Oh. What. Fun. (Movie Review)

Yesterday, my family watched Oh. What. Fun., a new Christmas movie on Prime, together. It has a great cast, including Michelle Pfeiffer, Danielle Brooks, Dominic Sessa, Felicity Jones, Chloe Grace Moretz, Havana Rose Liu, and more.

My mom and I separately saw trailers for this movie and thought it would be a fun watch for us all as a family, so that’s usually a good sign. I definitely think the overall sentiment of the film was a good one. The “invisible” emotional load that many women, and especially mothers, take on to plan, curate, and execute meaningful experiences for those around them should always be talked about more, so I appreciated that part of the story. I will say most of the characters had both their own flaws and also redeeming qualities, but I felt the reconciliation with the Mom character and her eldest daughter was really impactful at the end, because they were able to recognize their similarities and how they had both learned to shoulder the load as a way to feel important and needed.

My two biggest issues were the husband and the middle daughter. The husband barely apologized at the end after spending 90% of the film just trying to build a complicated doll house, and he couldn’t keep it together for one second when his wife was gone. After 20 or whatever years of marriage, I would need to see some real, demonstrated change if I were Michelle Pfeiffer before I forgave him. And the middle daughter was simply an unredeemable character. She went through zero growth throughout the movie and was super mean to her nice (albeit it sort of awkward) brother in law for no justifiable reason. And then HE was supposed to apologize to her at the end? Didn’t like that part.

Overall, I think most of the message of the movie was good, and especially if you’re a mom trying to send your family subliminal messages through media telling the that they need to appreciate you more, this could be a winner for you, as long as they don’t inexplicably side with the middle daughter, who straight-up sucked. 

Merry Christmas!

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Thanks for reading!

Holly

Christmas, ugh

Ugh. Christmas. Nothing like it, truly. 

It’s the only holiday that we call that. Other holidays are different and go by different names, but this is the only one that’s Christmas. Makes you think.

 

The Christmas tree is up. Wow, look at it go. Ornaments, dangling from the branches. “Blink blink blink” go the lights. 

 

Santa: is he real? Some people seem to think so. Most of those people are children, and they’re not known for wisdom. Adults, such as myself, are more credited with wisdom. Some adults, however, do not like vaccines. They are neither wise nor immune to polio.

 

The reindeer fly, allegedly. Lee Harvey Oswald shot JFK, allegedly. Either both of these things are true or both of them are false. What do you think?

 

I wouldn’t have shot JFK personally, but again, I am wise. FDR had polio, but not because he was unwise; the vaccine didn’t exist at the time. Tis the season for joy!

 

If Santa is so magical, how come still discrimination?  Hm. 

 

Merry Christmas! Not to Lee Harvey Oswald, but to you and your family <3 

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Rudolph

Grid Walking With My Girl

For almost a year now, I have been working my way through walking all the streets (& avenues) of Manhattan with my daughter. We try to walk once a week for a couple of hours at each clip, and our only guiding methodology is to walk streets we have not recorded before.  This little project has an official name - Grid Walking - and it has an official definition: A methodical practice of walking through a city by dividing it into a grid and traversing every street, path, and alley within that grid, usually for exploration, documentation, fitness, or personal challenge.

For us, it’s time spent together, exercise, and experiencing every corner of the city we love. I first got this idea when watching a segment on CBS Sunday Mornings. It told the story of Bill Helmreich, a sociologist who had walked the streets of all five boroughs. As Bill once said, “When you walk every block in New York, you stumble upon things you have never stumbled upon before.” Bill then wrote a book about his adventures called The New York Nobody Knows.

I had subsequently seen a documentary (“The World Before Your Feet”) about another grid walker named Matt Green. As he ambled, Matt wrote a blog (“I’m Just Walkin’) which I found fascinating in that he would research the history of many buildings.  Sometimes he discovered unassuming structures with no plaques that had once had famous people or events take place in them. History lost, history found.

Grid Walking as a hobby has only been around for 15 years or so. And thankfully, some smart persons created apps to help us in the tracking of it all.  We use the Map My Walk app to track the day’s journey.  That automatically feeds into a website called City Strides which shows all our efforts cumulatively. I have to say it’s very gratifying to see the purple ink slowly grow on the grid.

