This Week In News

Don’t Try This at Home 

As a gesture of conservation/negligence, we let our back lawn die. I have grand ambitions about redesigning the yard to be a low-water landscape with all kinds of stones and sage and lavender, but it turns out it’s really easy to stop watering the grass, and really, really difficult to dig up the hardened dirt bound together by a network of roots. Especially when it’s 1000 degrees outside, and you’re me. After a lot more work than I anticipated, I managed to get one tiny corner turned and planted this week. Yaaaay.

Were You Born in a Barn?

It seems the old adage “never read the comments” also applies to articles that I wrote. I was genuinely surprised (and then disappointed in myself for being surprised, and then disappointed in humanity) upon reading some negative comments about The Barn project we featured in last week’s issue. It seems some residents in the neighborhood had already made up their minds that the building should be torn down—despite the fact that it isn’t in bad enough condition to be condemned—and may be gearing up to oppose the project. To sum up their arguments sarcastically: the empty building attracts vagrants and is in bad shape, therefore occupying it and fixing it up are a bad idea. I really don’t get the logic, and it was very frustrating to read. In positive news, support is swelling, and initial fundraising efforts have passed the halfway mark.

I’m the Worst

It gets really hot in the gymnasium where we take our exercise, and that is my excuse for being a jerk to my wonderful Canadian Amazon/semi-personal trainer, Ally Sharpe. Yes, she made me do 50 burpees and 50 pushups with my tiny T-rex arms, but I shouldn’t have weakly shaken my fist from the puddle of tears and sweat I was drowning in and threatened to punch her in the knees if she told me I was doing great one more time. Sorry about that, I’ll try to be a better sport.

Help me Jessica Fletcher, You’re my Only Hope

Just in time to set my attitude right, today I received this lovely portrait of Angela Lansbury in her role as the indomitable Jessica Fletcher of Murder She Wrote, the classiest lady of all time. If ever there was a symbol of intelligent, polite, and witty decorum in the face of rudeness and obstinance, it was she. There was never a task too difficult (except maybe letting love back into her life after Frank died), never a situation too awkward (except for maybe the time she was arrested and her friend Michael Hagarty of MI6 refused to exhonerate her because he was trying to keep her out of the case he was working on), and never a mystery too complex (except the mystery of how she became so awesome). May her image inspire me to grace in the face of all challenges.

Also, I Ate a Lot of Cookies

I made cookies for Colin’s last day here, and I ate like a third of them before I even got to the office.

Managing Editor for Synthesis Weekly. Amy likes to make clothes, plant flowers, and chase butterflies.