Volodymyr Zelenskiy and WTF chocolate chip cookies
Strong Jawline and I were running along the bay yesterday morning, just leaping like gazelles with no stiffness, pain, perimenopause, or plantar fasciitis:
No, we weren’t. That was Strong Jawline, huddled under a blanket on the couch for three days after throwing his back out gardening, and that was me, buying three bottles of rosé in one week because it’s SUMMER BITCHES.
Let’s talk about these young people who are sober or “sober curious.” It’s a thing — it’s a trend — it’s a cultural phenomenon. It’s such a thing/trend that vineyards apparently are seeing reduced bottom lines (unsurprisingly, the Press Democrat in Sonoma County begs to differ).
Every once in a while, this kind of media gets to me and I take a break from wine, which I did recently, for a very long and boring month. No matter how many times I do this, I learn the same thing — IT’S NOT THE WINE THAT’S MAKING ME TIRED. It’s these motherfuckers in my house who can’t wipe a counter or a toilet seat, a school district in turmoil (what’s up, SFUSD!), gun violence, the end of democracy, and maternal mortality.
If I’m not tipsy between the hours of 7 and 10 p.m., my options are MORE WORK. WOO-HOO. NO THANKS.
Also, if these Gen Z idiots don’t want to know the pleasure of having drunken sex standing up in a bathroom with the best man at someone else’s wedding (TWO WEDDINGS, thank you very much), thank you for leaving the top shelf for Gen X. Have fun staffing for senators or whatever. We’ll be huddled at a back table laughing at something you will never understand.
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Perimenopause, am I right?
As with periods, pregnancy, childbirth, postpartum-ness, and parenting, no one tells you shit, except Heather Corinna and Catherine Newman. Hot flashes? Sort of, I guess? Mood swings? How can I tell? Decreased libido? JUST THE OPPOSITE.
A few times recently, I’ve had a week to two weeks where I absolutely cannot calm my horndog mind. It feels like something has been knocked loose, like something’s fizzing madly right before it fizzes out, and because I work in news, the objects of my desire have a theme. This is what makes my nipples stand up these days:
Volodymyr Zelenskiy — ARE YOU SERIOUS IN THAT TIGHT GREEN T-SHIRT
Department of Justice special counsel Robert Hur — YOU CAN SAY ANYTHING YOU WANT ABOUT BIDEN JUST SAY IT TO ME
Special counsel Jack Smith DOES HE NOT LOOK LIKE DANIEL DAY-LEWIS ALSO HE’S DEFENDING DEMOCRACY
Work is a MINEFIELD. Although Hur has faded from the news cycle, hardly a day goes by that these other two — and dozens like them — are not popping up in stories I’m editing. I’ve thought seriously about hate-fucking Todd Blanche and have had dirty thoughts about Judge Juan Merchan. I have no idea what my body is going to do next, so for now I’m hoping for fewer world leaders who look like Emmanuel Macron and Justin Trudeau and more who look like Javier Milei.
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On a sunny weekend morning, I take Gargantubaby, who is six for another month now, out for croissants and egg sandwiches at our local coffee shop. I watch him try to open a bottle of bubbly water the wrong way.
Other way, I say.
He looks concerned. I thought you said lefty loosey, righty tighty, he says.
Right, I say. This way’s left. This way’s right.
Oh, he says happily. I guess that's why I can never open anything.
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Gargantubaby is in the bath. I’m thirsty, he says.
OK, I say, turning to get him water. Then I stop — I learned something in therapy. So you’re thirsty, I say to him. Do you have a request?
Gargantubaby looks droll. Can I have some water, he says flatly.
MAY I have some water, I say, then raise my palms, expectant about the magic word.
MAY I have some water, Gargantubaby says, OBVIOUSLY.
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SJ says, I went looking for you because my camera came so I thought I could go running with you, so I went into the bathroom, and there was pee in the toilet. And I thought, ugh, Jenny. Then I saw there was a puddle of pee on the floor and the seat was up. It was me!