Since I know you are wondering, I will tell you that the streets of Manhattan total approximately 255 miles! Of that, we have walked over 70 miles. So we are off to a good start. Our rules are casual – if we get distracted by an interesting shop or a beckoning restaurant, we go for it.  One time, we spotted a young Broadway actor and for a moment, I thought we were going to do a 180 and follow him for a bit. We have ventured into a perfumery store, a sample sale, an FIT fashion exhibit, art galleries, and a pottery studio. We have played with give away kittens, watched the antics of a pups in a doggie daycare, sipped milkshakes in the shadow of the 59^th Street bridge, and gobbled up warm Irish soda bread in the East Village. We even decided to knock Mulberry Street off the list during the Feast of San Gennaro.

A handful of times, we have allowed other friends or family to join us. I truly enjoy that, but what I appreciate most is being able to walk and talk and walk and talk with my girl!

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Eve

The Apple Doesn't Fall Far

Today would have been my father’s 92nd birthday. My dad spent his entire professional life teaching math. He taught in classrooms, around kitchen tables, and anywhere a nervous teenager needed help understanding why x absolutely, positively had to equal something.

In addition to teaching high school math, he was deeply immersed in SAT prep. He taught classes, tutored students one-on-one, and even helped write the math sections of SAT prep books. Math wasn’t just his job. It was his language, his comfort zone, and occasionally his punchline. He truly believed that with enough patience and practice, math could stop being scary and maybe even become fun.

My kids never met their grandfather. He passed away many years before they were born. Still, if you asked them who he was, they would immediately tell you he was a math teacher. That fact has somehow become his calling card across generations.

Recently, something made me stop and smile. Both my son and my daughter tutor students for SAT and ACT test prep. They are pursuing careers in the arts, so tutoring is a practical way to support themselves while chasing creative dreams. And yes, it beats waiting tables. But still, of all the jobs they could have chosen, they both landed on tutoring.

What are the odds?

There’s something quietly comforting about it, especially during the holidays when memories feel closer. I don’t believe they’re channeling their grandfather’s spirit while explaining quadratic equations, but I do think some things get passed down whether we plan them or not. A love of teaching. A knack for explaining things. A little patience mixed with empathy for stressed-out students.

My father would have loved this coincidence. He probably would have laughed, then offered tips, strategies, and maybe a few unsolicited improvements to their lesson plans. Mostly, though, I think he would have been proud.

Clearly, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Sometimes it rolls a few decades forward and lands exactly where it belongs.

Happy Birthday, Dad!

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Thanks for reading!

Frosty

 

Wake Up Dead Man (Movie Review)

Today I finally watched Wake Up Dead Man, the new Knives Out movie. I wanted to go see something in theaters but realized the times didn’t work, so I decided I should finally go watch this instead.

I loved the first Knives Out, and I will confess that I’ve only seen part of Glass Onion (I was watching it with my family late in the evening, and it was longer than we realized so we DNFed temporarily and then I never actually finished it. I loved the first one a LOT, and the second one had potential but didn’t immediately grab me as much as #1 did. I quite enjoyed this third one though.

I always find nuanced takes on religion in media to be fascinating. I grew up with a Catholic mother and a Jewish father, and was raised celebrating holidays from both religions and going to both church and synagogue on holy days, so I’ve always known that there are many valid perspectives on religion as a concept and also specifically.

I won’t get in to my specific beliefs, but I always find it interesting to see how people represent religion, especially Christianity. It’s kind of easy to go one way or the other: to have the whole thing be a missionary statement to “let yourself be saved by the lord”, or to represent religious Christians as the oppressors that they, to be fair, often were and are and call them delusional. I liked that this film gave sensical perspectives from both religious and non-religious characters, and explored the use of religion to attack and oppress versus to accept and love. I like that that character was the “good” character of this Knives Out film, and even though I had the ending spoiled before I saw it, I still enjoyed watching the journey and rooting for Josh O’Connor’s character.

