Notes
Thoughts & Goings-Ons
Book Notes: We Need Your Art
Book
We Need Your Art: Stop Messing Around and Make Something
Author
Aime McNee
Read
February 2026
Buy:
https://bookshop.org/a/17533/9780593833001
My Short Summary
An extended manifesto on the benefits of making art for its own sake, even when (especially when) modern society dismisses it as frivolous and unimportant.
My Short Take
I think I’d have enjoyed this well-intended but repetitive pep talk as a blog post (or even a YouTube video) rather than a 200+ page book.
Some Rambling
I fast-tracked this book way up my TBR list thinking it was exactly what I needed to read right now, and … was …not disappointed, exactly. It just wasn’t what I’d hoped for. That’s probably on me. I think I need to go into books with fewer expectations. This is the second book I’ve read this year, and I’m two for two in being so excited by the premise and then the execution not being what I was looking forward to.
I really like McNee’s voice: it’s down to earth, a little irreverent, fresh, modern, etc. But the content itself just wasn’t there for me mostly because it felt incredibly repetitive. The full title of this book is We Need Your Art: Stop Messing Around and Make Something. The 200+ pages pretty much just say that … over and over. I lost count of the times I had the thought, “Didn’t she just say that?”
There was an overall vagueness that made it hard for me to connect and feel inspired, both in the language and the advice. When she talks about her own experiences (she’s a novelist) she’s extremely specific and entertaining, which makes me think perhaps this book would have been more impactful had she leaned into writing a memoir.
But the advice portion, which is most of the book, felt like the type of suggestions we hear for any endeavor, not just artistic ones. Advice like: start with small achievable goals, don’t compare yourself to others, don’t be a perfectionist…
I’m not knocking these suggestions! They’re good! ! I was just really hoping for more, I don’t know … art? Inspiration? I wanted to hear more stories people creating music, photography, videos, web design, sketching, watercolor, abstract oils, sculpture, candle-making, recipe creation, floral arrangement … I dunno. I was really wanted something to sort of sink my creative teeth into, and didn’t find it here.
And this is where the personal “it’s not you, it’s me,” really comes in, but I think given my current mindset right now, I was hoping for a bit more encouragement on the idea that creating and art doesn’t have to be a novel, a painting, a drawing, playing piano, or any of the traditional “arts.” I wanted to be reminded that making anything, whether it’s making your favorite quote look pretty using Canva or spending or learning the art of exquisite quiche can count as art. This isn’t that book, and that’s fine. Maybe I should write it.
I did really appreciate the few pages on saturated markets; I hadn’t thought about the market in that light before, and found it quite helpful. “Art is not toaster” will stick with me!
I also liked the paragraph where she reminds us that we’re allowed to have boundaries when it comes to sharing our work online. That’s a big hang-up for me, so I really appreciated the reminder.
Ultimately: I don’t think I was the intended audience for this book, or perhaps it’s just not what I was expecting. It was a fast and easy read, I just never really felt moved, changed, or inspired. But that very well could have been my headspace, as this book otherwise gets overwhelming positive reviews from people who found it really helpful, and I’m thrilled, because despite this book not being a home fun for me, I whole heartedly agree:
We need your art.
Note
Many of the book’s pages are taken up with large hand-written reminders/quotes. I quite liked this given that it’s a book about art, but if you’re one of those people who feels like such things are “filler” to pad a book’s page count, you’ve been warned.
And you should also be prepared that a decent chunk of each chapter is taken up with extensive journal prompts. As an avid journaler, I like this in theory, but if it’s journal prompts you’re after, I love Wilde House Paper’s Open Journal Digital Library.
Recommended For
If you already know the precise art medium your soul is yearning to create, is but have never picked up the brush/pencil or stared down the black page, etc and need a pep talk, McNee makes a fantastic cheerleader!
If you have any previous creating experience, or are looking to unlock blocked/undiscovered avenues of creativity, I’d recommend the following:
Book Notes: The Secret Life of Plants
My Short Summary
A recounting of various experiments on plants exploring unusual phenomena and the possibility of plants being sentient.
My Short Take
Interesting and thought-provoking, but unconvincing and a bit of a slog to get through.
Some Rambling
I was really looking forward for this book, but by the end, I have to say I was mostly ready to be done with it. The introduction had me all excited about these new-to-me “discoveries” on plants, but I wasn’t aware when I added it to my wish list that it was published in the 70s. Which isn’t bad in and of itself, but I opened it thinking that it was going to be the latest and greatest on plant studies. Not so much. More “experiments from 50 years ago that had some interesting results.” And it became pretty clear even within the span of the book (to say nothing of the half century that’s passed) that many of the results were largely unrepeatable.
In that way, the book read more like lore than science, and yet … the book is also heavy on the “science talk,” as well as heavy on the details about the scientists themselves, which for me, frankly was boring. I pride myself in being an experienced reader of “dry” books, but I definitely found myself skimming, or wishing I could just read a summary of what experiment’s results, non the backstory of the scientist or detailed descriptions of the equipment used.
