A list for August

Reclaiming joy, summer food obsessions, and quiet activism.

“We’ve all spent the last year and more being allowed to want only the most basic things. To be healthy. To be safe. To not be punished all day every day for life choices made under a different set of rules. Being suddenly flung out of survival mode and into something else and being unsure of how to navigate feels like stepping off a boat and attempting to rediscover your land legs. The confidence will come after some strange lurching. Before I can say exactly what I want and where I want to go, I need to get comfortable with the fact that I can want. I need to believe it, believe there is joy to be had and it is mine for the taking.”

—Glynnis MacNicol, I’m Mostly Here to Enjoy Myself

In addition to serving up tender baby eggplants, juicy raspberries, and one watermelon the size of my son’s soccer ball, summer has blown through with a series of questions that the humid month of August feels ripe to attempt answering.

As I emerge from my second summer of white space, the questions have been mostly about joy. This is something I’ve struggled to reclaim for myself in recent years, but as I’ve deepened my own inquiry, the world has catapulted joy into the conversation, and it’s palpable.

Can retreating to care for your mental health restore your love for gymnastics? Simone Biles proved it in Paris, and her smile was infectious. So many feels! If you watch her Netflix documentary, you’ll learn that before she started training for the 2024 Olympics, she spent a year going to the gym and doing the basics, just getting back into her body. It was slow, steady, and completely outside the conventional norms of training. Bravo!

Can politics be infused with joy? Kamala Harris and Tim Walz are campaigning on it.

Can hopescrolling overshadow doomscrolling on social media? Maybe. (My friend

Lily Diamond

wrote about this recently here, and it almost makes me want to reinstall the app on my phone.)

Can learning something new revive your soul? A little bit. I’m wrapping up a 7-week pottery class that turned out to be more uncomfortable than I expected, but I’ll write more about that later, I’m sure.

All this to say, I’m feeling… cautiously optimistic? I was more exuberant this time last summer. I had podcast episodes lined up to record and felt all the fresh fall energy. But this year I’m more committed to staying in some kind of writing cocoon for a couple of things I’m working on. And that’s what I love about seasons. They’re gentle containers that leave plenty of room to embrace whatever comes up.

I’m looking forward to being here again, though. To get back into the swing of things, a round-up of good things for August is below.

---

Food obsessions.

— Let’s begin with watermelon salad (pictured up top). Nothing wrong with eating summer fruit over the sink while juice drips down your arm, but adding savory notes is one of my favorite ways enjoy it. A loose guide:

• Cubed watermelon (I like small, 1/2-inch pieces)

• Creamy cheese (feta or goat)

• Nuts (pistachios, toasted pine nuts, pumpkin seeds, etc.)

• Something crunchy (cucumber, cherry tomatoes)

• Something green (microgreens, chopped arugula)

Drizzle some excellent olive oil over the top, season with salt and pepper, and gently toss.

— Cookbook love: This summer I’ve been cooking from my friend Sara Forte’s new book, Around Our Table, and it’s a real gem. I’ve also gone back to a tried-and-true favorite, Small Victories by

Julia Turshen

, and still love the red lentil curry as much as when I first made it.

— I don’t drink a lot of alcohol these days, but have been getting into sparkling waters. My favorite is the brand Aura Bora. I crack open a can most Friday nights when we’re having pizza and watching a movie.

— Have you seen the new season of The Lost Kitchen, called Getting Lost with Erin French? Here’s a trailer. It’s a bit different from previous seasons, and follows Erin’s journey as she drives cross-country to gather inspiration for her restaurant. Big takeaways: You’re never too far along in your career to learn something new or find fresh sources of inspiration.

Literary things.

— Starting a new project can feel daunting. These tips help it feel less scary and more doable.

— I started and did not finish a lot of books this summer, but here are three I enjoyed: Grief is for People by Sloane Crosley, See: Loss. See Also: Love. by Yukiko Tominaga, and The Editor: How Publishing Legend Judith Jones Shaped Culture in America by Sara B. Franklin.

— An idea—stick with me—orgasmic narratives. In this interview, Glynnis MacNicol talks about creating a story arc for her new book (quoted from above) based on the female orgasm versus how a traditional three-act narrative structure mirrors the male orgasm:

“With this book, I encountered real hesitation. Editors asked, “What’s the arc of the story? What’s the solution? What’s the instigating incident?” And I asked, “Why does it have to be that?” That’s not compelling to me. What does it mean to live a life that does not reflect that? What would it look like for a woman just to convey her own experience?”

In said book, she writes:

“Tension, execution, release. The end. … What would a story arc based on the female orgasm look like. Like waves, I imagine. Some bigger and more significant than others, some smaller and gentler, in no particular order.”

— And one reminder:

Quiet activism.

I can’t remember if it was a in book or an Instagram post (maybe both?) but there’s guidance out there to identify your activism “style.” It’s part knowing your personality and part knowing your gifts. Like so many, I’ve been energized by Kamala Harris’s campaign and more hopeful than I’ve ever been about the future. Through the organization Postcards to Swing States, I signed up to remind people to vote this November, which feels like a very writerly and meaningful way to get involved. I’m also waiting for this hat to come back in stock, fingers crossed.

As always, thanks for being here. And tell me how your summer was! Always up for celebrating progress and honoring liminal space in equal measure.

Until next time,
Nicole