 weeks, someone answered Middlemarch. That's 20 or 22% of the time! (Math is complicated because Robert Kagan gave Middlemarch as the answer to two different questions in the same interview.)  If you would like to see the fruits of my labors, I made a spreadsheet - it's here. 

This is a long way around to explain why I'm cracking Middlemarch open later.

War and Peace: COMPLETED

At the end of last year, I learned about a "slow read" of War and Peace. Something about the idea of reading a chapter a day intrigued me so I bought a used paperback, of the Louise & Aylmer Maude translation, and plunged in. 

For the most part, I did actually read a chapter a day, although there were a few moments when I got behind and caught up, or read ahead because it would fit better into my life. And let me tell you, War and Peace is a potboiler of an action-packed soap opera. That is, up until the second epilogue in which Leo gets all philosophical and stops talking about the Rostovs and the Bolkonskys. And Pierre. To be honest, I think just reading it straight through over, say, a month might have been better. I remember the experience of reading A Suitable Boy and feeling completely bereft at the end; I missed all of those people that I'd spent every evening in bed with. Taking an entire year to read War and Peace meant bite sized reading sessions - but also meant that by the end, I'd forgotten what happened at the beginning. Well, not really, there were a lot of parties at the beginning. 

Anyway - if you so desire - the slow read was under the auspices of one Simon Haisell, at Footnotes & Tangents. Every day, there's a group chat, and every week, Simon does a wrap up. And some kind soul provided merit badges for the end of every section. 

As for me?  I am damned happy to have read it, finished it, done the thing I set out to do. 

April 1st

Of course yes, it's April Fool's Day. It's also the birthday of Gil Scott-Heron (b. 1949), and the anniversary of the day that Singapore became a British crown colony (in 1867), and the date that then-President Richard Nixon signed the Public Health Cigarette Smoking Act into law (in 1970), and when Google launched gmail (2004). And in 2009, my mother died. Fifteen years ago.

She sits beside me - in the books on my shelves, the objects hanging on the dining room walls, the roll top desk in the next room. Her plants are in my garden, a bottle of her perfume is on my dresser.

Last fall, my husband and I visited our daughter in the south of France. Shortly before our trip, my sister unearthed a small spiral bound notebook, with the notes my mother had taken when she took my siblings to the same general area in 1985. I scanned the whole thing and took it with us. It's a gem, and we are still quoting aloud from it. Taking that notebook with us was like having her along.

Cavaillon - the Hempstead of France

Here she is, hiding behind an urn, in 1985:

Moky as Gorey character

I miss her. But I am glad to have her around in the ways that I do.

In Which We Attempt That Baked Icing

I'm not going to lie: the spice cake with the baked icing intrigued me, because "baked icing". I had never heard of such a thing. But I am a person that owns two copies of The Joy of Cooking, 1953 and 1975, so I pulled them out and sure enough, both editions had a baked icing recipe.

The Joy of Cooking, 1953

The Joy of Cooking, 1975

How about that language change around the addition of cocoa? In 1953, cocoa varies the flavor, but in 1975 it provides an exciting new taste!

I made Mrs. Wright's recipe more or less as written, and while it was okay, I don't think I'll do it again - mostly because it's hella sweet. The icing is interesting though - it's essentially a baked meringue topping, spread thinly and baked long enough that it's brittle. Also - it's fragile and a little tricky to get out of the pan - it would probably be best baked in a loose bottomed pan.

If you want to try it, here's a slightly tweaked version of Mrs. Wright's recipe. (I used butter and yogurt in place of shortening and soured milk, added ginger, and left off the nuts.)

SPICE CAKE WITH BAKED ICING

• 1/2 cup softened butter (1 stick) 
• 1 cup brown sugar 
• 1 egg + 1 egg yolk 
• 1 1/2 cups flour 
• 1/4 t. salt 
• 1/2 t. cinnamon 
• 1/2 t. ground ginger 
• 1/2 t. ground cloves 
• 1/2 cup yogurt (not greek)

Preheat oven to 350° F. Cream butter and sugar. Add egg and egg yolk; beat well. In a separate bowl, stir together all dry ingredients. Add flour mixture to the butter/sugar/egg, alternately with the yogurt.

Spread into a greased & floured pan (1 8" square, or two loaf pans). Use a parchment sling, or a loose bottomed pan, if you want to be able to get the cake out of the pan in one piece.

• 1 egg white 
• pinch of salt 
• 1/2 cup brown sugar

Beat egg white until it forms stiff peaks. Mix in the salt and brown sugar. Gently spread this meringue on top of the batter. Bake 30-35 minutes. Cool on a rack for 10 minutes, and then gently move the cake to a serving plate.

Time For Dessert (part 3 of 3)

The last two of Mrs. Wright's recipe cards are for desserts that are a little off the beaten path. When was the last time you had a dessert with concord grades, or a baked icing? Indeed, when have you even heard of a baked icing?

