Happy Virgo Season, Babes
Or, if you don't color code your spreadsheets I think you're insane.
Oops haven’t written a five things since June and barely wrote at all over the last month and a half. So if you forgot what that is (very fair) you can click right → here. Anyways! Let’s get to some babbling!
I will not quote Taylor Swift here. I will not quote Taylor Swift here. I will not quote Taylor Swift here. I will not quote Taylor Swift here. I will not quote Taylor Swift here. I will not quote Taylor Swift here. I will not quote Taylor Swift here. I will not quote Taylor Swift here.
How is already the end of August? Wasn’t it just February? Has it even surpassed 100 degrees over the last few months? Was there a fire season? Have we had enough Aperol Spritzes to last us until next May? Did we get tan at all? What happened to summer? Where did it go?
I feel like one of my parents whenever I muse at all about the passing of time. Even though I’m pathologically averse to acknowledging when I’m like my mom, I can’t help but hear her voice in my head.
“Where is the time going? How does it go so fast?”
I don’t know about anyone else, but I feel like it’s nearly impossible to “soak up the summer.” It feels like the second June 1st hits we’re in a mad dash of go go GO and before we know it the composition notebooks and highlighters are being put out again at Target and we’re Googling for new sweaters to purchase because fall is just around the corner. We’re lucky if we get a single wear in with the new Baywatch inspired suit we bought when the temps started rising, now we’re being inundated with Free People dupe after Free People dupe and pulling our crewnecks down from the back corners of the closet.
This is all to say, I don’t think summer ever lasts long enough. It’s always over in a flash.
As I wrote when I started this Substack a year ago, I think so much of my life has been marked by summers. The summer I lost my virginity, the summer I moved into my first solo apartment, the summer I got my dog, the summer when I went blonde, the summer I moved to Seattle, the summer I really decided to act on the “bisexual” feelings, the summer when I swore off cocaine, the summer when I learned to grill, the summer when I went floating every weekend, the summer when I kissed her for the first time, the summer when Venus went retrograde. The summer, the summer, the summer, the summer, the summer.
“Soak up the summer” the phrase says, somewhat intimidatingly. It taunts us to make the most of the barbecues, of the 9 PM sunsets, of the tank tops and shorts and Birks (oh my). It guilts us for spending too much time inside, for not dining al fresco at any chance we got, for bitching about needing AC and not reveling in the warmer temps. Did you soak it up enough? Did you appreciate what you had when you had it? Are you going to miss it when it’s gone for another 9+ months?
Time is a fickle thing. It chooses when to drag and when to fly by. In the case of Summer 2024, I think it chose the latter and I have mixed emotions about it. On one hand, I want to turn up the fireplace again and snuggle in my fleece robe and sip on a breakfast soup with a fried egg on top. On the other, it’s a little devastating that I need to harvest my peppers and tomato season is nearing its end and soon my bike shorts will be wholly impractical.
All of this to say, this summer has lowkey slipped away (that doesn’t count!!!!) and it’s a little melancholy to me.
But, to keep it simple and to look on the bright side while we still can before the sun starts setting at 4:45—what would the purpose melancholy be if it didn’t mean we have something worth missing.As much as I’m mourning summer, I am so ready for soup season.
I may just have to purchase this this year because it is perfect. We had our first rainy, chilly day in a while the other weekend and so I made a very delicious soup. I love when it’s dark and cold and you can curl up with a soup and book and some sort of ambient YouTube music channel. Truly perfect vibes. In honor of this approaching and being our norm, here is that soup recipe. I would have taken a picture of it but it is…not aesthetic whatsoever. But it is delicious. And that’s the most important thing.
Roasted Cauliflower Soup
Ingredients:
One head of cauliflower, broken down into florets
One head of garlic, sliced in half
Half of a large onion (or one medium), diced
One lemon, halved
2 tbsps of unsalted butter
Italian seasoning
Green Goddess seasoning
Miso paste
Salt and Pepper
Olive Oil
5 cups of water
For serving: Black pepper, crunchy crackers, or crusty bread
To Make:
- Preheat your oven to 425.
- Spread out your cauli on a parchment paper lined baking sheet with the garlic head. Season with EVOO, Italian seasoning, Green Goddess seasoning, and salt and pepp. Make sure everyone is good and covered.
- Roast to your desired roasted-ness, tossing about half way through. I did about 35 minutes.
- At the 7 to 10 minute mark, start sweating out your onions in olive oil a large dutch oven or soup pot. Season with salt and pepper.
