Don’t you miss these sounds? Decades of chatting has been so fun! I feel very lucky! I like how much faster internet is now!

But I also just want to sit and pet my dog or walk to a park or blow bubbles, and not know someone somewhere is wondering why I’m not getting back to emails on a Sunday afternoon.

If you’re nostalgic for early internet and buddy icons, have you played the game Emily is Away?

Our friend was visiting last week and we all downloaded the Focus Friend app by Hank Green. It’s cute, my character made a few socks and bought a window.

But I think what I really want is what I saw happen to this teenager when we went on a touristy boat ride with my mom a few summers ago. Right as the boat was leaving the dock, a teenager was holding his phone out recording the whole thing, and the phone slipped out of his hands and into the water, irrevocably lost. He spent the entire 90 minutes of our trip crying with his head on his mom’s shoulder - first loudly, then quietly. I’d be emotional if I lost my phone forever too, but I think they’d be happy tears.

Do you have any tips or secrets about how you spend less time online? Or do you like the amount of time you spend online? Do you change the ringtones on your devices so they make cuter sounds? Have you done anything fun outside lately? I saw kites available for checkout at our local library the other week.

Do you feel comfortable sharing your first username or email? Mine was brookestia, named after a Greek god version of myself I’d created. Against my better judgement I also feel comfortable sharing the first page of some fanfiction I wrote about the Greek god version of myself, and had published in our middle school anthology.

k ttyl, luv Brooke

—’—-(@

You heard that right, this month’s edition of my entirely text and image-based magazine is about the one thing text and image can’t convey: voices.

Do you like your voice? Do you like listening to your voice - do you have to listen to it often? Do you recognize your voice? Do you sound like anyone?

Erica has the last laugh

I was laughing at a friend’s house, a pretty innocuous thing to do, I thought, when their 11-year-old said “wow, when Brooke laughs she sounds like Erica.”

“That’s funny,” our friend said, and then moved on as though it wasn’t important to discuss.

“Who’s Erica?” I asked. They said she was a neighbor, sort of, it didn’t matter who Erica was. The conversation moved on, people talked some more, and I guess something funny happened, because I laughed again and our friend said “Wow she’s right, you really do laugh like Erica.”

What’s Erica laughing like? How can I laugh “like Erica”? I’m just laughing. No big deal, I put it out of my mind and we talked about something else, for another minute until I guess I laughed again and everyone wouldn’t stop going on about it.

“I can’t believe we never noticed how much your laugh sounds like Erica.”

“Wow it’s like Erica’s in the room with us, it’s uncanny.”

I tried out different laughs all weekend, with some success. But usually I laugh without thinking much about it, and when I do, I sound like Erica.

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Most of all I love knitting hats because I have a head too big for off-the-rack headwear.

Maybe you’re thinking “I bet it’s not that big.” It’s bigger than you’re thinking. But when I knit my own hats, I can knit them as big as I want. Here are a few things I made for my huge head this winter.

It’s a blue hat

I bought this yarn on clearance on a trip with Boaz and our nephew, and brought it to the hospital when I was in labor thinking I’d work on the hat between contractions. Ha! But a year later I finished it, and, it’s fine I guess. The yarn was on clearance because the person who made it was going out of business, and I think that’s ok, no one needs this yarn. The rest of the reviews will get more interesting. 6/10

Pattern: Manhattan

Striped bonnet

I had a fuzzy and not-fuzzy green yarn, and thought it would be cool to make a striped bonnet. And I was right, making it was cool! But wearing it isn’t cool at all - it’s too loose on me, like I’ve tied a garbage bag around my face. Worst of all, only people behind me get to enjoy the strips, I can’t see them in my reflection. 0/10

No pattern.

Lime green beret

This beret is a lot of look. I have a feeling whenever anyone sees me wearing this they think “wow look at that dork in a beret” and I’m fine with that. At least I’m not wearing it around Paris. 7/10

Pattern: Tiger Beret

Checkered balaclava

I used up seven different bits of leftover yarn from a sweater for Boaz and mittens for my mom to make this, and I love it. It’s super warm and makes me feel like I’m so cool people must think I came from another planet. 10/10

No real pattern.