Because actually, the results were interesting, if not always convincing. I just thought there was a lot of unnecessary information that wasn’t really relevant to the reason I picked up the book in the first place: plants.
As I described it to my husband: I couldn’t quite figure out who this book was written for. It felt too technical for the layperson, and yet I couldn’t find anything about this book changing the modern scientific community’s understanding of plants beyond “there may be some things we don’t yet know about them?” All that said, I did find it thought-provoking, and I don’t think I’ll ever look at our house plants quite the same way again. But in more the spooky X-Files-esque “The Truth is Out There” kind of way, less “I know a lot of facts about plants now.”
Recommended For
People who love plants (or at least find them interesting) have an aptitude and tolerance for reading a scientific style of writing on a pseudo-science topic.
2025 Reading List
Below is a list of books I read in 2025.
I’ve been on a philosophy and biography kick for years now … I can’t get enough! Though this year I mixed in some history and a few others as well, but am still solidly in my nonfiction era.
Most of the links below are affiliate links to Bookshop.org, which I prefer to Amazon because it supports local bookstores, and one of my favorite things in the world is visiting small towns and immediately seeking out their local book shop.
My top two books of the year are in bold.
What I read in 2025
Million Dollar Weekend, Noah Kagan
Buy on Bookshop.org
Entrepreneurship, Business
The Fourth Turning is Here, Neil Howe
Buy on Bookshop.org
Politics, Current Affairs
Notebook: A History of Thinking on Paper, Allen Roland
Buy on Bookshop.org
History
The Vietnam War: A Military History, Geoffrey Wawro
Buy on Bookshop.org
History
The Ode Less Travelled, Stephen Fry
Buy on Bookshop.org
Poetry, Education
Montaigne, Stefan Zweig
Buy on Bookshop.org
Philosophy
Titan, Ron Chernow
Buy on Bookshop.org
Biography
Wisdom Takes Work, Ryan Holiday
Buy on Bookshop.org
Philosophy
Living a Quiet Life, Vanessa Marie Dewsbury
Buy on Amazon (unfortunately, not available on Bookshop.org)
Self-growth
Thoughts of a Philosophical Fighter Pilot, Jim Stockdale
Buy on Bookshop.org
Philosophy
The Sailing of the Intrepid, Montel Williams & Davis Fisher
Buy on Bookshop.org
History
Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott
Buy on Bookshop.org
Memoir, Education
Remembrance of Things Paris, [edited by] Ruth Reichl
Buy on Bookshop.org
Food Memoir, Anthology, Travel
Here’s the entire list on Bookshop.org, minus Living a Quiet Life, as the author opted to limit availability to Amazon.
Book Notes: Remembrances of Things Paris
Edited by Ruth Reichl
My Short Summary
A collection of short essays about Paris by editors of Gourmet magazine, ranging from 1930s to modern day.
My Short Take
Delightful and diverting, particularly if you love Paris and/or food.
Recommend
Yes, particularly to foodies and anyone who loves Paris.
Some Thoughts
Our friend Andrew bought this for us a couple years ago because he knows how much we adore Paris, and I confess it found itself onto a spot on our bookshelf that’s got sort of a Bermuda Triangle energy; whenever I went to decide on my next read, I just didn’t see it.
But for some reason in December, it snagged my eye. I’ve read a bunch of thick, chunky books this year, and really enjoyed them, but I was in the mood for something pretty during the holiday season.
This book absolutely delivered. I’m rather new to memoir reading, and I’m very new to any sort of “travel essays,” being a homebody at heart without much of a travel bug. But as mentioned, I have a soft spot for Paris, and with each turn of the page of this book I found myself eagerly anticipating our next trip.
Given that it’s from writers of Gourmet magazine, I expected it to be entirely food focused, and that’s certainly the common thread, though it’s really more of a love letter to Paris itself.
One of the most surprising—and rewarding—parts of the reading experience was experiencing the different “voices” of the writers. There are a couple of one-off essays, but many of the names became familiar over the course of the book, and by the end I could tell who’d written what without seeing their names.
As someone who’s heart’s been crying out for a chance to write something something other than fiction, I was fascinated at the way two writers could write about the exact same restaurant or or experience, and create such vividly different pictures of the experience.
Would I read this again? I’m not sure I need to. But I’ll remember it fondly.
Reading Notes: Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott
Read: December 2025
My Short Summary
A funny, quirky book that’s part memoir, part “how-to” guide for fiction writers.
My Short Take
Funny and well-written, but I wasn’t expecting this to be so focused on novel writing, and I don’t know if I’d have picked it up if the word novel or fiction had been mentioned anywhere in the book’s description. I felt a bit tricked.
I think maybe I just picked up this book at the wrong time. As a published novelist myself who’s trying to spread my wings beyond fiction, I wasn’t I wasn’t particularly needing or wanting so much specific advice as: “plot grows out of character,” or “dialog that is written in dialect is very tiring to read.”