- When your onions are translucent (not getting color!) add in your miso paste and combine. (Note: You could use better than bouillon here, I was out and honestly the miso was really good.)
- Add in your water and re-season everything. (Note: If you’re using broth or BTB you may not need to re-season, taste as you go duh.)
- Add in your cauli and roasted garlic and bring everything to a simmer for like 15 to 20.
- When your cauli is falling apart blend her up with an immersion blender or standard blender.
- Add back to the pot and melt in the butter and the juice of your lemon. (Note: Heavy cream would work here too and I also actually think coconut milk could be nice as well.)
- Serve and enjoy!!These are the best press on nails I’ve ever used.
A small nail showing with a full brekki showing. This is mainly just a flex that I am Very Good™ at eggs. I have officially made the switch from gels to press ons and I’m never going back.
Among the smatterings of diagnoses that my therapist and I toy with throwing around about myself is a sprinkle of OCD on top of the existing General Anxiety recipe. One of the ways this sprinkle manifests is (literally) picking myself apart. If there’s a scab I cannot leave it alone. If there’s an itch I will scratch it raw. I’ve never met an ingrown hair I wouldn’t spend hours digging out, a blemish I wouldn’t make sure to pop, or a hangnail I wouldn’t tear to my elbow if I could.
There are some solutions I’ve found that curb this impulse.
If Hero Cosmetics has no fans I am dead. I cannot sing enough praises about this body wash from Naturium. I am almost never without Aquaphor and some version of Neosporin.
But the thing that has made the biggest difference in my skosh of dermatillomania is indisputably having my nails done. Having hardened gel not only makes picking way harder and more tedious, but something about seeing shades of blue, coral, or rainbow french tips on my fingertips gives me some sort of placebo effect that makes me less compelled to mess with them. I can’t rip apart my cuticles when they’re regularly being trimmed. I can’t peel away the enamel on my nails when there’s a literal barrier in between.
As nice as regular manis are, I’ve honestly been converted over the last several months to the press on game. They’re substantially cheaper, they look just as nice, and I can change them up whenever I want. What a win! As they say.
I’ve tried a lot of brands, a lot of glue, a lot of trial and error and without question (thus far) this is the brand to buy. They actually last, the adhesive is super smooth and not bubbly, when it’s time to pop them off they don’t put up a weird fight that ruins the enamel on your nails. They’re really good. That’s all.This is just a crazy essay and you should read it.
Four Friends, Two Marriages, One Affair — and a Shelf of Books Dissecting It
I have a lot of thoughts about the ethics of writing your stories when they involve other people. I truly do not adhere to that Anne Lamott quote about how “people should have behaved better”, to paraphrase. I think some things should be kept in confidence and writing out of feeling vindictive or just “because you can” isn’t ever a solid motivation to do so.
I’ll probably write more about this at some point. (Aka: I will.)
But the story of Hannah Pittard, Andrew Ewell, Anna Shearer, and Ryan Fox is…to put it bluntly wild. This quote stands out:
“I was interested in the conversations where things had been lost for me that I hadn’t noticed. Because I like to think of myself as a good writer on whom very little is lost. Which is why this setting and situation — I think it hurt my ego. The fact that they cheated on me, and that I missed it, hurt my ego sometimes more than it hurt my heart.”
Ego is a hellavua drug. One that can, apparently, compel you to write a library table’s worth of books about one, sole incident.
Anyway I recommend it for an afternoon read!Regardless of it all: Happy Virgo Season
Just a short list of some things I love about being a Virgo:
My notes app. The way I color code my spreadsheets at work and put in a key for the correct shades of green, yellow, blue, and magenta to use. Trimming my plants. My morning routine. The way I’ve told people to stop talking to me because it was interrupting my morning routine. The way someone can trust I’ll always be honest with them, they way I always feel compelled to “say it with my full chest,” the way I am not afraid of expressing when something feels off. Being right. Being right being right being right being right being right. Beyoncé. Tomatoes. The Equinox. Having our season hit right in the midst of late summer/early fall which is indisputably the best season. Being ruled by Mercury so always having license to be extra miserable during a retrograde. Having a nearly perfect record on Connections. Solving the Mini in under a minute on a regular basis. Having people bitch about fast I can read a book and bitch even harder about how hard I can read a person. Trixie Mattel. Labor Day. Always having lens wipes, hot sauce (call back), a tampon, and extra sunnies in my bag. The inevitability of hearing from my astrology babes about what else they love about Virgos. And the inevitability of writing out them all out in my notes app immediately.