Scarf with a tie

Ok, this isn’t a hat, but I made a tiny scarf with a $5 ball of yarn from a yarn shop near my sister’s house, and didn’t have enough material to make it long enough to really wrap around and secure. The ends just touched. But I did have enough to add these little ties, and I think it’s the nicest thing I’ve ever seen. Why don’t more scarves have little ties like this? 10/10

Pattern: Alex Scarf, with ties.

I still have more hats I’d like to make, but none of them are interesting enough to make me wish winter lasted longer. It can be spring whenever it wants at this point. The flowers are coming up over here, and Kip is willing to go on longer walks, and every night there’s another minute of sun.

Is it spring where you are? Do you have any seasonal hobbies? When you make things, is it to give away or to keep for yourself? Are you a hat person? I wouldn’t call myself a hat person, but I guess I am usually wearing them. What’s the alternative? A hair person? A head person? A helmet person?

Next week’s post will be a longer magazine issue, I can’t wait for you to see it.

Thanks for being here. I hope your week is full of people you love and signs of spring and that you always have the perfect amount of yarn you need.

We’re lucky to live in a neighborhood rich with little free libraries.

Every walk presents a fresh harvest of old travel guides, hardcover best-sellers, detective novels, and tens of thousands of printed words about Paw Patrol.

Peeking into a little free library feels a little bit like looking into my own brain. There are some gems there! But it’s mixed in with a lot of outdated reference materials and stuff that could be interesting but it turns out it’s soaking wet.

I like finding Little Free Library books to feature on here. So I was super excited when a few weeks ago The Knot’s Ultimate Wedding Gown Guide from 1999 appeared near us. When I saw it, I had the same thought I do whenever I notice a new idea in my brain, about a mail-order sock subscription service, or a tiny life-sized book about bugs, or knitting our dog a full-body sweater. I thought:

Wait, this is something.

I grabbed the book and started flipping through it, and I had the same feeling I often do when I think more about a new idea I have:

It’s even better than I thought.

On the very first page we’ve got a Joan Cusack inspired bride with a huge green computer, and an ad a website that looked like this at the time. This book is the best gift the universe has ever given me (besides my partner and dog and child).

I put my prized possession in my bag. Then a few days later I sat down with a lukewarm cup of coffee to write this post. And that’s when I had the exact same chilling realization I have whenever I start working on any idea:

Never mind, it’s nothing at all.

Upon closer inspection, the book is mostly 290 pages of photos of wedding dresses, for people with too slow an internet connection to look at them online.

And look, I’m not a fashion expert. I’m not even confident what jeans I should be wearing. But in my opinion these dresses look pretty cool. Not shockingly cool, but also not dated enough to be funny or interesting. The book is 290 pages of whatever.

Maybe if I’d found four wedding dress catalogs, from not just the 90s but also the 80s and 2000s, we’d have something. Maybe if it included prices, and wedding dress prices meant anything to me. Maybe if it was a turtleneck or crochet catalog. But as it was, the book wasn’t giving me much. I kept flipping through, sipping colder and colder coffee, and had the next thought I always have:

Unless… it is something.

The book is charmingly analog. Maybe you noticed (I didn’t) that the photos above don’t have any information accompanying them at all. That’s because they’re laid out “like baseball cards” so if you like a design, you cut it out with scissors, and the back side has a close-up photo with the dress info, for you to bring into a store. Here’s an example of a recto verso:

How delightfully moderately interesting, I thought. Still not much to see here.

And then, I found the quiz.

Ta-da!

I’m thrilled to present: an official style quiz with five wedding personality types!

Glamour Girl. It’s all about the attitude and the right tube of lipstick.

Regal Girl. Would it work at Westminster Abbey? Wear it.

Anything Goes Girl. Just wear it like you mean it.

Romantic Girl. Dig Deep. Indulge your fairy-tale fantasies.

Classic Girl. Sleek, simple, sophisticated—hey, you invented the look!

I love imagining someone who is ready to commit to a life partner, but is also flipping through this book whispering to themselves “I am a regal girl.” I love everything about it.