That said, I do understand why it’s so cherished. I loved the introduction, and liked the rest. I don’t know that it’ll ever be a favorite, but I can see myself picking it up in the future to read a few passages that stood out.
Recommended For
Beginning writers who want to write a novel, or for people who just enjoy reading unique, well-developed voices.
Reading Notes: The Sailing of the Intrepid
Read: December 2025
One-Sentence Summary
A short and easy-reading history of the United States aircraft carrier the Intrepid, with a focus on its first combat voyage in the aftermath of Pearl Harbor.
My Review
So far my favorite read of 2025, and since I’m writing this in mid-December, there’s a good chance it will be the favorite. I have very little knowledge or interest of the navy or ships, so I was surprised how much I was not only riveted by this, but moved. I found myself inexplicably teary-eyed, and not just at the sad war parts. I just felt bizarrely connected to … a boat?
Who I’d recommend it for
I would have thought I’d be recommending it to navy/military/ship buffs, but I actually wonder if they wouldn’t find it a touch simplistic. This seems to be very much written with civilians who don’t know anything about the navy or ships or war time.
Anyone who wants to dip their toe into non-fiction but don’t want anything too meaty. This was one of the shorter books I’ve read this year, and very readable. It read more like a fictional adventure than it did dry history book (and this comes from someone who likes dry history books…)
Caveat
The Intrepid is docked just a few blocks away from my apartment in NYC, so I’ve walked/run by it hundreds of times over the past decade. It’s possible that’s why I felt so attached/interested in the book. But I still maintain that it’s a good read whether or not you’ve ever seen the actual ship!
The Genre of Your Life
You are the writer, director, and producer of your own life. Don't let anyone else choose the genre.
Some will try to convince you that the only fulfilling options are romance, a buddy story, or a family film. Often because that’s their genre, and they want you to be a supporting character in their story.
But you're also allowed to be a self-serious documentary. A moody gothic masterpiece, a silent black & white, or a weird indie flick with an ambiguous ending.
You don’t owe anyone a starring role in your story, and you definitely don’t owe them a rewrite.
Less, More
Inspired by William Jansson
Less
Screen time
Consumption
Pettifoggery
Guilt
Perfectionism
More
Creation
Fresh flowers
Reading
Paper
Silence
Coffee Dates
“I am not a good friend. I have never been capable of or willing to commit to the maintenance that the rules of friendship dictate. I cannot remember birthdays. I do not want to meet for coffee. I will not host the baby shower. I won’t text back because it’s an eternal game of Ping-Pong, the texting. It never ends. I inevitably disappoint friends, so after enough of that, I decided I would stop trying. I don’t want to live in constant debt. This is okay with me. I have a sister and children and a dog. One cannot have it all. —Untamed, by Glennon Doyle
The first time I read the above, I cried. And let me pause here to note that crying is not a default reaction for me. I’m more of a, “Boy oh boy, is my journal ever going to hear about this one” kind of emoter.
But that passage unexpectedly skewered a dark, hidden, ashamed corner of my soul. Glennon is obviously describing herself, but she could have been describing me down to the letter (minus the having children part, and I’m actually rather good at birthdays).
Only this version of me that I recognized in Glennon’s description? It’s not one that I celebrated, let up to the surface, or even acknowledged. It was more filed away under the “Deep Character Flaws To Hopefully Fix Someday” recess of my psyche.
This is perhaps entirely ego-centric, but it had never occurred to me that, I’m not the only one. I am not the only woman missing this friendship chip. Or at we’ve been told as friendship is supposed to look.
I was in my late 30s when I read Untamed, which means I’d spent 3+ decades hating myself for the very truth Glennon states with such confidence in another, related passage of the book:
“I am a sensitive, introverted woman, which means that I love humanity but actual human beings are tricky for me. I love people but not in person. For example, I would die for you but not, like...meet you for coffee. I became a writer so I could stay at home alone in my pajamas, reading and writing about the importance of human connection and community.”
Again, she it felt like she was inside my head. No, not my head. My soul.
“I love people, but not in person.”
I’ve never felt so seen.
There are exceptions, of course. My husband and I live and work in a small Manhattan apartment. And though we spend all-day, every-day together, I never feel drained in his presence. Perhaps because the most beautiful partnerships make room for long stretches of completely loving silence.
And I don’t never like seeing other human beings.
But like Glennon, I am not a good friend or family member in the classic sense. Glennon’s repeated references to “meeting for coffee” hit especially close to home, because a coffee date” is my actual nightmare. Even when it’s proposed by someone I love dearly.
Because that’s another thing I know about myself: I do love dearly. Deeply.
It just doesn’t look the way it’s “supposed to.” To repurpose Glennon’s phrasing, I don’t always love best in person.
You won’t find my most treasured experiences or connections on my Calendars app or Resy/Opentable history, because that’s rarely where they happen.
