VERY IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT:
We’re doing a limited-run water bottle starting today. It has my “What Does Your Urine Say About You?” Chart printed on the side. Is it a reminder to stay hydrated? (yes!) Is it a pee bottle? (up to you!) Is it a conversation piece? (yes!) Can you get one after June 20th, 2025? No. Pre-orders start today, and will close next Friday, June 30th, so if you want one, or know someone who would love one as a gift, here’s where you can order one (or several). Orders will start shipping the first week of August.
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I happened to catch this wonderful short film about the women dory boat guides of the Grand Canyon when I was at Mountainfilm a few weeks ago, and it was one of my favorites. Very excited it’s now on YouTube. (video)
I’ve been reading Michael Estrin’s substack for a while now, and I often find myself laughing at the situations and characters he encounters while doing normal things like going to Chipotle, or in the case of his most recent post, trying to check in for his appointment at the chiropractor. As my wife charitably says whenever we encounter puzzling behavior, “there are many ways of being in the world,” which is way better than my reaction, which is more of a bewildered look, throwing up my hands, and muttering some expletives.
The video for the Talking Heads’ “Psycho Killer” came up in my YouTube feed last week, but I barely glanced at the thumbnail and didn’t click it. And then Hilary sent me the link to it a few days later, and I realized that it was a new video for a 47-year-old song. As one commenter put it: “They waited until Saoirse Ronan was born to make the video. Very professional” (video)
My neighbor poked his head over the fence a few days ago, when the high was in the low 90s here, and said he was surprised that something about me being outside in a long-sleeve shirt. I explained that yes, I am a huge fan of long sleeves in the summer since I spend so much time outside (running). They’re not for everyone, but if I have not used up my lifetime allotment of exposing my skin to the sun, I am damn close, so I prefer long sleeves to slathering on sunscreen (which, if I’m honest, I’m too lazy to do a lot of the time). So I own a lot of sun hoodies, which also protect my neck and ears. My most recent favorite is the Dunescape Mega print one I got from newsletter sponsor Janji—it’s stretchy, the arms are long enough for me to slip my thumbs into the thumb loops and cover my hands, and the pattern means I’m not going to trash it so visibly by wearing it for trail runs under my running vest. It’s available in a bunch of colors in a men’s version and in a women’s version (both M’s and W’s versions have the Dunescape Mega print if you’re into it)
She texted the wrong number asking for advice on what to wear on a first date with a guy, the wrong number guy responded and told her yes, green was as good choice, she wore green, the first date went well, they stayed in touch, and … well, I won’t ruin the ending for you.
I believe Japan does a few things (many things?) better than the United States, and creative manhole covers are one of those things. I was elated but not surprised to see that Major League Baseball collaborated with local artists to create custom manhole covers in honor of the 12 Japanese and Japanese-American players actively playing in the league right now. (thanks, Mitsu)
Look, I am not saying everyone should drink five or more cups of coffee per day, but I’m also not saying people shouldn’t. Anne Kadet, whose Substack is a treasure, interviewed a handful people who drink prodigious amounts of coffee, and it made me feel both happy, less weird, and less alone. And also validated in my choice to make a 9-cup moka pot yesterday afternoon.
Every once in a while—OK, probably every other week—there is a McSweeney’s post that captures my failure to function as a human being in a very specific way, and I read it and laugh, at the story, but more at myself. This most recent one, Welcome To My Well-Stocked Pantry Of Empty Boxes, really hit home just as I was pouring the crumbs of a box of crackers into my mouth while standing in my kitchen.
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