Here’s the quiz itself. Judging by the marginalia, our book owner was an “Anything Goes” girl. Not to get all child of two mathematicians here but because of the way this quiz is scored I think most people would be an Anything Goes girl.

Did you get magazines in the early 2000s? Did you also have friends over to wear matching bedazzled t-shirts and take personality quizzes together as you painted (and immediately smudged) your nails? How do these dresses look to you? They seem fine, right? Have you ever worn a super fancy outfit for an occasion? I want to hear all about it. I got a special jacket for one of my book tours, but in the end I just wore a sweater to every event. Do you have a lot of little free libraries near you, or regular size free libraries? Do all your ideas end up being good ideas?

Thanks for being here, even if sometimes it turns out the whole thing is wet.

Is it rude to assume you’ve never been to a recycling center? I’m just guessing you haven’t.

No offense, you seem cool! I bet you’ve seen a lot of things. I haven’t seen a recycling center either.

I’ve touched a lot of plastic bottles, and then put those bottles in recycling, but I have no idea what happened next. My relationship with plastic bottles ends the second I stop touching them. Sometimes it’s a relationship that’s only a few minutes long. I don’t feel good about it, but it’s true.

When we moved here, Boaz and I actually went to a presentation by our city’s head of recycling, where she talked about what can and can’t be recycled, and why.

Does knowing what can and can’t be recycled make me feel like I’m better than other people?

I see our neighbors fill their blue bins with things that absolutely cannot be recycled in our city. Maybe there’s a place on earth that could recycle cling wrap, but it’s not here. I’ve seen a microwave out there, that I guess someone thought a city employee was going to unscrew and melt down into raw materials.

We’ve had houseguests put used tissues in our recycling, and that little two inch strip of plastic that comes off a new milk carton, and even styrofoam containers. I pull them out, I explain that they go in the trash, and my loved ones, who I will not name, say

“I don’t put them in the trash, I can recycle styrofoam. I’m someone who recycles.”

None of us can recycle styrofoam. But I know what they mean.

Putting things in recycling is the most optimistic thing I do every day. More optimistic than bringing a book on a trip, buying a huge bag of kale, or setting my alarm for 7am as though a baby won’t wake me up before then.

When I hold a plastic bottle over a blue bin and let go, I tell myself it’s going somewhere good. The city is going to take it somewhere and turn it into a keychain, or another bottle, or a mouthguard for a sick child. I have no proof it will happen. That optimism helps me not feel bad about consuming more things in plastic bottles, and plastic cups, and plastic sleeves full of cookies and plastic tubs of lotion. Because I’m someone who recycles.

But how much optimism is a healthy amount? When does optimism become cluelessness?

This winter has been a long decade and a lot of days I fall squarely into being so pessimistic it’s delusional. So I’m glad I’m optimistic about one thing.

Have you been to a recycling center? Do you try to use less packaging? Boaz and I have reusable forks we try to bring places, but we don’t always remember. What’s the most egregious not-recyclable you’ve seen someone try to recycle? What other optimistic things do you do? I’d love to hear.

Thanks for being here and for being the perfect amount of optimistic with me. I hope this week all your recyclables end up where you want them to go, and that you get to read the book you wanted to read, and that a few good things happen you didn’t even expect.

Thanks again for everyone who read this month’s magazine post! I’m working on the April issue and can’t wait to show you.

And of course, Boaz has been to a recycling center:

I’ve never bought clothes for myself.

But I’ve bought a LOT of clothes for someone who looks like me and has my body, but leads a completely different life.

Once, on trip where I was already carrying too much, I saw a handwoven market bag. I have a pretty good memory of most of my life so far, and I couldn’t pull to mind a single time when a bag like this would have been at all useful.

But it was easy to imagine a different life, a life where I needed this bag very much.

A life where I went to the farmers’ market every morning, and filled the bag with kale and local butter. I’d put the butter in a vintage fridge and then load up my bag with magazines, a blanket, and a deck of cards, to head to the park. At the park I’d pull out some dried apricots and hand them to travelers, we’d sit and chat.

Then I’d wander to a beach nearby and fill my bag with shells and driftwood.