I do agree with what I’ve heard from others about it being slightly less of an ensemble piece than the prior two films and focusing more on Benoit Blanc and Father Jud specifically, but their performances were great so I wasn’t too bothered by that. Overall, I gave it 4/5 stars and would recommend it, especially to those who like murder mysteries.

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Thanks for reading!

Holly

Ranking the Avatars

I saw Avatar (2009) when I was 11 years old. I was the perfect age for it, and it remains one of my more cherished theatergoing experiences; I don’t think I’ll forget shoveling popcorn in my mouth while watching Jake Sully run from the thanator. Tonight, I saw Fire and Ash, and I wanted to rank the Avatar movies so far. Nerds lock in.

Avatar: The Way of Water

Avatar under the sea? Yes please. I had some friends complain about the length of Way of Water, but I could’ve spent a year watching beautiful alien fish swim around. These movies are credited for being visual feasts, and this one takes the cake. It maintains the same structure and beats of the first one, but the new visual buffet had me not worrying about that very much at all. 

 

Avatar 

The classic! The original! The OG! As aforementioned, it touched this young boy’s heart and helped me fall further and further in love with the cinematic experience. I saw this with my Dad when he was on his lunch break at work, which at the time I just accepted, but in hindsight is insane given the movie’s length. I’m grateful for that experience and I’m grateful he didn’t get fired. 

 

Avatar: Fire and Ash

Literally just walked out of this one a half hour ago. It was okay! I think big Jim really would benefit from getting a new structure going for the next two. Really was hoping for a new pallet, a new biome, and we got more forest, sea, and air battles. Which were gorgeous to watch as always! But I wanted something new! This was a horny movie. I’ll say that. 

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Rudolph

Wondering About iHOP

Have you ever been to an iHOP? Come on, be honest. I don’t care if it’s your favorite place. In fact, I’d genuinely like to find someone who goes regularly so they can explain the appeal to me, calmly and without judgment.

Don’t get me wrong. I like a good diner. In fact, I love a good diner. Give me cracked vinyl booths, a laminated menu the size of a dictionary, and a waitress who calls everyone “hon” and I’m happy. But iHOP? Not so much.

In the 26-plus years we’ve lived in our town, we have been to iHOP exactly once. Once. That is not a typo. Clearly they are not relying on my household to keep the lights on or the griddles warm.

We never really see their parking lot full. Maybe on Sunday mornings there’s a small crowd, but even then it feels more like a gathering of extras than actual neighbors. Who are these people? Where do they come from? I can tell you this much: I don’t know a single person who goes there with any regularity. Not one.

I drove by the other day and was surprised (flabbergasted, even) to see a sign proudly announcing “Now Open 24/7.” Wait, what? For a place that is rarely busy, and when it is busy appears to be filled with mysterious strangers, there is suddenly enough demand that it must never close? I never went to business school, but this one really made me stop and scratch my head.

Naturally, my mind wandered. Tony Soprano and his crew had Satriale’s Pork Store, a perfectly innocent-looking front for planning all manner of underworld activity. Could this be the same thing? If an iHOP never closes, no one would blink an eye at people coming and going at all hours of the night. Completely normal. Nothing to see here.

Or maybe it’s something bigger. A top-secret government lab, perhaps. At street level it’s pancakes and syrup, but forty levels below? Labs, armories, testing stations, people in lab coats saying things like “We’re not cleared to discuss that.” It would explain a lot.

There must be another explanation, maybe even a reasonable one that I’m simply not thinking of. I just cannot believe there is that much genuine, round-the-clock demand for overly sweet pancake stacks. But I remain open-minded. If you’re one of the regulars, I invite you, politely, to enlighten me.

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Frosty

Cheese & Candy Pairings

This year for one of the nights of Hanukkah, we tried something a little different – cheese and candy pairings. Suggestions for these pairings are everywhere on social media right around Halloween, for people who are looking for something to do with all of those candy bars, I guess.

I consulted several people’s platters and their pairing recommendations and then hit the cheese counter. A very helpful cheesemonger helped me find a half dozen cheeses.  From there, a quick trip to the drug store to get the corresponding candies. Our family loves tastings so I anticipated that pairings would be a natural extension of that. My son started off willing but skeptical. However, once he got to his second pairing, Eureka! He declared that one was awesome.