They come in the form of long weekly email exchanges with my friend Jen. These emails take me hours to write, and I cherish every minute of the process. When I get her equally long emails in response, I feel closer to her than anyone.
Or in the way my friend Laura and I will go months without any kind of interaction, and then drop in with out-of-the-blue text message that skips right over any sort of “what’s new with you” nonsense and drops right into something raw and weird.
Or a recent extended text message exchange with a family member that went deeper than any in-person conversation I’ve had over appetizers in more than a decade.
The email or message I write someone after we’ve hung out in person, because I’ve had the time my little brain needs to process all the things that were said aloud, so that I can respond with more depth than I’m able to in person.
It’s taken me decades to figure this out, but I think I was put on this earth to write. Stories, ideas, emails, text messages, letters, blog posts, captions.
Writing is my purpose, my higher calling. It’s what I do better than anything else, and though it’s taken me awhile to really get this:
It’s how I connect.
I’m not saying that everyone is like this, and I’m not saying my way is better. But I think I’m done pretending face-to-face is better for everyone.
When I first read Untamed several years ago, my biggest take away was the relief that I wasn’t alone. That I wasn’t the only “bad friend.”
But I recently revisited the book, and this time, something new jumped out at me.
Not just that Glennon acknowledges this about herself, not just that she’s brave enough to put them in writing for the world to see and judge, but that she takes it a step further:
This is okay with me.
This is okay with me.
It’s a scenario I’ve never let myself even contemplate.
To be okay with ... me.
No wonder I cried.
Astrology & the Mid-Life Crisis
One of the first things I learned in my astrology journey after getting a handle on my birth chart and turning my learning towards transits was the oft-discussed Saturn Return.
It happens for everyone around age 30-ish and 60-ish. For the newbies out there, your Saturn Return is when Saturn has moved through all 12 of the Zodiac signs to return to the same place it was when you were born.
For example, on my birthday, Saturn was at 1 degree Scorpio. It returned to that position in October 2019 when I was 29, and will return to the position again in 2041 when I’m 58.
The short version is that your Saturn Return happens every 30 years, and its effects coincide with 2ish years of transformation. It’s a time in your life when you find yourself taking stock of your life, and are forced to reckon with the things that haven’t been working to make way for growth.
And in hindsight, I can see that my first Saturn Return happened right about the time that I blew up my entire life, quit my job, and moved across the country. But, I’ll confess: since I discovered astrology several years after my first Saturn Return, and well ahead of my second, my understanding of Saturn Return is retroactive and conceptual, rather than personal.
Which is why given my own age (42 as I write this), I’m much more actively engaged with a less-talked about transit.
The Neptune Square.
The over-simplified explanation here is that every 40-ish years, Neptune (for reference, she’s a slow-mover through the zodiac signs, so you generally share your Neptune “sign” with everyone people born the same time as you) moves into a position that’s 90 degrees from where Neptune was the day you were born—this is also known as your natal Neptune.
Anyway, in other words, this is kinda about Neptune squaring herself; where she was when you were born, and where she was 40ish years and 90 degrees after that date.
Now, in astrology, Neptune is generally a soft, floaty planet; she’s all about dreams, intuition, and spirituality. I always think of Neptune as the mystic of our planetary influence, the one who can access the other side of reality’s veil. I’m convinced that if you’ve experienced déjà vu, Neptune was probably involved. And if Neptune were a Harry Potter character, she’d be Luna. And yes, I know Luna means moon, but I said what I said and stand by it, and if you don’t know who Luna is or you’ve cancelled JK Rowling, don’t even worry about it and move on.
So back to Neptune Square. (Again, a square is simply the 90 degree angle between two planets). A square is a slightly more antagonistic aspect. Not bad (because there is no bad in astrology), but squares tend to bring conflict and friction on their path to growth.
In this case of our Neptune Square, this conflict and friction paired with a dreamy and ethereal planet means that we find ourselves questioning our life and purpose on a more existential level. It’s not uncommon to hit the Neptune Square right around 40 and all of a sudden look at everything you were steadily building in your 30s, and think,
“Wait? Is this it?!”
It sounds familiar, right? The cliché of the family man with a steady, well-paying job and responsible sedan who all of a sudden hits 40 and buys a leather jacket and red convertible, and quits showing up to work. The woman who’s been completely committed to her role as mom, and all of a sudden is like, “Hold up…where did I go?” The church-going homebody who comes home one day with a tattoo and a ticket to Dubai. The free-spirited hippie who decides at 40 that she wants the picket fence and sweater-set after all.
Most of the times, we know this as The Mid-Life Crisis.
Only us astrologers know that maybe there’s a planetary reason for it: The Neptune Square.
To ground this in something personal, I’ve been in the midst of my Neptune Square for the past couple years (though I didn’t know that was even a thing it as I was going through the heart of it) and I have been jokingly tell my husband that I start every single day writing the same thing in my journal:
What am I doing with my life?