It wasn’t the first or last time I’ve looked at something I don’t own, and imagined a life I don’t have.

I don’t have waterproof clogs, and I’m not into pottery. Coincidence? Obviously not.

If I had waterproof clogs I’d be all about pottery. I’d have clay all over my clothes (it comes out in the wash no big deal) and I’d always whipping up a few vessels at night after the rest of the world went to sleep. I could wear the clogs indoors and outdoors, all while loving pottery.

What about fancy sweatpants. I don’t need these but you know who does?

A version of me who is going to spend the whole day reading. I’ve got a big stack of books, and coffee, and there’s snow outside but I don’t need to shovel. I could never do this with regular sweatpants, it’s a fancy sweatpants thing.

You know those old trench coats with no waterproofing or hoods? You know that one day a year when it’s not cold enough for a warm coat, and it’s not raining, and the weather isn’t fluctuating so you don’t need a coat that’s easy to carry if you take it off? You know the other four coats I already have for that exact weather? There’s a version of me that could really use a trench coat like that.

It’d be for walking around New York City with a large carrying case, wearing silk shoes and a silk shirt and drinking a black coffee. What’s in the carrying case? Architectural plans, if I had to guess. After my errands are done, Boaz and I would meet for Negronis at a little bar, and there would be free olives. In a coat like this you’re never more than five minutes away from free olives.

You know how I’m always wearing bandanas? Well, I’m not wearing them yet.

But if I had a bandana, I’d probably be living a super whimsical life. While you read this, I’d be exploring a city I’d never been to, with a paper map. It doesn’t have to be somewhere fancy, maybe Cleveland. Or gosh now that I typed that let’s say somewhere fancy. Let’s say Lisbon, Portugal. I’d be taking photos with a film camera, and they’d all look good because it’s Portugal, thank god I picked Portugal. I’d treat myself to balloons.

While I don’t wear scarves, or clogs, or impractical coats, I do own more secondhand t-shirts than I need in this lifetime. But I don’t own any of the right ones.

When I find the right vintage t-shirt, I’ll have my whole life together. I’ll throw it on, and become the version of myself that was in there all along, and just needed a Space Jam t-shirt, or a Tokyo Disney t-shirt, or a t-shirt from a 2002 family reunion to reach my final form. Every morning I’ll write for a bit. I’ll reach out to friends when I think of them, I’ll plan my life around the best that could happen, not the worst. And if I see something that would turn me into someone I’m not, I won’t want it. I’ll already be exactly who I want to be.

Do you have a habit of imagining a different life when you see a good pen, or a really useful bag, or a coat or hat? Have you been tempted by secondhand shoes that were only one size too small? What do you imagine could be really useful in a different life? In reality I almost never buy these things and end up wearing the same shirt every day, and I still like my life how it is.

But, I’m also staying open to the possibility that Oprah will invite me to her garden, and I’ll need something to carry a squash in while I’m there.

Thanks for being here. I hope this week you can imagine all the best lives for yourself and that you’re living a few of them right now.

Last week I shared the second installment of my monthly issue with longer comics, thanks to everyone who commented on your career dreams and aptitudes growing up!

Have you heard the tip, that when you meet someone new you shouldn’t ask their job, but instead ask “how do you spend your time?”

It’s a nice idea. Assuming everyone has a full-time career leaves many people out, and why are we centering conversations around capitalism anyway? I’ve been asked “How do you spend your time?” and found it disturbingly existential, but I appreciated the thought.

Do people still ask kids what they want to be when they grow up? When I was a kid, it felt like everyone wanted to know. And I wanted an answer for them.

Welcome to Issue #2 of Nervous Magazine, about what jobs we wanted when we grew up. Nervous magazine is a monthly newsletter with more comics than usual. And you’re already reading it! This is how you spend your time!

What kind of benefits do wizards get

As a kid, all jobs fell into two groups: jobs I knew about because people I knew did them, and jobs that didn’t seem like jobs at all, and in hindsight weren’t jobs at all.

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Last week I accidentally did two posts in one day, so today you’re getting Dragon Drop! Do you remember anything great you’ve misheard or misunderstood? This is my favorite one lately, but I don’t know if it’s in my top ten of all time.