After tasting each couple, my daughter experimented with duos that she thought might be even better together. Indeed, she found some nice matches. My husband definitely developed a preference for the creamier cheeses. I liked the sharper ones – they made the candy seem saltier somehow.

If you are wondering if it makes any difference what cheese one pairs with what candy, it absolutely does!  We confirmed this by trial and error.  Some pairings were outright unpleasant.

Overall, a very fun experience I highly recommend!

Pairings

-        Manchego and Reese’s peanut butter cups

-        Honey Goat Gouda and Twix

-        Aged Gouda and Caramel Popcorn (everybody liked this one)

-        Mascarpone and Sour Patch Kids

-        Sharp Cheddar and Butterfingers

-        Gruyere and Snickers

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Eve

Ready Player One (Movie Review)

Yesterday I rewatched Ready Player One, and it’s still a great movie. Like unexpectedly great. There have been many futuristic action movies and movies about VR or tech worlds, but I love the adventure essence of it.

First of all, the soundtrack is GREAT, and the exposition they used to explain it wasn’t even clunky; lots of 80s bangers setting the mood.

I also love how full of niche trivia and references the film is. Because of the way they set up the film talking about the creator of the VR world’s favorite books, films, and music, they constantly reference and even go into other media within the game, which, as someone who loves making a niche reference, I enjoy immensely.

Ultimately, I just really like the story and the characters, and it continues to hit me and make me sentimental to enjoy the world building (even if it’s set a little too near in the future for my liking; I don’t like to think of all the change happening within my lifetime).

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Holly

Purple Planet

Considerable damage was done to the mesa. The first landing of the captain’s ship some 18 years ago had cracked open millennium-old rocks like they were ice cubes dropped on the kitchen floor. 

Smithereens, they called it. “Don’t get lost up in Smithereens!” Raina’s mother used to say. “Getting lost” was a novel concept to kids who had grown up on the desert planet. The light purple sediment was all that Raina and her friends had known.

 

Raina carefully picked her way up through the blasted rocks, utterly grateful that she had remembered to wear her boots. The captain was scheduled to return today and she was hopeful for an audience.

 

She approached the landing spot, a ribbed dent at the center of the mesa. Boulders and shards of rock laid about. Smithereens, indeed.

 

Now, it was time to wait. The captain’s arrival time was a mystery to all from Raina’s backwater colony, but the date was certain as the captain kept a religious schedule. Raina pulled from her bag a textbook for her biology class: “Extraterrestrial Farming in the Second Space Age”. It was a dry read with the occasional charming illustration. It would have to do.

 

The hours passed and the planet’s two moons danced around each other. Just as the Friend made his second attempt toward the Foe, Raina heard a craft break through the atmosphere. She threw her bag together and sought cover behind a boulder the size of her mother’s living pod. 

 

A spherical craft broke through the feathery clouds and seemed to drop straight towards Raina. She covered her face with her jacket, purple dust flying about.

 

The craft settled into complete and utter silence. Whoever was on board was perhaps hitting the bathroom before making their grand entrance, or maybe grabbing a snack. Raina was fiddling anxiously with her shoelaces when she heard a puff of air and the cranking of hinges. A bottom quarter of the sphere blossomed, revealing a walkway with a tubby little man. He had thinning gray hair and wore an embarrassing black cape that was at least a decade out of fashion. He stepped out, seeming to assess his parking job. 

 

“Captain!”

 

The man looked up, alarmed to have a visitor. His hand went toward his gun.

 

“Are you here for the cargo?” the man barked.

 

Raina stepped closer. “I’m actually here for you.”

 

The captain frowned. “What do you want?”

 

Raina sputtered awkwardly. “I- I’m actually your daughter?”

 

The man lowered his weapon and frowned even harder. His silence devoured the afternoon air. 

 

After they sat silently for what felt like a year, the man raised his weapon again, changed the setting to “stun”, and fired at his alleged daughter. Raina dropped to the ground.

