Bits 'n bobs, updated
Including a new best cookie
NOTE: You’re receiving this email for a second time because I accidentally sent the first one with an outdated header that included last month’s Write-Along date. Those pesky headers. I’ve fixed it. Now, carry on… xx
Hello from nine days into a new year, a sentence that I initially mistyped as “Hello from nine years into a new year.” That is all I will say about 2026 at this juncture! But here are six things I’d like to tell you.
The January Write-Along is this Sunday, January 11. Paid subscribers, a Zoom link will land in your inbox momentarily. ➡️ Please note that I’ve bumped the time up by one hour, from 12:00pm Pacific to 11:00am Pacific. ⬅️ I apologize if this poses an inconvenience. When I set the date and time, I didn’t know that my older kid’s band has a midday show on Sunday. Thank you for understanding.
I’ve added a March session of my online workshop “From Memory to Story,” because the January one filled so fast. It’ll meet from March 3 to 20, on Tuesdays and Fridays, from 9:30am to 11:30am Pacific. This course is for writers of all skill levels, even writers who don’t call themselves ‘writers.’ Over six class meetings, we’ll discuss elements of the craft of memoir, practice the skill of close reading, and apply what we learn in generative exercises, rebuilding memories on the page and drawing meaning from the raw material of our lives. You’ll receive constructive feedback from me and your fellow writers — and you’ll actually enjoy it, I guarantee.
If you live in Seattle, you may be familiar with a vintage/thrift store called Thread Hunter. Until last week, I’d somehow failed to notice that Thread Hunter opened a shop in Ballard last spring, in the small storefront on 22nd Avenue NW that was recently a dessert shop and, before that, Johnny’s Ballard Shoe Service, where the owner’s name was not Johnny but Tony and you’d be greeted at the door by an enormous weimaraner named Major. Anyway, last week we went into Ballard to see if Tactics, the board shop, happened to have any brown corduroys for my older kid. They did not, but on the walk back to the car, we passed Thread Hunter, and on a whim, went in. Silas1 quickly found two shirts and a pair of pants — not cords, but brown! While he was in the dressing room, I sat scrolling on a loveseat in the corner of the shop. An older couple, a man and a woman, were flipping through the racks. They looked smart and lightly rumpled, stylish in the way of retired academics, maybe professors emeriti of history. But it was the woman’s pants that caught my eye: they were washed black denim with an elastic waistband, side patch pockets, and a tapered leg that hit just above the ankle. When I complimented her, she blushed under her fleece hat and said, “Oh! They’re from Amazon, if you’ll believe it. But I love them so much, I have six pairs now: black, tan, blue, red — I can’t even remember them all!”
not her legs, but: the pants Because it was now clear that we were soul mates, she then sat down beside me, showed me the brand name of her pants, cooed at Gilbert (who was sleeping on the rug at our feet), and told me all about her own beloved dog Lichen, who died 35 years ago. Eventually her boyfriend — as I’d now learned he was — appeared beside her, ready to get going. As she rose to join him, I think I caught her name: Dina. Deana. Maybe Gina. Tina? There wasn’t time to ask. Silas was waiting for me at the cash register. Dina: if you read this, hi! Email me! Anyway, back at home, I looked up the pants online. They’re made by a wholesale-only company called Jess & Jane — “Founded by Jim and Donna” (??), says the website — and as it turns out, they’re not denim. They’re cotton/spandex, but they look like denim until you touch them. I bought a pair, and they arrived earlier this week. Dina did not lead me astray. They cost more than most pants on Amazon, but they’re made in the USA, come in several colors, and are so comfortable and stretchy, you could sleep in them (if you’re someone who can sleep with pants on, which I am not). They’re all-around A+ pants. That said, I want to be clear: in all other cases, down with Amazon. Silas and I loved Thread Hunter so much, we’ve vowed to stop by every couple of weeks to see what’s new. And they’re opening a speakeasy in the back on February 1! Thread Hunter forever.
The biggest-hit meal in our household in recent weeks was Melissa Clark’s One-Pan Orzo with Spinach and Feta (gift link). It takes the flavors of spanakopita and transposes them into a sprightly bowl of pasta. Silas says it tastes like summer. I say it tastes better than ever in January. I first made it a couple of years ago, put it in the regular rotation for a while, forgot about it, then suddenly remembered it last week. (Something in the air?? Bizarrely, despite the recipe being 5+ years old, it headlined today’s NYT Cooking newsletter.) We always eat it as a main dish and it’s plenty satisfying, but it would also be terrific alongside roasted chicken or anything grilled. I make the recipe as written.
The biggest-hit baked good in our household in recent weeks has been Grand Central Baking Company’s Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies. The recipe comes from The Grand Central Baking Book, by Piper Davis and Ellen Jackson, which I’ve owned since it was published in 2009. But I hadn’t tried this cookie until recently, when Matthew gave me one from a batch baked by his wife Laurie. It is not only a perfect oatmeal chocolate chip cookie; it is a superlative chocolate chip cookie, a standout within the whole category. I’ve made the recipe twice in three weeks, and the second time, we went through 26 cookies in four days. In this house, we LIVE. I’ve made very slight changes to the recipe, and here’s my version, typed up for you. And, as a downloadable PDF:
Inspired by Luisa Weiss, I’ve written three emails to myself and scheduled them to auto-send at points throughout the year that have typically been stressful for me. The emails are short but encouraging. I see them as reminders: either that difficulty is coming and I should plan accordingly, or that whatever feels difficult now has felt difficult before and will eventually end. The first such email will land in my inbox on August 17, with the subject line PREPARE FOR SEPTEMBER. This warning refers not only to the start of the school year, but also to our annual birthday gauntlet: three of our household’s four birthdays take place within a blistering span of ten days in mid-September. The second email is scheduled for September 4, because Septembers are that much too much, and it bears the subject OH BOY SEPTEMBER. It repeats the first email’s commiseration and adds, “You probably think that no one will ever adjust to school. This will pass. It’s just September.” The third email is scheduled for December 2, with the subject CHRISTMAS FEELINGS. It contains a link to a brilliant (paywalled (and worth the price)) essay published this past December by Anne Helen Petersen, called “Some General Theories About Why You Might Feel Like Crap Right Now.” Anne’s piece helped me — and Ash too — do a lot of useful thinking and talking about our family’s holiday priorities. Maybe I’ll write more about that later in 2026.
Hey-o! — nine days in, she’s already got plans.
Here goes, and thank you,
M.
I’m proud to reintroduce you to my older child, Silas. He’s the greatest. Protect trans kids! God, for fuck’s sake, please.
❤️❤️❤️ Silas ❤️❤️❤️
Thanks for the cookie recipe & for introducing Silas!