Heavy stuff for such a whimsical planet!
And it kind of felt like it came out of nowhere. I was cruising along. Living my best life as a New York Times bestselling romance author (casual flex), something I’d wanted since I was about eight. And then all of a sudden around 39ish, something … shifted. It was no big epiphany (Neptune’s not like that), but more of a slow feeling of … maybe not discontent, so much as a sudden lack of obsession with what I thought was my dream.
And I think they were my dream. I don’t think I was lying to myself or unhappy in my 30s. And I’m 42 now, and actively writing another rom-com. All I can say for sure is that I found myself in a really confused and painful place right around 40. Every morning felt like I was waking up wanting something different, but I couldn’t quite see what through a relentless fog. I felt lost. Like there was something bigger and unknown for me out there, but that I just couldn’t see.
For some people, this is making room in their life for self-exploration and new “just for fun hobbies,” to go vegan, or sober, or to make their whole identity about marathons. Others might return to or explore religion for the first time, others find themselves in nature. And yes, others buy the cliché car, or get the tattoo in desperate attempt to scratch the elusive itch. To feel the void that’s always just out of clarity’s reach.
As far as how I finally found myself? Well, let’s just say that it’s finally making sense to me why, after a lifetime of rolling my eyes at astrology and horoscopes, and standing firmly in the camp of “prove it with science or get out,” I find myself immersed in all things tarot, witchy, and astrology.
Neptune is often about spirituality, and for me it definitely was.
My husband, I think, has struggled with my transformation. He used to be married to a woman who would laugh alongside him with the idea of Sedona, AZ being a vortex. A woman who had never even checked her horoscope, much less write them. Who didn’t have very specific thoughts of the Four of Swords card in tarot.
But these days, days, an entire section of our bookshelf is taken up with astrology books and tarot cards. He actually knows not just what VC moon is, but when it is, because I tell him every morning over coffee. He knows his own moon sign, and I don’t think he’s happy about that he knows it. (Though he’s a Virgo Sun and Capricorn Rising, so who can blame his skepticism…).
His journey is different, but no less present, in that subtle, but insidious way that is Neptune’s nature. My husband doesn’t believe in astrology, and that’s just fine by me, but I do. So I know his exact Neptune placement, and that he hasn’t been immune to The Change. His experience looks more like new and quiet boundaries that I don’t think he’s even realized he’s started to set the past couple years. The way he creates and protects time to be reflective and creative, while simultaneously making less time for small talk and shallow social niceties. He spends time spent with a pen and paper instead of on the computer, and has stocked our bookshelf with philosophy. He’s started saying no more often to other people’s agendas (mine included). Not in a defiant, rebellious kind of way, but more in what I think is his instinctive need to make time for depth instead of expectations.
As an enlightened society, we often brush off these phases as being simply part of the process of getting older. Wiser.
We can blame or attribute it grown, cynicism, or boundaries or “life’s experiences.”
The midlife crisis.
Or, we could pull up our birth chart, learn where Neptune is in the sky, relative to where it was when we were born, and allow the thought to slip in:
“I wonder…”
That is, after all … what Neptune asks of us.
Sagittarius Season
Welcome to Sagittarius season, aka that time of year you find yourself googling “can you learn archery as an adult” unironically and thinking maybe you should get around to that backpacking trip you considered for a hot minute four years ago.
It’s that time of year that wants all of us to forge new paths and say yes to adventure and the unknown.
If you’re new to astrology…
Welcome, newbies! A few things I wish I’d had spelled out plainly when I was first learning …
When I say “Sagittarius season” I simply mean stretch of time that from November 22 to December 21 2025, the sun in tropical astrology (the branch I talk about) is currently passing through the Sagittarius section of the Zodiac.
So, yes any baby born during this window would in fact “be” a Sagittarius, but I want to explain something that I struggled to grasp when I was first learning, even though it feels obvious now:
There’s a difference between Sagittarius season and being a Sagittarius. Pop astrology sometimes treats “the signs” like people or personality traits, and that can be fun, but it’s not really accurate. The Zodiac signs are more like energy; which is why you can have a lot of Sagittarius traits, even if you weren’t born in November/December (one or more of your birth chart’s other placements might be in Sag).
And even if none of the planets or your key points were dancing through Sagittarius when you were born, that doesn’t mean when you’re immune to its effects when a planet passes through Sagittarius now.
What is Sagittarius Season All About
Sagittarius energy is all about expansion and exploration. It often gets sort of over-simplified as the “traveler” energy, as though all of us will suddenly itching to hop on a plane, planning optional. But I think of it more as being about momentum. It can be about physical momentum like taking a trip or going somewhere new, but the less-talked about side of Sagittarius is that it can also be about mental and emotional momentum.
Think: fresh ideas, new directions, tackling big questions, or just an overall feeling of bright boldness, even if that’s not our usual nature. Sagittarius follows the introspective Scorpio season, so seeds you were planting during that inward-facing phase (even if you didn’t realize you were planting them) are breaking the surface and seeing the sunlight.
Here’s a personal example:
For the past several months, I’ve been scared to put my astrology-related content out there in public. In the few weeks right Halloween, I went sort of deep into the trenches (think lots of journaling) of trying to get at the root of why; what was holding me back from just… posting. Sharing. Talking about something that honestly gets me really excited.
The why is a whole other blog post for another day, but the short version was: I realized it was fear. Fear of putting myself out there into the world of astrology, tarot, witchcraft … all the woo stuff that has been calling to my soul for a couple years now. And at the root of that fear: fear of being judged for putting myself out there as a spiritual creator. Both from people in my personal life, who are not even remotely into or open to the mystical world, as well as classic imposter syndrome; fear of judgement from astrologers and tarot readers who’ve been at this so much longer than me.
It was a painful realization, and also necessary. And can’t say that the fear is gone, but it’s no coincidence that this past week, I’ve felt an influx of bold, “eff it, let’s just do it” energy. Thank you, Sagittarius season!
For you, it might look different. Maybe you’re wondering if it’s time to a new relationship or apartment. Maybe you suddenly can’t get enough of reading, perhaps in a new genre. It could be a new obsession with a hobby, philosophy, or project.
Or maybe it’s a little vague, a bit of restlessness that you’re not quite sure what to do with or what it wants from you. That’s okay! Make room for the exploration and then follow it!
Think of it this way: Sagittarius’s symbol is the archer. Imagine that you’re the archer. Point your arrow in a new direction, and then follow it.
It could be a detour, or it could be momentum on something you initiated previously, but the key is follow-through.
10 ways to make the most of Sagittarius Season’s Vibes
Book a day trip you’ve talked about for months and never taken.
Take a walk in a direction you don’t normally.
Pick a topic you’re curious about and go down a YouTube rabbit hole.
Rearrange and declutter one corner of your space so it feels less cramped and more open.
Sign up for an online course, an in-person class, or make time to visit a museum you wouldn’t normally.
Compliment someone; not their hair, their shoes, but something you genuinely admire about them.
Try a new brand genre, whether it’s music, podcast, or books.
Plan something fun for a random Tuesday instead of saving everything for weekends.
Dig up that “someday” list and choose one thing to act on in the next 30 days.
Take a different route to the grocery store even if it takes a bit longer; better yet, try a new grocery store!
Whatever it is that’s been calling your name, here’s your permission to get curious, dream big, and take your shot.
Your Compass
Your body is your compass.
That little knot in your stomach?
That’s your body telling you something is amiss.
The moments when your body is still and relaxed, your limbs lose and easy, when you don’t have to remember to take deep breaths? That’s telling you something to.
it knows when you’re at peace.
Pay attention. Pay attention to your body.
It knows when you’re in alignment with where you’re meant to be and who you’re meant to be.
It knows when you’re out of alignment too; when you’re trying to fold yourself into a role that doesn’t fit. Or trying to expand into a place that isn’t yours.
The next time your mind or the rest of the world is insisting one thing, but your chest feels tight, at the thought, take note. Pay attention. Listen.
Your body is a compass. Trust its direction.
Let Go
Dear Intorvert,
Let go.
Of the guilt of letting a message linger while you read a book, took a walk, watered your plants, or just existed. Of the guilt for letting the call go to voicemail.
Let go of guilt for saying no to brunch. For leaving the party early. For sending an email to the person who loves to gab on the phone. For passing on the big family reunion because you connect better one-on-one, or in writing. For having one friend instead of twenty. For being the quiet one at the table or meeting because you were thinking instead of talking. For not visiting, not stopping by, not speaking up, not performing.
Let go of the narrative that connection only has one definition. You are allowed to choose honesty over performative presence, and clarity over obligation. Sometimes the kindest thing you can do for the people you love is to show up only when you can show up fully and in the way you can show up fully.
Not half-there, not because it’s expected, not stretched thin, not wishing you were somewhere else.
And the kindest thing you can do for yourself is to stop apologizing for that.
Best easy onion dip that actually tastes like onions
The old classic of stirring a packet of Lipton Onion Soup mix into sour cream to make a quick dip is a standby in our house. “Dinner” is often a huge platter of chopped veggies, Kettle jalapeño chips, and onion dip.
I say dinner in quotes like I’m mocking it, but actually it’s one of my favorite “dinners.”
So, I’m feeling smug to announce that I’ve improved the original with very minimal additional effort. Spending just 2 extra minutes will give you a satisfyingly chunky dip that’s more flavorful, more balanced, and more visually pleasing than the basic version.
What You Need
sour cream, 16oz
Lipton onion soup mix, 1 packet
red onion, 1/2 (more if you’re feeling bold, less if you’re delicate)
everything bagel seasoning, I use this one, but I don’t think it really matters
a bowl of some kind, we just mix ours directly in the food-storage container we’ll put in the fridge later and save a bowl.