 

The captain was not supposed to have children. The captain was not supposed to have ties to any of the planets he visited. And most importantly, the captain was not supposed to have anything that could be used to blackmail him and his order. Captain Erik von Redd had captured gaseous life forms in bottles, toppled insurrections within his own order, and extracted ore from violently contested asteroids. But all of those challenges paled in comparison to his apparent fatherhood. 

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Rudolph

The Perfect Storm

There is a very specific kind of snowstorm that deserves its own holiday. Not the Tuesday at 7am variety that ruins lives and footwear. Not the Sunday night special that sends a chill through your inbox as you preemptively draft the “working from home today” email. I am talking about the perfect storm. Snow that begins late on a Saturday night and drifts lazily into Sunday morning, with absolutely nowhere you are required to be.

This is the snowstorm that understands you.

It starts quietly, after dinner plans are finished and pajamas have been put on. Maybe you notice it through the window while pretending to watch a show. At first it looks decorative. Festive, even. A little sparkle in the streetlight. You feel no panic because there is no alarm clock looming, no commute calculations running in the background of your brain. The roads can do whatever they want. You are not participating.

By Sunday morning, the world has been gently muted. The kind of silence that makes you instinctively speak more softly, even though no one else is awake yet. The snow is pristine, untouched, and deeply smug about it. Cars are still parked exactly where they were last night, and they will remain there for several glorious hours. You can admire the snowfall without once checking traffic apps or mentally ranking which hills in your town are the most treacherous.

Coffee tastes better on snow Sundays. This is science. You drink it slowly, staring out the window like you are in a movie about a person who has their life together. You are dressed purely for warmth and comfort. No one is judging you. This is a snow day for adults, which is vastly superior to snow days for children.

The best part is the absence of dread. There is no meeting to reschedule, no boss to impress. Conditions are not your problem. You are monitoring baked goods. Or chores around the house. Or a book. Or, best of all, a nap.

Contrast this with weekday snow, which arrives aggressively, usually sideways, and immediately demands sacrifice. That snow comes with sirens, salt trucks, and the haunting phrase “use caution.”

Saturday-night-to-Sunday snow comes with permission. Permission to linger. Permission to cancel plans guilt-free. Permission to watch something indulgent, drink something warm and eat something carb-heavy without explanation.

By Sunday afternoon, the snow begins to fade, like a polite houseguest who knows when to leave. Plows arrive. Life slowly resumes. But for a brief window, the world gave you a gift: winter beauty without winter consequences.

That is the perfect storm.

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Thanks for reading!

Frosty

 

It's The End Of The World As We Know It

Recently, I have been thinking a lot about AI “taking over” the world. Read anything, watch anything, listen to anything, and somebody is lamenting about the imminent demise of humans. They predict jobs vaporizing, brains rotting on account of nobody needing to know anything anymore since ChatGPT will give them all the answers, and kids becoming illiterate since they won’t need to go to school. Some even say maybe sentient AI will kill all the humans. 

While I *do* kind of see us heading down the path of AI supremacy, I don’t think that’s how it’s going to play out. I don’t think there will be one big event or series of notable events that historians will point to and declare “this is when it all took a turn.” I predict the transformation will happen in teeny tiny undetectable increments all in the name of progress with nobody ever looking back. In fact, it has already started happening…

The obvious example has taken place in the last decade or so. How many of us cannot be without our cellphones for five minutes? An hour? A day? Whether you are scrolling or checking messages, or just feel the need to always be reachable, you cannot be without that phone. Yet ten years ago, you somehow managed just fine. This is my first most widely applicable example of our subservience. 

Secondly, medical solutions are another way we are becoming dependent — by being intertwined with Al. AI is now baked into mammogram research: it can detect cancer way better and way earlier than a human doctor.  In recent years, medical researchers have been taking the universe of known diseases (~ 18,000) and cross referencing them with the universe of FDA-approved drugs (~4,000) in order to determine off-label uses. They are able to do this in a timely manner only by training AI what to look for and how to look for it. In addition, scientists are working on creating nanobots that will swim through your blood stream and optimize your bodily functions as needed. 

