Hello, hi.
It’s my turn to write the newsletter. Beth has written it a lot lately. Under any rules of fair play, it’s my turn. I have to say something…in written form…to you the good people of Substack.
I had grand plans to defend spending my hard-earned money taking my family on vacation, but I worked that out in a conversation with Beth about smoking.1 That was probably the right call. I make more sense with Beth there to go, “Yes, and…”
But what should I talk about now?
There’s a lot in the world I should talk about. Big things. Important things. Revealing things. In fact, Beth asked me if we should do a lightening round of all these important things at the beginning of Spicy. I responded, “No, thank you.”
Maybe it’s because it won’t stop raining here or the fact that I woke up at 3am two nights ago with my shoulder seized up in pain or that I’m currently dealing with a bird mite infestation (zero ⭐️s - do not recommend) but I’m not really in a should place right now.
I’m in a listen to Candy Rain on loop kind of place right now.
Have you listened to Candy Rain recently? It’s a harmonic, melodic, booty-shaking, makes-not-a-lick-of-sense perfect-ass song from 1995.
I don’t want to listen to some great new band. Keep your Fresh Finds, Spotify, I ain’t interested. I’m not looking to learn new lyrics. I want old lyrics stored away safely in my brain for nigh on twenty years that I can dust right off like no time has passed.
My love, do you ever dream of
Candy-coated raindrops?
Summer has got me all the way right now. I want old songs, trashy books, and nothing serious as far as the eye can see. Makes this work we do here a bit…tricky.
After all, shit is on the line. People are suffering. Plus, my kids are fighting and Felix’s blood sugar is out of range and my to-do list is getting longer by the minute.
I should listen to the newest episode of Ezra on trans rights. I should get back to reading Abundance and finish the Sunday New York Times but…
Have you ever loved someone
So much you thought you'd die?
Giving so much of yourself
It seems the only way
Tell me what you want and I
And I will give it to you
It’s like my brain has been taken over by Jeff Spicoli - if he were a member of Soul for Real. And, based on the text reactions to my 90s Karoke birthday party invitations, I am not alone.
So, just for now. Just for today. Just for this newsletter, I’m not going to should all over myself or all over you. Eat ice cream for dinner. Ignore the work assignment or that important work of nonfiction or your kids screaming in the other room. Turn up the music and join me under some candy-coated raindrops.
You're the same, my candy rain
My kid had cookies for breakfast today. She asked, I said yes because I had no energy to give her anything else. There was pb in there, so, protein? It's summer. The world is upside down. We all should eat cookies for breakfast.
You are so loved — just exactly the way you are, Sarah. Don’t should on yourself or let any of us should on you either! ❤️