two things can be true

protect your peace and have more fun

Jan 07, 2025

Hello and happy soft shell crab January to all who observe!

If you need a quick refresher, soft shell crabbing is surprisingly not about indulging in copious amounts of shellfish with mustard sauce, though it can be. Rather, it involves the period of transition in which we, as humans, also require a phase of metaphorical molting in order to shed what no longer serves us, and grow into a new, stronger ~~shell~~ iteration of ourselves. A thicker skin.

In other words, I give myself, (and you), permission to think of January as more of a Sunday than a Monday, so to speak.

Genuine congratulations to you if you woke up on the 1st with your resolutions enacted — gym memberships renewed, closets purged, AG1 drank, and Stanley cups runneth over, shouting “let them!” to anyone who doesn’t adhere to your boundaries. Or. If you need 3-5 more business days, or weeks, to thoroughly reflect and thoughtfully plot how you’d like to show up for yourself and others in the year ahead, that is perfectly okay too.

onwards

I have another pressing agenda I’d like to present.

Once we’ve all sufficiently molted, let’s get social with our collective thicker skins. Whether your January (and beyond) will be dry, damp, or drenched (responsibly of course), this is simply a movement to have more fun. To seek togetherness while also tending to self.

Maybe you’ve read the article titled “Americans Need to Party More”, which highlights that “loneliness is an urgent public health issue” and that the country “is in a party deficit” (sounds serious). Because not everyone can just up and move to France (sorry), apparently you can do your philanthropic part by hosting a party, or two. It sounds futile, but read the article. The possible impact is larger than you might think.

Quick caveat — for the sake of this campaign, let’s not just define partying as raging into the wee hours with unnnntsss unnnntttss music thumping in the background. But more broadly as gathering in a social setting with friends, friends of friends, and strangers alike. Maybe even with low lights, good music, and refreshments hey! And for the little bit of Larry David in all of us, Irish exiting is allowed and encouraged.

As a closeted introvert, who strongly presents as an extrovert, who also recharges their social battery solo, I am admittedly weary to give up couch time. Boy do I enjoy a solid Sunday rot, but I also have a deep hunger for those nights, you know those nights, where you lose track of time, your stomach and cheeks hurt from laughter, you can’t wait to wake up the next morning to debrief and recount all the newly acquired inside jokes.

These nights are the fabric of my friendships! The contents in every birthday card. The memories that give me the giggles and remind me what life is all about. The gifts that keep giving.

And important reminder — there is no age limit to these nights. Just ask my mom. One of the best nights of her life to this day was dancing with our family, and new friends, in a cave bar on the Amalfi coast in the summer of 2012, but that’s another story.

As Tom Ford points out, it’s nights like these that breathe life into us, and then later give us a sense of peace and fulfillment.

So. To more nights (or days) like these in our near futures. I can’t wait to do my part and host in Paris (let me know when you’re in town so I can invite you). Lest we forget, having fun is so much fun.

Take time to molt. To nest. To nurture. To recharge and recalibrate. To come out on the other side energized and ready to embrace the invisible promise of newness that the new year will bring.

Of course, everything in moderation, including moderation. Let’s protect our peace, but also let loose a bit? Lighten up! Be silly! It’s good for us.

little glimmers everywhere

A fun zippy playlist to help you transition from soft-shell crabbing to partying.
The essence of this article is infectious. Recollections of the most fun parties in Hollywood and beyond.
Oldie but goodie movie — Big Night with Stanley Tucci. My Dad and I were cackling in the first 5 minutes. Or Clear History with Larry David and 6589 other icons. It’s like one big Curb episode.
‘Twas the flight before Christmas, and I surprised my mom on xmas eve. Her reaction was the greatest gift of all. You would have thought I just returned home from war (saw her 9 days prior). All lovingly captured here.
Been obsessed with switching back to a physical planner, and will hopefully be penciling in parties asap.
Last year I fell in love with the coffee mugs at The Marlton, but couldn’t find them online. Last week my mom and I had lunch at Nordstrom Cafe (shoutout purple sauce) and the woman next to us had the SAME MUG. The manager said no when I asked to purchase one, but that I could take a photo of the model #. I flipped the mug over and it revealed my family’s lucky numbers — 813.
(My parents met on 8/13, I was born at 8:13, sister weighed 8lb 13oz, etc. We’re not nuts about it, but any variation of these #s is always a good omen). I explained this to the manager. She said she believes in that stuff too, and let me keep it. She brought over another mug and showed us that the others don’t have those numbers!
Ina Garten’s new memoir, Ready When the Luck Happens. And getting in the Paris spirit with A Moveable Feast, which I’ve actually never read.
A best friend’s grandpa’s funeral. No, funerals are not usually glimmer-ridden, however, this one was special. The beautiful heartfelt speeches touched on his familial values, kindness, humor, and joyfulness. His legacy left everyone teary eyed, wanting to be a better person, and to have more FUN, in his honor.
This cocktail from Maty’s in Miami with gin, ginger, lemon, and gochugaru (!) It was perfectly sweet, spicy, smokey, citrusy.
Honoring our annual tradition of stone crabs (post molt) to start and chocolate mousse to finish, when ringing in the new year.
My Dad’s version of emptying the freezer aka taking everyone’s order on New Year’s Day and cooking filets, ribeyes, eyes of ribeye, NY strips, lamb chops and pork chops, all to perfection.
This heartwarming story Meg sent me from the modern love section of the NYT.