We already have hearing aids that are app-dependent, designer DNA for potential newborns, and AI seizure technology. It is not a far stretch to say that before long, any physical problem a human has will be solved by AI tech either put into the body or on the body and maintained by an external entity. Those folks would not have survived without help.  Natural selection will be a thing of the past.

This is just a smattering of examples off of the top of my head, but my point is AI will dominate not because it conquered the human race, but because it became part of the human race.

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Eve

K-Pop Demon Hunters (Movie Review)

Yesterday I watched K-Pop Demon Hunters for the first time. I know, I’m like 6 months late, but I was just not in the mood for something animated when it came out and then it felt like I’d waited too long to hop on the craze. Then the voice artists from the movie sang in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, and I realized that the song “Golden” totally slaps, so that convinced me it was time to watch it. 

The animation was interesting in that it kind of felt like a cross between Pixar in its drawing style and claymation in its editing style. It reminded me a little bit of Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse in that regard, which was fun. I haven’t been big into K-Pop thus far in my life, so I enjoyed seeing a snippet of that part of pop culture. I also thought the art design for the demons was very cool and felt like it was original. 

Most importantly, I thought there were a lot of bangers on the soundtrack. I was kinda surprised that the lyrics were so overtly demon-hunter-y considering they were supposed to be perceived as just pop stars, but I decided to suspend disbelief on that and not let it be my problem. 

Overall a fun, easy watch after a long day of work. 

Thanks for reading!

Holly

The Rattlesnake

The merchant’s wagon rolled into the sunset. It would be dark soon, and that was going to be a problem. This part of the desert wasn’t kindly to strangers, especially those who had goods to sell.

The wagon hit a log that the horses had managed to step over. A spoke in the front left wheel snapped, collapsing the whole damn thing. The merchant hopped down from his seat, sweating. Changing a broken wheel in the dark wasn’t easy, especially when doing it alone. He decided he would camp for the night.

 

The merchant made no fire, for fires in dangerous country can attract dangerous persons. But that wouldn’t matter tonight; a dangerous person arrived all the same.

 

As the merchant curled up in the back of his wagon, surrounded by potions and knick-knacks, he heard a young woman’s voice in the night.

 

“Hello there! Is anyone home?”

 

Now, the merchant wouldn’t usually respond to callers in the dark of the night, but the voice sounded friendly enough. The old salesman poked his head out the back and saw a young lady, no older than twenty.

 

“Why, hello there good sir! I’m so sorry to disturb you upon this dreadful hour, but I fear I had no choice. A rattlesnake spooked my horse when I was relieving myself not an hour ago, and I haven’t found the old donkey. Might I join you in the back of your wagon for warmth?”

 

The merchant was new to these parts, but naive he was not. The desert had neither wolves nor sheep, but the old man could recognize a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

 

“I don’t meet a lot of young ladies these days who speak of their bowel movements with such liberty” he said. “I’m sorry to hear about your horse, but I’m afraid I barely have enough space back here for myself.”

 

The young woman frowned. “Are you certain, mister? I don’t take up much space at all, and your generosity might save my life!”

 

“I’m certain as the setting sun. But, I can spare a tonic to help carry you through the night.” He reached into the back and pulled out a bottle harboring a viscous clear liquid.

 

The lady reached out to accept the old man’s offer, when the man chucked the bottle at her feet. Before the woman could respond, black bile started pouring from her mouth, eyes, and ears. She wailed a wail that would keep the old man up at night for the months to come. 

 

As the “lady’s” body emptied of bile, she shrank and shriveled up until she was nothing but a a four-foot serpent. The reptile hissed at the old man and took off into the darkness.

 

The merchant shook his head. “Hm. Rattlesnakes.”

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Rudolph

Spicy

There’s a great misunderstanding plaguing our culinary landscape, one that has left many of us sweating, crying, and questioning our life choices in the middle of restaurants that describe themselves as “casual dining.” It is the assumption that if you say you like spicy food, you are automatically volunteering to enter the Hunger Games.

Let’s clear this up: I like spicy. I do not like signing a medical waiver to consume lunch.

