CAKE FOR BREAKFAST: Brownies Are Medicine Now
My grandma passed away on January 18. She was kind and welcoming and swore a lot and bragged about her grandkids more than I think any of us realized. Her death was unexpected, but she wrote her own obituary a while ago. That isn't some kind of dark poetry; she literally wrote her own obituary. She also made clear, handwritten specifications for her funeral arrangements. She said she wanted to have visitations on one day and a church service the next. "You're gonna need two days," she said.
I will think of her when I smell cigarettes or hear the word "rutabaga." I will remember her when my dad calls me on his way home from work, the same time he has called her every day for decades. I will miss her when her yearly phone call and card don't come on my birthday this year or any of the years to come. I will have more tea towels embroidered with the days of the week than I know what to do with. She always gave so much.
I say all of this not because I enjoy grieving out loud or crying in public. (Okay, I like the latter a little bit because I am a sick and twisted dumb dumb who craves both isolation and constant attention!!!) I say this because it makes me wish I had been more gentle with people around me. It makes me wish I hadn't assumed the typical questions or comments were innocuous. "Was it expected?" "Were you close?" "At least you got to see your family." It makes me wish, when I'd learned of other people's loss in the past, that I hadn't avoided talking to them about it, that I hadn't assumed silence was the only way to be supportive. It makes me wish there was a way to say "I'm grieving" without an onslaught of sympathy messages that feel empty and obligatory. It makes me wish there was a way to say "I'm thinking of you" without it sounding obligatory and empty. I say all of this because death is normal and grieving is hard and funerals are kind of gross and somehow, despite it all, people are able to move forward.
My sister Ana has written about grief more elegantly and intimately than I will ever be able to do. You should read that first. Then, when you've had your emotional vegetables, come join me for dessert.
Something I Ate With My Mouth I don't know why it took me until my late 20s to appreciate the single-serving sweets grocery stores sell in their bakery sections but wowow what a life changer. You can legally buy one, fresh(ish) brownie the size a textbook that is covered in frosting and sprinkles and no one will stop you. If you need a guide to picking out the perfect brownie, here's the rubric my sister, Ana, and I followed while choosing ours:
Size: gotta be the biggest boy there
Assumed gooeyness: hard to tell by sight but an important consideration
Frosting type: we went with that Cool Whip-like frosting over the buttery kind that gets crunchy and hard because we love ourselves and our bodies
Sprinkle variety: must be rainbow sprinkles. Ana prefers the round lil sprinkle balls over the long sprinkles. I trust her judgment.
Emotional connection: the brownie must spark joy
The brownie we chose ended up being more cake-y that gooey, which did make it a slightly inferior brownie. However, brownie beggars can't be brownie choosers. Grocery store brownies are best enjoyed from a hotel bed, with your hands, while watching both Fyre Fest documentaries with your sister. The experience is healing.
Something I Ate With My Eyes
If you enjoyed such SNL hits as "Back Home Ballers" and "First Got Horny 2 U" or if have good taste and access to the internet, you should watch The Other Two. It's a show about two siblings whose 13-year-old brother gets famous overnight. Please watch it because it is good and I want to keep watching good things.
Something I Ate With My Ears
I've been traveling a lot the past two weeks. It sounds sexy and cool when put in vague terms, but the majority of that travel was an 11-hour drive to Wisconsin through shitty weather where I would panic breathe through my teeth whenever I tried to change lanes. Being chill? Never heard of her.
I listened to a lot of podcasts on my drive. I started and finished Dirty John and Dr. Death which are spooky scary murder podcasts that DID make me question EVERY INTERACTION past, present, and future. I also relistened to a lot of episodes of Las Culturistas which is a funny podcast about the culture that will make you say "culture is for me." Start with the episodes with Joel Kim Booster, Natalie Walker, or Patti Harrison if you're new here.
Not to be so random but I also like music. Is that a cool thing to say??? Here are songs that helped keep me sane while driving:
Lost Queen by Pharrell but mostly just the first three minutes.
You may be wondering why there are only 5 songs on this list. It is because I don't understand moderation and when I like a song I do listen to it 2 or 3 or 17 times in a row. This is very Paris of me.
Some Things I Made For You To Eat
I was in this past Sunday's edition of the New York Times with a piece about what body language means. I AM THE NEWS THAT'S FIT TO PRINT.
Also, I was on a recent episode of the podcast Talkward with Marty Dundics, if you want to know what my voice sounds like (nasally and quiet).
Stay hungry. Surround yourself with people who make you full.
Mia
Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Blog, A Picture That Is Maybe My Whole Sexuality???