I’m back. Thanks for all your encouragement during my recovery from surgery. I’m still in a sling and everything from getting dressed and making lunch to typing and driving takes approximately 9.5x longer than it should, but I’m starting to feel better.
I wrote “In praise of friction” in 2023. I recognized some bad habits the COVID-19 pandemic had created in me, and I swore to do better. I meant it, but I didn’t make much progress. Last month, I was more than a little jealous when I saw the headline “In 2026, We Are Friction-Maxxing” pop up on The Cut. “I wrote about this three years ago,” I reminded my husband, feeling like my article hadn’t received the attention it deserved. Because I’m pettty, and becuase it’s worth revisiting, let’s talk about it some more.
Here’s the basic gist of what I wrote:
In March 2020, we had to avoid the frictions of a highly contagious virus and an overburdened health system. The global pandemic created the perfect product-market fit for apps that kept us safe at home. … I love intuitive software. Believe me, no one hates having to click on five links to start the return process more than I do. But when it comes to real life, I could use a little less efficiency and a lot more emotional connection. The serendipitous run-in with a friend at the market that leads to plans to spend more time together. The slow pace of an overnight visit with my parents. The real-life advice of the knowledgeable salesperson at the hardware store (because even the most helpful Amazon reviews can’t give you that.)
I vowed to introduce more good friction into my life. And I tried, I really did. I stopped working out with my laptop in my basement and joined a gym. It was lovely — so lovely I wrote about that, too — until a rotator cuff tear sidelined me a few months ago. I stopped using Shipt to order all my groceries. (Sorry, Shipt. It’s not you, it’s me.) And I got better about making IRL plans with friends, including a mostly annual trip with a small group of cool women that has become one of my favorite weekends of the year.
Yet here I am, almost exactly three years later, still gobsmacked by how different life in 2026 is compared to life in 2019. So I’m still trying. And I’ve resolved to step up my efforts. Here’s what that looks like —
After thinking about it for more than a year, I recently took a second part-time editing gig. This one is local (since WBUR is in Boston and I live in Richmond, my first part-time gig is 100% remote), and I’ll go into an office (which means getting dressed, getting there and getting to know people — so much good friction!). I’ll tell you more soon, but suffice it to say so far, so good.
I’m saying yes to more invitations. I became so accustomed to being a busy working mother of three busy kids that it became all too easy to forget that I no longer am. For so long, my Pavlovian response to unexpected invites was a simple, “I can’t.” But here’s the thing: I can now. In the past few weeks alone, I’ve said yes to a progressive dinner for a good cause, a dinner invitation with a couple I’ve always wanted to get to know better, and the Bruce Springsteen show in Chicago with one of my oldest friends.
I’m making sacrifices for friendship. During one of our many attempts to find a date and time to get together, my fun group of girlfriends had the epiphany that early mornings is the best time to gather, so now we’re doing breakfast together as often as possible (the goal is once a month, but we’re not there yet). Socializing at 7:30 a.m. on a weekday means skipping a workout (or giving up some sleep to squeeze in a workout), avoiding 9:00 a.m. meetings and making your house presentable in the wee hours of the morning if you’re the host, but this is good friction at its finest.
Lest you think I’ve nailed it, please know that I am very rusty. I’m shocked at how bad I am at making conversation over cocktails these days. I constantly forget to put things on the calendar I share with my husband. And on the very first day of work at my new gig, I was nearly late because I forgot how long it takes to get dressed and groom, and I had so little gas in my car that I coasted into the parking lot on fumes.
But I did it. And it felt good.
Also on my mind
The brilliant Bess Kalb (who testified in front of Congress this week!) addresses social friction with way more humor than I’m capable of. (“If you’re not willing to go to two parties in one night, then maybe you don’t deserve loved ones.”)
If Matt Shumer’s viral post about AI has caused you to lose sleep, please also read his Q&A with Intelligencer. Just as I suspected (because his post was so redundant and lacked specificity), Shumer relied heavily on AI to write a piece about how great AI is.
In TV news, “Scrubs” is back. And if the first episode is any indication, it’s very faithful to the original and Turk and JD are still BFF goals. (Just be sure to consume some sort of palate cleanser between “Scrubs” and “The Pitt” — it’s a different genre, people.) I’ll also confess that I’ve watched every available episode of “Love Story.” (By the way, how did they get away with using that name?) I could honestly care less about the Kennedys and the romance — I’m here for the fashion and the soundtrack. It’s the kind of musical nostalgia that makes my stomach hurt (in a good way). As soon as I’m well enough to run again, this will be my playlist.
What is “aspirational clutter,” and why is it so hard to get rid of? Jolie Kerr explains and I feel seen.
Shopping for vintage clothes can be intimidating. If you’re just getting started, this column about what to look for in vintage shirts from Tess Sullivan of what's mine is yours offers great advice. (And for what it’s worth, three of my all-time favorite shirts are vintage.)
Sticking with fashion for a moment longer, has anyone tried Pickle? I hate the name, but love the concept of a peer-to-peer fashion app (think Airbnb/Turo/Swimply for clothes).
Black women’s unemployment has skyrocketed. The 19th explains.
This article about how baby formula is the secret to marriage equality kind of rocked my world. (Though I do think the headline should say “parenting equality”).
Seven questions the artist and author Austin Kleon asks himself when he doesn’t know what to do next. It’s a good thing I’m a Gen Xer who still owns a printer because this one’s going on my bulletin board.
And this week’s poem, chosen for the liturgical calendar:
I’m giving up for Lent — Lyndsay Rush What would it feel like to give up self-improvement for forty days? Would the tightness in our chests throat, shoulders, and hips ease as we contentedly took the easy way out? Would capitalism crumble if we deleted our wish lists and framed the before photo? Sounds holy, if you ask me, to be sold on life-as-is to just exist with only this, only us only what these two arms can hold
Been thinking about that 2023 piece you wrote (and YOU!) a bunch lately. <3