If you've been around my blog for a while, you may remember a concord grape pie courtesy of a different neighbor, Ruth. Marian's Concord Grape Crunch isn't a pie - it's got an crust of oatmeal/butter/sugar pressed into a pan, spread with concord grape "filling", and topped with crumbles of the rest of the oatmeal/butter/sugar mix. Of course, true to form, there is no recipe for the filling - once agin, as in so many of Marian's recipes, one is just expected to know how to make a [fill in the blank]. This card's in someone else's handwriting, but I'm pretty sure it's not the next door neighbor Ruth's hand.

I confess that the part of this next and last recipe that attracted me was the "baked" icing. Reading the card, it's a pretty basic spice cake, but the last step before it goes in the oven is to make an egg white & brown sugar meringue, and spread that on top of the raw cake batter. I'm a little intrigued.

I also love the addendum with the instructions on how to sour milk.

I think March will be "make all the things" month.

Time For Dessert (part 2 of 3)

The next two desserts are both familiar and not particularly exotic: Pecan Tassies and a Lemon Loaf Cake. It is possible that I kept the card for the pecan tassies because of another neighbor who always made them (and who, together with her husband and 215 other people died in the crash of EgyptAir 990), but I don't know that Marian got this particular recipe from Sharon. Maybe, maybe not. If you've never had pecan tassies, they are a bit like tiny pecan pies, with a hint towards rugelach since they're made with a cream cheese dough.

There are a million recipes for lemon loaf cakes - and yet, this one spoke to me. Maybe because it's typed? With a pencil direction "For Mrs. Wright"? Maybe because it's got BUTTER (instead of the margarine in other of Marian's recipes - like the pecan tassies)? Maybe because of the precision of the recipe with its admonition to "not beat the eggs". Although, the oven temperature is merely given as "moderate", and when do you add the grated rind of one lemon which "furnishes the flavoring"? I might make this.

Time For Dessert (part 1 of 3)

In all the time that I knew Mrs. Wright, what I knew her for - kitchen-wise - was dessert. It is, therefore, no surprise to me that I kept six recipes for sweets (seven if you include the "dessert" in the jello post).

Today's installment of Mrs. Wright's recipes includes two. The first one confuses me, and I kind of want to send it to B. Dylan Hollis for his take. It includes cooked mashed potatoes, and peanut butter, but after you make a dough with the mashed potates, and smear the peanut butter on, and roll it up, what then? Is it done? Does it need further baking, chilling, anything? Peculiar.

Also it's on a larger than usual index card, which had to be folded to fit in the standard 3" x 5" box, and it's in someone else's handwriting. Where did it come from?

Mrs. Wright was terrific at pizzele. She and my mother would compare notes and my mother's were never as good as Marian's. This is another example of a recipe for someone who knows how to cook. No instructions whatsoever - just a list of ingredients. If you want to be picky, there are two verbs: melt and add. But the proof of pizzele is in the baking. (And I wonder what happened to my mother's pizzele iron...and Marian's for that matter.)

Never Olive Oil

Next up in the cavalcade of index cards: Dressings and Condiments.

Mrs. Wright's raw cranberry relish is much like my mother's - that is, raw cranberries and a whole orange, with some sugar - but it has the addition of a ground up apple or two. I might try that one day.

I think I kept the poppy seed dressing recipe solely for the admonition - in a different hand! - that the salad oil should never be olive oil. It sounds terribly sweet, what with twice as much sugar as vinegar. What would you dress with this? [Nothing. I can't imagine making this.]

And I know I kept the Tomato Conserve card because of the handwriting. Such a beautiful old hand, with the title leaning to the left, and the body copy leaning to the right. Also, this is a recipe meant to be canned, and sealed with hot paraffin. My grandmother, and several of the neighbors, used to can with paraffin, and I remember that satisfying pop when you gently rocked the paraffin off the top of the jam. And of course, you washed off the paraffin disk so it could be remelted and reused. Thrift! The Tomato Conserve, though. It sounds rather like a chutney - tomatoes, lemon, raisins, walnuts - but it lacks any seasoning, and might be kind of boring.

Mrs. Wright's Main Courses

As promised, here are some more of Mrs. Wright's recipe cards. I kept only a tiny handful that fall into the category of main courses - a pot roast, some meatballs, a chicken dish, and a thoroughly gross sounding recipe for tuna on biscuits.

Pot roast might be my favorite. This is clearly the recipe of someone who knows how to cook, and just needs an outline. There is no cooking time, there are no instructions. It's really just fling a piece of meat in the crockpot with a package of onion soup mix and bob's your uncle.

Buzzy's meatballs are similarly vague - do you sauté the meatballs, or cook them in the gravy? I guess you sauté them, because the gravy calls for "fat from the meat". And what makes them Swedish anyway? It's not like they've got lingonberry jam on the side. Like the pot roast recipe, this one's gonna be useless to anyone doesn't know how to cook. (And who is Buzzy??)