SJ laughs hysterically. I roll my eyes.
At least one person finds that funny, I say.
Gargantubaby is sitting between us on the couch.
Gargantubaby would know it's not my pee, I say. The night before, we were reading "It's So Amazing" and learning about menstruation and he knows I have my period right now.
What else is coming out of my vagina right now? I say to Gargantubaby, expecting he will say “blood” since I’m trying to normalize periods.
Annn-geeeerrrrr! says Gargantubaby.
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In case anyone forgot I have the best kid, I take him to the de Young Museum, where an exhibit has participants take off their shoes and enter a pale-wood hut, write a letter at a desk and leave it there. I write something terse to my parents and look over to see what he's written:
TO EVERYBODY WHO HAS A DISABILITY
DIFFERENT IS SPECIAL
YOU ARE SPECIAL
WHO IS THIS KID I HAVE BEEN WORKING SO HARD TO MAKE HIM TAKE ON MY ENEMIES AS HIS ENEMIES BUT NO THE LIGHT OF GOD SHINES THROUGH HIS EYES
Another night, we're scrolling through Instagram Reels because I no longer care about his development, when a video shows a man and a woman in fancy dress posing for cameras at a press event. Her brown legs and arms and face are splotched with pale pink.
"Oh, she has vitiligo," I say, wondering why I can't go FIVE FUCKING MINUTES WITHOUT A TEACHING MOMENT COME ON. "It's a skin condition."
"That just makes her pretty," he says without missing a beat.
MY WORK HERE IS DONE HARVARD AND UNITED NATIONS COME GET YOUR BOY.
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I’m “IN CONVERSATION” with THE ONE THE ONLY CATHERINE NEWMAN perhaps you’ve heard of “We All Want Impossible Things” and her new novel, “Sandwich,” from basically everywhere — she is so starred and recommended you need sunglasses to talk to her. She’s funny as shit and an in-person event with her is fun, not boring. You will laugh because I can’t be serious for more than a few minutes and she is The Same. It’s July 25 at 7pm PT at West Portal Books, my favorite bookstore in the entire Bay Area.
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I made cookies for the first time in forever and they were so good! Real Simple is my Brokeback Mountain — I can’t quit them — and the recipe is from there. You need:
2/3 cup (10 2/3 TB) cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-in. cubes.
2/3 cup packed light brown sugar
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 large egg
1 large egg yolk
4 tsp. pure vanilla extract
2 2/3 cups all-purpose flour
2 tsp. cornstarch
1 3/4 tsp. baking powder
1 1/2 tsp. kosher salt
1 tsp. baking soda
1 cup milk chocolate chips
1 cup semisweet chocolate chips
You need to:
Stir together the butter and sugars in a large bowl. Use your fingertips to pinch and press butter cubes into sugar mixture. Beat with an electric mixer on medium-low speed until combined and fluffy, 2 to 3 minutes. Add egg, yolk, and vanilla; beat on medium-low speed just until combined, 15 to 30 seconds.
Whisk flour, cornstarch, baking powder, kosher salt, and baking soda in a medium bowl. Add flour mixture to butter mixture; beat on low speed just until combined. Fold in chocolate chips. Cover dough and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes and up to 24 hours.
Preheat oven to 350F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper. Shape dough into 10 balls YOU HEARD THAT RIGHT THIS ENTIRE MIXTURE MAKES 10 COOKIES THEY’RE HUGE (about 1/3 cup each). Place balls 3 ins. apart on baking sheets.
Bake until edges are lightly golden and set, tops are cracked and centers seem slightly underdone, 14 to 16 minutes.
Here the recipe says to press more chocolate chips into the tops, but believe me, they don’t need it. Let cookies cool on baking sheets for 5 minutes, then transfer to wire racks to cool completely, about 1 hour HA. HA HA. EAT COOKIES WHEN THEY’RE WARM OUT OF THE OVEN TO WARD OFF THE COMING APOCALYPSE. LOOK HOW HUGE THEY ARE:
