Welcome to Two-Cents Simone. Short, sweet, and once a week.
I’m writing in public, and you’re the public.
You’ll never hear me say that I’m building the airplane as I fly it because overused phrases bore me. Who isn’t building and flying at the same time? Nobody has done this moment before. Everything is new.
Moving on, this letter has a new format. The old one is not gone, but I’m testing another way. Writing in public. Experimenting together.
Now that I send a newsletter on Tuesdays, my week begins and ends on Tuesday. This really turns a girl around. Inspired by the wonkiness of the week, I switched the format. Daily, there’s a nugget I want to share. So here we are—seven days, seven-ish nuggets.
Let’s see how we like it.
Wednesday
The kids went to their dad’s. (So far, meh.)
I went to a Women In Cannabis event. Bay Area folks who smoke, eat, drink, rub, lick, sniff cannabis—Ona.Life delivers great weed and business. 🌱 (Getting better.)
Thursday
I do Zoom improv with retirees. I’m easily the youngest person by 25 years. My ego isn’t invited. Try it. Not the improv, but leaving your ego at the door.
I bought two of this dress. Both black, both small. Uniform life is on the horizon. 👗
Friday
The kids are back.
Owen and I play fruit toss before bed. We grab a lemon, lime, or orange and we chuck it at each other while we chat. It’s a great combination of distraction and focus that suits us both. Try it with a loved one for a disarming, cheerful, and aromatic time. Arguing with your spouse? Grab a 🍋.
Saturday
Emma got vax 1 today. When I told her we were going, she did a fist pump, “Yes!” What world are we living in that a 7-year-old cheers for a vaccine? I watched the experience through the eyes of an anti-vaxer (because that’s how I roll). They were fuming. We were celebrating.
Right before, we visited my mom’s grave after having not been for a while. We’d had heavy rains. I was curious what it looked like. It’s still there. We assume she is, too. The hearts we carved in the dirt are gone, but the field is filling with grass.
I know, look at my leggings! My bestie buys me second-hand clothes that she thinks nobody but me can pull off. I hope you have a friend like Ashley.
Sunday
Owen is officially a thirt-teen! 🎂
He’s handsome, engaging, obsessive, smart, and a budding chef. At his dad’s house last week, he made surf and turf burritos with homemade everything—including tortillas and chips!
It’s impressive. The kid grows, but the kitchen suffers. At my house, it’s a toss-up.
We’re happy customers of The Dynamite Shop—online cooking classes for kids. Owen’s taken several classes since the pandy began.
Monday
I finally published an essay I’ve been working on for weeks. Apologies ahead for the illustration. I told Emma “It’s good enough, and good enough is pretty good.”
Cracked open, chafing from sadness, my synapses were primed for a rewire. The fastest way to freedom is by pushing your brain outside its comfort zone. Learning a new skill eases the pain. It sounds so easy. It’s not. You’ll want to do the opposite. But listen to those synapses, they know what’s best for you.
Read the full essay, Swimming In Sadness.
Tuesday
More experimentation is on the horizon. The next newsletter will have a new name. Two-Cents Simone is retiring early.
Alas, I’m hitting send on Issue 06 right now.
Hi and Bye
Hello new subscribers! Hello OGs. We’re at 162. There’s room for plenty more.
What did you think of the new format? Tell me how it landed for you.
Bonus: Who got the play on words in the title?
The End
Have a beautiful week, everyone.
Such a good read, Simone. It felt like those one second videos where people film themselves for one second. You gave a window to each day and it kept me engaged!
I also enjoyed the essay and loved that you referred to yourself as a "gringa"; for me it changed the whole tone—as if you were a friend catching me up on your life.
Kudos!
HBD Owen!!