Somewhere along the way, “spicy” was kidnapped by extremists. It became less about taste and more about proving oneself in a gladiator arena constructed entirely of ghost peppers and poor decisions. Now, simply admitting you enjoy a Bloody Mary with zing or a spirited buffalo wing is enough to have someone challenge you to eat something called “The Widowmaker” or “Satan’s Toenail.”

I’m sorry, why? How is this hospitality?

Here’s the truth: I love spicy flavor. Flavor. You know, that thing that makes food good? Give me wasabi that clears my sinuses just enough to remind me I’m alive, but not enough to send me into a dissociative episode. Give me a buffalo wing that bites back a little.

But somewhere along the line, the spice world split into two camps: Camp A is comprised of people who enjoy eating. Camp B is comprised of people who think eating should be an extreme sport. Camp A respects boundaries. It says, “Let’s heighten flavor.” Camp B says, “Let’s heighten your blood pressure, your body temperature, and your sense of regret.”

I want to savor my food, not sign an affidavit saying I won’t sue if my tongue falls off.

Wasabi is the perfect example. It’s dramatic, but it also knows when to leave. It hits, it hollers, it bows politely and exits. It’s the Meryl Streep of condiments. Meanwhile, some hot sauces cling to your taste buds like a guest who doesn’t know when it’s time to say goodnight. Long after the meal is over, you’re still dealing with the consequences.

And don’t get me started on restaurants that brag about their “Level 10 Heat Challenge,” complete with a wall of fame showcasing people who look like they’ve just seen the face of God, and not in a peaceful way. Their smiling photos say, “Please validate me” but their eyes say, “I’ve made a mistake.”

I am not here to ascend to a higher plane of suffering. I just want dinner.

Spice, when used correctly, is delicious. It brings character, brightness, zing. It elevates. It adds personality. It reminds you that food is supposed to be fun, not a dare, not a threat, and definitely not a path to enlightenment through gastrointestinal distress.

So to all the chefs, friends, and well-meaning spice evangelists, if I say I like spicy food, do not challenge me to mortal combat. Just pass the wasabi, the buffalo sauce, the fra diavolo. Let’s keep things lively, not life-threatening.

After all, eating should be satisfying. Not an accomplishment.

 

Apparently New York's Best Kept Secret

Today, as I often do, I spent the day in the city. I took the train into the city and took the subway around the city. As I was maneuvering my way about, I was thinking about how courteous New Yorkers actually are. I know our reputation is that we are not nice, but that is really not warranted. Will we get impatient with you if you stop dead in your tracks in the middle of the sidewalk or are unaware that people who want to stand on the escalators should stand to the right (leaving room for walkers on the left)? Yes, absolutely. But that is because you interfered with the flow of traffic, and traffic flowing smoothly is a necessity with literally millions of people walking around.

On the subway today, there was an elderly Asian couple who had just walked on. Seeing the old man was unsteady, an equally aged white woman bolted out of her seat and nodded to his wife to put him in the seat.  At that very moment, the train lurched forward and the old guy reached out to grasp the pole, but his hand never made it. I tightly caught the middle of his arm to prevent him from creating a pile up.  Two other people from the other side got him in his seat. No words were exchanged, no eye contact amongst the train riders. I think the wife said thank you. We do things. We don’t make a big deal about it.

On another subway, an African American young girl dropped her phone on the stairs. I looked at the phone, looked at the quickly moving girl, looked at the phone again.  Wasn’t sure what to do first since picking up the phone meant losing the girl to the arriving train.  A white woman stepped in front of the girl and pointed “you dropped your phone! You dropped your phone!” A few other people just stood still so as to make way for her to get it on the stairs before somebody else wiped out. I heard another person just keep saying “oh no, oh no” like how could you live without your phone. It cracked me up. Maybe 15 seconds and done. Everybody moved on.

On the train home today, an older white guy got up from his seat and left his manbag.  He was two steps from getting off the train and I shouted “Sir, I think you left your bag!” He responded “oh, it’s always attached to me so I didn’t even think about it.” Tick tock, tick tock.  It was quickly becoming obvious to me that he was not going to walk fast enough to retrieve his bag and make his train stop. But then suddenly, a Hispanic teenager who was in the aisle stuffing her face with popcorn, immediately said “I’ll get it!” and moved faster than any of the rest of us could. Simple. Done. No big deal.

