What are you doing this weekend? We had an intense one -week son for some reasons, but this weekend Toby is having his 15th birthday party! (It feels like yesterday, etc.) I am legitimately excited to organize a lot of sweaty children, play basketball and eat caramel cake. I hope you have a good one, and here are some that are around the web …
Easy strawberry lemonade.
How to sneeze silently. (I immediately sent a text message to my dad).
Brooklinen, our favorite home and bedding company, has a 25% discount throughout the site. We have its beautiful packages in the beds of our house, and I sleep very well in their pillows.
How great is this German 400 square feet house next to the lake?
Electronic emails with my son on the nap on weekends.
7 things I saw the people who used in Paris, including a very great haircut. (Large salad)
I can’t wait for the tomato season. (Nytime gift link)
An instant cure for restless legs. (Via Haley)
10 things I would say to my 16 -year -old self. “There will come a time when his sister’s presence” and “just because someone is an adult does not mean they are right.”
How incredible are the photos of astronaut Don Pettit of outer space? (Nytime gift link)
Unrecognized heroes or maternity. “Julie Owens, who bravely pulled a Tankini in mid -January to accompany her twins to a covered aquatic park. After swallowing an assistant of law in the wave pool, in a sample of an enormous value of merit and dry value three times.”
Oh Crikey.
Hahaha.
Next Tuesday in Brooklyn, I will be in a conversation on stage with my friend Adam Roberts, about his fun first novel, Food Person, about a ghost of kitchen books. Please join us, if you wish!
In addition, two comments from readers:
Jess says about what Glimmers has seen lately: “Oh, Jo, I would like to be able to send you a photo: today’s brightness was passing a random store here in Oxford, England, and watching a beautiful picnic configured in the window (red and white blanket, wicker basketry, false grass, etc.) with a French balsco that fills in the middle of the blanket of the blanket, look in my dolk.
Kate says Kate about four beautiful poems of motherhood: “It is not a poem, but this passage of small fires everywhere by Celeste ng kills me again and again:
The parents, he thought, learned to survive touching their children less and less. Like a baby, Pearl had hold on to her; He had used Pearl in a Honda because he had left her, Pearl would cry. There would hardly be a moment on the day they had not pressed their legs. As he grew up, Pearl would go to his mother’s leg, then Herst, then hand, if there was something in his mother who needed to absorb through the skin. Even when he had his own bed, he crawled in mine in the middle of the night of the night and excavated under the old mosaic quilt, and in the morning he would wake up tangled, mine’s arm set the belly of Bearls Mial. Now, when I was a teenager, Pearl’s caresses had a strange beer, a pecking on the cheek, a single arm hug already medium and even more precious for that. It was the path of things, he thought of mine for herself, but how difficult it was. The occasional hug, an head bowed to a moment on the shoulder, when what you really wanted more than anything was to press them and hold them so tight that it merged and could never be tasks separately. It was like training yourself to live alone with the smell of an apple, when you really wanted to devour it, sink your teeth and consume it, seeds, nucleus and everything. “
(Photo by Jacqui Miller/Stocksy).
Note: If you buy anything through our links, we can win an affiliation commission or have a sponsored relationship with the brand, at no cost to you. We recommend only products that we really like. Thank you so much.