Spring and Friday

This week somehow tumbled by fast with the second half of it given over to the New York Antiquarian Book Fair (I’m not there; my dear, bookselling husband is). In service to Cumberland Rare Books, I stepped up the shuttle and parenting duties and I don’t know, suddenly it’s Friday morning and I never thought about these Shadows of mine.


Of course the only actual news in the Northeast that uplifts and overtakes has nothing to do with book fairs or rides to places, it’s all about spring, which finally, finally, finally appears to be here.

Like every other Thursday Saskia takes the bus from school to town with a band of bros (yo-yoing bros all in her bro’s cohort) Thursday afternoon means an ice cream cone at Herrells. The photo reveals her standing order. The weather finally has caught up to the chosen snack spot, but even in the winter these trips made sense to Saskia. “It’s heated inside Herrell’s,” she reasoned.

True story. As a diehard frozen yogurt lover from forever (ask the Goberry team if this is so), I get it. Although this winter broke me and I have to admit my frozen yogurt mettle was tested (and lost more than won). So, I am happy about the weather for the reason that is “frozen yogurt” along with all the other obvious ones.

Grateful for the earth’s softening and how it’s softened me, too. Grateful for friends and family—some cousin time this past weekend makes me need to double that gratitude or triple it or something—and how loved ones soften what needs softening and remind when reminding is necessary and strengthen what needs strengthening and laugh through all of it. What would we do without each other? I can’t even imagine; I don’t want to. Finally, I’m grateful for editors, in professional mode and in colleague mode, for obvious reasons.

I have an essay up at Full Grown People, about cake disasters and febrile babies and class notes, not in that order exactly and not about the parts. I love this essay, which was, in part a long time in the writing and then not—and speaks something dear (to me).

Not busy is the new black—and you can find out why on Motherlode. It’s a good reframe, choices. One choice I’ve made is to read more (and I’m reading “Orange is the New Black,” which is thoughtful in a way I hadn’t expected).

Two other quick stops for my work this week—Momfilter has a little piece about Bullet Journal, and I gotta say, it’s a busy buster, too and Brain Child’s blog has an essay about some sweet shoes and the poetic beauty of hand-me-downs.

Happy weekend, all.

Sarah Werthan Buttenwieser

Author: Sarah Werthan Buttenwieser

Sarah Werthan Buttenwieser's work has appeared on the New York Times, Salon, and the Manifest Station amongst other places. Find her on Twitter @standshadows

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