I would guess that the Chicken Oahu is Hawaiian in that it has pineapple. Interestingly, though, it's the sauce that's called "Oahu sauce" - and the pineapple isn't in the sauce. In short - you brown some chicken, cook it in the crockpot on a bed of stuffing cubes and pineapple, and then spoon an odd sauce over the top. The sauce is celery, onion and green pepper, simmered in a bit of water, and enriched with sour cream and cream of mushroom soup, and seasoned with a bit of soy sauce. To be honest, the whole thing sounds nasty.

But Tuna on Biscuits takes the cake for nasty. Hot tuna, in a milky sauce, with hard boiled eggs. Poor biscuits. What did they do to deserve that?

All About Jello

For years, really, like (counts on fingers) 18 years, I have had an envelope with a little stack of recipe cards in it. I move it from time to time, not wanting to throw the cards out, but not ready to *do* something with them. You see, they were part of a dumpster-dive haul when the lady across the street from my mom got moved to assisted living, and her house was emptied and sold and torn down and replaced with a shitty McMansion. Lots of the cards are in Marian's handwriting, but some aren't and one's typed and finally today I got them scanned.

Five are for jello or jello "salads". I mean, when was the last time you had jello salad or gelatinized anything?

First up - Cucumber Jello salad. It's definitely in the "not a dessert" category, what with the onion. I'm going to guess that you have to chill it again after you stir in the sour cream and cucumber "cut in tiny chunks"?

Next, another "not a dessert" jello: Tomato jello. Raspberry jello and a can of stewed tomatoes. I mean, I think that isn't a dessert - but what the hell is it? A side dish for a roast chicken? I wonder who Louise Reiss is (or more likely, was).

Moving on, we have two things called "salad" but both skew more towards dessert for me.

Jan's Salad is black cherry jello with fruit cocktail and frozen rasperries - with the option of chopped pecans or chopped apples.

And Fruited Nectar Salad mostly kind of sounds dessert-y - with ingredients like apricot nectar, mandarin oranges, seedless grapes and chopped apple. EXCEPT she's got a note to serve it with mayonnaise...so maybe it's not dessert after all.

Finally, we have Dessert. Just that - the card is titled dessert, the name of the recipe is dessert. It sounds a little like a lemon mousse - an egg yolk custard stirred into orange jello and then folded into beaten egg whites. Honestly, it doesn't sound too terrible. If I had some orange jello in the house, I might make it.

Still to come: meat, condiments & dressings, non-jello desserts.

I did it.

I am feeling reasonably chuffed because tonight I finished Adriene's 30 day FLOW journey - and the last practice was wordless. Yeah, I had to keep peeking at the screen, but yeah, I did it.*

Now, on to February.

*Cue: My Way

Two Truths And A Lie, musician edition

 Jeff Buckley stroked my cheek and told me I had beautiful skin. 

I went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art with Jimmie Dale Gilmore.

Lou Reed gave me a scented candle. (Actually his first wife did, but yeah, I worked on something with him.)

26 Days Into A New Year

It’s almost the end of January, but it’s not too late to report on New Year’s Resolutions, is it? Although, maybe they aren’t really *new year* resolutions – because some are short term, and at least one began back in the summer.

1) Last summer, I started learning French in Duolingo – I have a 148 day streak. At this rate, I don’t think I’ll be fluent any time soon, but I like spending a few minutes a day working on my French.

2) A few years ago, my sister talked me into one of Adriene’s 30 day yoga journeys. I’m doing it again this year: FLOW. I missed one day a couple of weeks ago – but made it up by doing two a couple of days later. I missed another earlier this week – and I’ll make it up this weekend. Adriene’s yoga classes are on demand on YouTube, and are mostly about 20 minutes long. 20 minutes of not-difficult yoga before bed has helped me sleep better.

3) In a fit of madness, I signed up for tap dancing classes. It was a bit of synchronicity – someone in my office had spread out 57 pairs of tap shoes on the same day that someone on Facebook posted a link to a class in the town next to me at a time I could actually make. So I borrowed a pair of tap shoes, and I’m working on coordinated noise.

4) Right before the end of December, I saw a Facebook post about a slow read of War & Peace, so I’m doing that too. War & Peace is approximately 360 chapters (different editions are differently chaptered), so it’s a chapter a day for a year. There’s a guy who moderates; he provides a daily prompt for a reader chat, and a weekly sum up. And yesterday we finished book one/part one. 

Daily yoga, daily French, daily Tolstoy, weekly tap, and the daily puzzles* that I was already doing - all that adds up to a lot of regular tasks. But they are all enjoyable and maybe even rungs on a self-improvement ladder. Huh. I don't think I've ever done New Year's Resolutions before - but this year, not only have I done so, I've kept on keeping on. 

* So many puzzles:

• New York Times Crossword (daily in pen, on the train, and usually I follow it up by checking on how Rex felt about the puzzle)
• NYT Wordle (first thing in the morning, results texted to the kid, and occasionally shared more broadly if the grid of blocks is pleasing)
• NYT Connections (also in the morning)
• WAPO Keyword