Sweet Relief

My physical therapist finds a needle in a haystack, fun with twenty-somethings, and the annoying mom emotions that come with realizing your kid has been alive for a generation.

Readers,

How are you? Hit reply and tell me what's new – and hopefully good – in your world.

By now, you are all not only aware of my migraine saga, but quite possibly bored out of your skulls hearing about it. But guess what! There has been a positive development! Monday morning I went to physical therapy and told my PT that I was doing everything he told me to do, but it was most assuredly not working, and I've had it up to here. Then I probably said I'd rather have a sumo wrestler crush my skull at this point. He said, "Do you want to try dry needling? Let's try that."

You know your girl has got to be pretty desperate if she is eager to have someone stick little needles in her head and neck for relief. But by God, once those needles went in, I started feeling what could only be described as joy, mingled with slight discomfort and concern, but mostly joy.

It was almost like the beginning of "Bohemian Rhapsody" by Queen:

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality
Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see
I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy
Because I'm easy come, easy go
Little high, little low
Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to me, to me

And then the PT twisted a needle or two and my feeling was more like:

So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye?
So you think you can love me and leave me to diiiiie?
Oh, baby, can't do this to me, baby
Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here

But then he took the needles out, and I sat up and felt different.

Nothing really matters, anyone can see
Nothing really matters
Nothing really matters to me

Was this...sweet relief? Two needle sessions in, and with apologies to Freddie Mercury, I sure hope so.

Needless to say, I've been laying a little low this week, outside of taking my kid (and some of said kid's art school buddies) out to a twentieth birthday dinner on Tuesday night. We went to a Japanese BBQ place, and it didn't take long before the table was covered in more dishes than I could have imagined. It was A LOT, and the grill felt too small for six people's worth of grillables.

At any rate, I truly enjoyed sitting back and watching these kids just be their kind, bright, funny and hungry selves. I'm so grateful that these kids have found each other, especially with all the stresses and demands of art school. In life, you need to have a tribe to survive. And this is one solid tribe. I also sincerely appreciate that they didn't make me feel like that annoying mom who could have just showed up when it was time to pay the bill. As a matter of fact, it might have been the first time I've thrown a birthday party for my kid and felt like I could just enjoy it, and not worry about who had enough cake, or got a treat bag, or whatever it is I used to do.

Which is not to say I still didn't think of those parties of yore this week. The awful polka dot smash cake I made for Avery's first birthday. The amazing hula monkey cake a friend of mine made for birthday number two. Avery, full of sugar, stood at the top step of our porch that day, hands raised to the sky, and screamed "I'm in the clouds!!" You certainly were, my child. And then you crashed. How many pinatas and crafts and gift bags did I think about in those years? How many times could I have just reined it in? How many times did I justify it by telling myself "I just have one child." One. There would only be one first birthday, one tenth birthday, one sixteenth birthday, and so on in this house. Let's make them all count.

I haven't just been thinking about these batshit kiddie parties I've thrown over the years. I've been thinking about the privilege and joy it has been to raise a young person who is strong and brave and smart and creatively gifted...someone who thinks of others, and considers the big picture...someone I enjoy talking to and spending time with...someone who fills me with a tremendous sense of pride because of the person they continue to become. Right now, I feel kind of like Beyonce watching Blue Ivy steal the show on night one of the Cowboy Carter tour.

This is obviously a big week for maternal pride.

So that's this week in my little world. Here's hoping you have been able find sources of relief, delight, and wonder in yours too.

Paige

Writing prompt: Think about a moment in your life when you have needed relief. What was that moment? What relief did you need? How did you get it? Was it easy, unexpected, or something else?

We are not born creative or destructive. Each one of us has the ability to tear down and to create, the choice to leave the world worse than we found it, or better.

-- Yo-Yo Ma

Endnotes

What I'm writing

It has been said that living well is the best revenge. And to be sure, model-turned-wellness entrepreneur Martha Graeff has lived well. But her story is not as simple as that, as I write in this month's Aventura Magazine. Martha is an interesting, purpose-driven woman whose long and hard-fought journey to self-acceptance ultimately inspired her to launch the a line of drinkable longevity shots for women called Happy Aging. Once upon a time not too long ago, a man told her she was past her prime. As much as his words may have stung in the moment, it looks like Martha is having the last laugh. Good for her. You can read more about her by clicking here.

What I'm excited about

Chef and Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat author Samin Nosrat, and musician-podcaster Hrishikesh Hirway's podcast "Home Cooking" will be coming back this fall with a full new series of shows. I fell in love with this podcast during the pandemic, when everyone was trying to figure out how to make good meals with what could get their hands on in stores, or what they had in their pantries. "Home Cooking" was originally intended to be eight episodes, but people had so much fun listening to it (It's not just helpful, it's hilarious) and had so many cooking questions that after that original run, the duo realized they needed release new shows here and there to appease their hungry fans. For me, it never felt like enough though, so I'm happy they'll be back on a regular basis soon!

By the way...

Samin has a new cookbook coming out this fall too. It's called Good Things: Recipes and Rituals to Share with People You Love. She spoke recently about how she didn't want it to be a cookbooky cookbook because that's not what she's about. She wanted to give people solid, scrumptious recipes with ideas on how to change them up a little. But she also wanted to give shopping tips and ideas for how to bring about more connection in your day-to-day life. The book comes out September 16. Until then, try my favorite Salt Fat Acid Heat recipe, her Buttermilk Marinated Roast Chicken. So, SO good.

What I'm watching

Season two of the Disney+ series "Andor." This is one of the few Star Wars series I will watch because it's well-written, aesthetically cool, and has a timely plot, even though it takes place in a galaxy far, far away. Come for the idealistic rebels trying to topple a fascist empire. Stay for the icy Empire-adjacent couple trying to figure out what to wear (out of their respective spare, neutral-hued wardrobes) and how to smile convincingly before his overbearing mother comes for dinner. There's also a wedding (not the aforementioned ice king and queen's) that is opulent, and strange, and in my opinion, really good for a laugh. So yeah, "Andor" is fun in some parts. But it is also very of the moment. I sure do hope the good guys win.

What I'm thinking about

Independent bookstore owner Annie B. Jones' memoir Ordinary Time: Lessons Learned While Staying Put came out this week. In it, she writes with great charm about how she once dreamed of being a big-city writer, having adventures all over the globe, but wound up being a bookseller and podcaster in a small South Georgia town. For her, staying put has been a bold life maneuver, and she's been able to achieve her dreams by doing just that. In some, but not all, ways, Jones's story reminded me of twenty-something Paige, who also thought New York City was the only place to be if you wanted to be a writer. I've since learned otherwise, and am grateful for that. Bloom where you're planted, right?

On top of my teetering TBR pile

Josephine Baker's Secret War by Hanna Diamond

A horse is a horse...

Tomorrow is the Kentucky Derby. While I understand that horse racing is problematic, I do like derby days for the following two reasons: 1. I like ponies, and 2. The event is over quickly. As I was looking at the odds last night, I noticed some interesting, and perhaps coincidental, things. They are: a. Journalism at 3-1 odds is the favorite (I'm talking about the horse, not the industry). b. Sovereignty is also up there (say what?), and c. Publisher is getting some decent odds too. How is this possible with American Promise as a longshot bet? I'm not sure if I'm just talking about the horse with this one, but we'll see what tomorrow brings...

Where I hope you'll donate this week

The Trump Administration plans to eliminate federal funds for suicide prevention for LGBTQ+ youth. Please consider a donation to The Trevor Project, which provides counseling services to LGBTQ+ youth 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year.