What You Do
Stir your Lipton soup mix into the sour cream until well mixed
Chop or dice 1/2 a red onion. Pretty small, but not minced. Don’t overthink it. Stir the diced onion into the sour cream mixture.
Add several aggressive shakes of everything bagel seasoning. I don’t measure, and you shouldn’t either. Trust your heart.
Serve with veggies, crackers, chips, or as I just did, scooped onto Triscuits with a glass of rosé while standing over the kitchen sink like a god damn lady.
Some Thoughts
You can eat it right away, but if you’re serving it to guests, give it 30 or so minutes in the fridge first. This will give the dry bits in the Lipton soup mix a chance to rehydrate so nobody gets any “gritty” bites. That said, we never wait that long when it’s just the two of us, and regret nothing.
Yes, 1/2 a red onion is going to seem like a lot, but listen, onion dip should taste like onion. Adding real onion adds flavor, texture, and the bite of raw onion helps cut the richness of the sour cream in a good way for a more balanced dip.
But you can do less onion if you want. Or more! Be crazy.
You can also soak the onion in ice water for a bit to chill it out, literally and figuratively.
Bonus: onion has nutrients and antioxidants that are good for you.
Could you do an onion varietal other than red onion? I don’t see why not.
Can you even taste the Everything Bagel Seasoning? I honesty couldn’t say, but I’m not also not willing to omit it next time either. At the very least it makes the dip look like it’s more complex than it actually is and poppy seeds add a touch of elite snobbery that is most welcome in a dip made from a powder found in the soup aisle.
August Slipped Away
“August” isn’t my favorite Taylor Swift song, but I’ve always loved this line:
August slipped away like a bottle of wine.
And as I write this in late August, the line feels even more poignant.
I’m relatively outspoken about the fact that I am not a summer person. I’m not really a sun person. I’ll take a cloudy day over a sunny one, a rainy day over a cloudy. I do not like warm weather, and I loathe hot weather.
Still, for the most part, I made it a point this summer to let summer be summer, to find things to enjoy about it. I wrote a whole post about my intent here.
Months later, as summer* comes to a close, I think I did a pretty good job. I’m not going to say that my heart hasn’t lit up the past couple days which have been rainy and in the 60s here in NYC. Or that I didn’t watch this video by my favorite slow living YouTuber and immediately want to bake something with pumpkin (the fact that I like neither baking nor pumpkin says it all).
But mostly I went out of my way to find things to enjoy about summer in the city, and succeeded.
The way the sunlight crept into our bedroom at 5am, and the spectacular sunrises that often followed. The regular visits to our neighborhood bar where everyone knows our name (I know, I know) on a hot sticky day, where it’s almost entirely locals at the bar, sharing the same, “It’s hot as hell, but we’re home” kind of camaraderie.
I discovered my perfect summer top. This tank from LuluLemon which is technically a running top, but add a necklace and a skirt and it’s as “going out” friendly as it is gym-friendly.
(Trust me, the mesh at the top can be either sporty OR fancy…though by “going out” I mostly mean to the local bar mentioned above…)
We have a little cheap bistro-type table in our bedroom with two really uncomfortable chairs. It mostly doubles as a recording studio when one of us needs to be on a call/zoom or video without bothering the other person in the main part of the apartment that serves as living room/office/dining.
But this summer we’ve brought cocktails, a scented candle and conversation to that little table, watching both sunsets and thunderstorms over the Hudson while tackling all those big topics that lurk beneath the surface without us really realizing it until they’re out.
What are we doing with our lives? Are we responsible for other people’s own emotions? Is it selfish to tether our happiness to other people? And is it selfish to choose what brings us peace? Are we supposed to love our work, or are we meant to separate out work from play? Is AI ruining the world, or saving it? Why has life gotten SO much better since we distanced ourselves from the news?
Light, casual stuff like that.
Anth’s little indoor garden is thriving. My art cart has gotten daily use. I love my summer quilt a weird amount. Toast in the morning. Salmon for lunch. Whispering Angel Rosé. Golf is on every weekend, afternoons and evenings spent reading by daylight, no lamps required.
August slipped away like a bottle of wine.
I’m more aware this year that summer is coming to a close, but for once, I’m not trying to hasten it away.
I won’t miss it. But I’m glad it was here.
* My soul lives by meteorological summer, which ends on August 31st, not astronomical summer which ends September 22. I live in a world in which September = autumn.
gezellig
gezellig (adjective)
noun form: gezelligheid
A Dutch word without a perfect English translation. It’s more of a vibe—a sense of warm contentment.
Think: groups of of friends laughing in a bustling bar on a rainy night. Curled up the couch beside your favorite person with a good book and a flickering candle. A thick piece of toast and a cup of tea.
It’s about a place, a moment, a feeling that makes you want to linger.