New Yorkers may not feel the need to make eye contact with the hundreds of people they walk past each day, nor greet them. Nonetheless, they are aware of what is going on around them and they jump in when needed. That’s both nice and more sincere and I will take that any time over a sugary “how are y’all doing today?”

Thanks for reading!

Eve

Hamnet (Movie Review)

Today I saw Hamnet again for the first time since September when I saw it at the Telluride Film Festival.

It continues to be a perfect film for me. I gave it 5 stars when I first saw it and added it to my Top 4 on Letterboxd, and seeing it again only furthered that opinion. I brought a friend who likes Shakespeare with me to see it and had the forethought to bring tissues, which was good because it’s a devastatingly beautiful film.

Hamnet features the best performance I’ve seen from Paul Mescal, whom I think is very talented and has given many great performances.

The biggest win for me though is Jessie Buckley. She and Chloe Zhao bring us along this heartbreaking journey of motherhood and grief, and she is so powerful that I will sue the Academy if she doesn’t win Best Actress this year.

Also, last time I saw Hamnet, I didn’t know that the actor who plays Hamnet, Jacobi Jupe, is real-life brothers with the actor who plays Hamlet in the play when it’s performed in the film, Noah Jupe. They do look quite similar, but knowing this fact made the parallels between their characters all the more real.

This film made me appreciate Hamlet the play on a new level. I’ve never held much space for the character of King Hamlet outside of the context of the play, but seeing “Shakespeare” perform that role made me see it in a new light, and recognize the apology and love letter that is the story of Hamlet. I cannot recommend this film enough to everyone and will probably be going to see it again before the year is out.

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Thanks for reading!

Holly

Rudolph's Favorite Books of 2025

We’re doing favorites! I’m starting with books, because I don’t know how many more I’m really going to get through before the end of the year. Hopefully two more! Or I won’t reach my Goodreads goal, which would be humiliating.

I’ll confess from the start, this has not been my best reading year. Usually, I set a goal for myself of 12 books a year (that’s one per month if you don’t have your calculator). This year, I set a goal of 8. I was planning on reading “Wind and Truth” by Brandon Sanderson, a 1300+ page fantasy book that I knew would take me at least 4 months to read. I did not do this. Which makes it even more humiliating that I’ve barely finished my 7th and it’s December! Whatever.

 

Here are my top three books of the year:

 

3

MCU: The Reign of Marvel Studios, by Joanna Robinson

 

As a former pretty big Marvel fan, I was concerned that there wouldn’t be much in this book that I hadn’t already heard/read about over the years. Instead, I found a very fun romp through the years that had some enjoyable exclusive stories about Hollywood’s most successful studio of this century. I’m kind of a sucker for all stories about movie-making, so the BTS quality of this made it a fun read. The politics behind how movies get made are both endlessly demoralizing and fascinating.

 

2

Piranesi, by Susanna Clarke

 

I had seen this book on fantasy recommendation lists for years and decided to finally give it a try. The less known about this one the better, so all I’ll say this is about a man who lives in and cares for a mysterious labyrinth. I was touched by the protagonist’s earnestness and love for his home.  Piranesi might technically be a mystery novel, and the mystery aspect does take a little bit to pick up. But once all was resolved, I found myself not caring about it so much, and instead valuing the protagonist’s perspective and adoration for the world around him. A pleasant read!

 

1

Nexus, by Yuval Harari

 

AI bad? Probability a little bit! Nexus is both a history of information networks (e.g. the written word or the internet) and a hypothesis of how artificial intelligence will play out based upon that history. That description might sound boring, but I can’t stress enough how much I appreciated Harari’s accessible and level-headed approach to a hot button issue. The first half or so is a history lesson, and a very engaging one at that. His predictions about AI are compelling and refreshing perspective in a moment with a lot of hype from the tech world. 

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Thanks for reading!

Rudolph