Further reading: https://dutchwafflecompany.us/blogs/blog/what-does-gezellig-mean
Eat The Frog
Eat the Frog is a productivity approach created by author Brian Tracey, author of Eat That Frog.
[ Eat That Frog has always felt a strange word choice to my mind, so I always refer to it as Eat the Frog, but the concepts are identical ]
It involves choosing the most crucial, challenging item on your to do list, and doing that first.
This ensures that you don’t procrastinate by doing the easier/more fun tasks and risk “the frog” getting pushed to tomorrow. It means that your day will feel like “smooth sailing” after the frog’s out of the way, no looming sense of dread.
In practice: Simply write your to do list for the day, then circle the task that you’re dreading the most (because it feels hard or unpleasant), and do that first.
A personal note: If anyone were to ask me how I published 40+ books within a 10 year span, I’d attribute it to Eat The Frog. When I’m on deadline, my daily wordcount always comes first (well, after my dog’s needs, and if I had kids, after theirs). But I don’t check email, or social media, or the news, or even my text messages until the writing is done. I don’t do laundry, unload the dishwasher, I don’t even shower until the daily wordcount is done.
Writing is hard, or at least it is for me, therefore writing must come first.
The good stuff
The good stuff.
A passport full of stamps. Big family gatherings. Kids on the honor roll and varsity soccer team. Brunch plans. Dinner parties full of laughter that last until midnight. Book club, the New Year’s Eve party, the weekly Friday pizza after the softball game. Getting the promotion, hosting the fundraiser. A full holiday table. The annual beach trip with your best friends, the surprise party for the milestone birthday, the backyard barbecues, the tickets to that concert. Catching up with someone over coffee, trying that new restaurant everyone’s talking about, baby showers, bridal showers, themed costume parties …
These, we are told, are the moments. The ones to savor, chase, cherish. The ones that go on the holiday card, the social media posts. The ones you rattle off when asked “what have you been up to?”
You know. The good stuff.
And maybe you enjoy some of these, or all of these.
Or maybe your favorite moments, the ones that you savor, chase, and cherish, look different.
Maybe your idea of the perfect day is a completely open calendar. Perhaps that’s your idea of the perfect month.
Maybe you’d love to spend weekend nights with your favorite TV characters while texting “your Person,” even if they’re seated right beside you. Not just some weekend nights. Most of them. All of them.
Perhaps you love to travel locally, or alone, or not at all. Maybe your idea of the perfect holiday involves pajamas, a really good sandwich, and peaceful solitude.
Maybe your closest and most cherished friendship centers around mailing them books you think they’ll love. Perhaps you love best from afar, or connect best through handwritten letters or funny postcards instead of in-person conversation.
Maybe the best thing about your year was finally finding the perfect bedding and getting consistently good sleep. Perhaps it was filling a sketchbook cover to cover, or your kids discovering the joy of a pillow fort that lasted a full week. Hours spent alone in your garden, toiling over the manuscript you’re meant to write, watching the sunrise and the sunset.
Perhaps your love language is inside jokes exchanged via text message. Or being given unlimited space. Or that person who never forgets to say Happy Birthday even if you don’t talk to them the rest of the year.
Maybe you feel intense joy in cooking the same meal over and over, or watching the rain, declining the phone call, or having a corner of the house that’s entirely your own. Perhaps it’s a really good peach. Your favorite song on repeat.
Don’t let anyone try to tell you these are the in-between moments, these are the moments.
Only you get to define your good stuff.
You are not the power supply
Dear Introvert,
You’ve heard that introverts need alone time in order to “recharge,” and you know this to be true.
A party on Friday leaves you craving a silent Saturday. Lunch with a talkative friend leaves you wilted. A family visit leaves you longing to hibernate for a month.
What you may not have heard:
You are under no obligation to have your batteries drained in the first place.
You are not the socket for other people’s recharge, leaving them full and you empty.
There is no rule that says you must operate at 50% in the name of being sociable. That you have to let yourself get down to 25% in the name of being a “good and caring person.”
Alone time is not merely a recovery aid, a reward for “going to the thing.” You are allowed to make alone time your default state. You are allowed to make choices that enable you to stay at 100%
Save your batteries for the absolute “musts,” and let the rest of the world find their own power supply.
You are not broken
This is the first entry in my Dear Introvert series—a collection of mini-essays dedicated to the quiet ones. I’ve felt called to write it for months, and am finally gathering the courage to put out there.
Dear Introvert,
You have been called quiet. Shy. Urged to “come out of your shell,” raise your hand, be more social, go more places, do more things.
To speak up, connect, to participate.
As though the only way to participate in being a human is out loud, face-to-face. As though if you just changed this tiny little thing of your entire personality, then you’d really thrive.
This is wrong. You do not need to become louder or more sociable or to meet other people where they are in order to be whole or worthy. To live a fulfilling life.
You are not less because you’re quiet. You’re not faulty because you like being alone. You are not flawed because you’d rather dream in the dark than dance in the light.
You do not need fixing. You are not broken.