I’m working on next week’s longer post and want to know: what job did you want when you were a kid? What about that job appealed to you? Do you think you still would like it now? I’ll be illustrating some of them for next week.

If you’d rather send a message instead of leave a comment you can do that here:Th

Thanks for being here, I hope your week is full of Dragon Drop features, whatever those are.

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For anyone worried - I don’t have a soft spot, it’s only the baby who does. And the baby IS differentiating between himself and us a bit lately. He’s figuring it out faster than I am.

How permeable is the barrier between you and the outside world? Lately it feels like my skin and my vision and my phone screen are all made of wet tissue paper, there’s nothing separating me from everything. I guess this is what grounding exercises are for. But my hair looks great!

Do you feel a little bit of pain when you drop your coffee cup in the sink? Does the whole world feel objectively worse when you’re hungry? Is object permanence (the fact that someone still exists even if they hide under a blanket) still a concept you’re grappling with?

I hope you’re connected to all the things you want to be, and that your week is full of warm and soft and just-the-right-volume things. Thanks for being here.

Now that Valentine’s Day is over, let’s talk about it. Did you celebrate it growing up? Did you exchange valentines at school? Once when I was staying with my sister, she’d run out of time to make valentines with her kids for them to bring to school, so we stayed up late trying to draw valentines that could have conceivably been made by three-year-olds. I think we did a pretty good job.

Do you celebrate Valentines Day an adult? I’m not sure who it’s really for, pizza makers I guess.

Thanks for being here, I hope you can buy yourself a pizza today.

In case you missed it: last week I shared the first issue of a longer monthly Nervous Magazine, about comebacks. Thanks to everyone who read it and commented, I’ve been thinking about your comebacks all the time. I’m…

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Welcome to the first issue of Nervous Magazine! A longer collection of comics and stories on a super-specific theme. This month is all about comebacks.

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Future monthly issues will get even cooler, and include illustrations based on your comments, physical mail, real life surprises, collaborations with cool people, and more. I’m really excited about it. Don’t be nervous. Or do! You do you.

Insults and Comebacks

Keep reading for more of the Comebacks issue:

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When I was nine, my family moved to Minnesota. My mom had me draw a cartoon of the seven of us bundled in s…

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Every family has them - maybe Frosted Flakes were fine but for some reason Kix was too sugary, or Kix was fine but Lucky Charms was too sugary, or chocolatey cereals were only for weekends. My family ate Cinnamon Life and Frosted Mini Wheats every day except Sunday, and on Sunday anything was fair game. Fruity Pebbles and Crunch Berries were my favorite Sunday cereals.

And every family also has their own rules about forbidden words. We weren’t allowed to say hate, butt, or stupid, and the long shadow of that rule prevents me from saying that I hate board games. Instead I’ll say… I don’t really like board games. There are things that I enjoy, and board games aren’t one of them.

But life just ends up involving a lot of board games (just like it involves butts and stupid things). And as much as I dislike board games, there’s such a wide range of dislike. There are some games I don’t mind and almost enjoy, and then there are ones that involve counting wheat, learning about war, or wondering if your brother is lying to you.

So with lots of indoor time coming up this season, here’s my list of least-offensive board games, from someone who won’t say they hate board games. (But wants to say it.)

Hot Streak

Boaz and I walked into the game store to look at something else and bought this because WOW look how cute it is. The little mascots race each other down a field and you don’t control the race itself, you just bet money on which mascot is going to win. The best part of this game (or second-best, after how much I love the little hot dog costume) is that you don’t take turns, so you’re never wondering who’s next or waiting for someone to come back from the bathroom.

Wingspan

Once you learn how to play, it’s a chill non-competitive game with lots of bird facts and very-edible-looking playing pieces. No matter who we play it with, no matter what’s going on that day, no matter which birds I’ve collected, there’s always a point in the middle of the game where I think “I wish we didn’t have to play this anymore.” But I push through. And eventually, we’re not playing anymore. For me that’s why I play games, to remind myself that all bad things end. No game lasts forever. Apparently other people play them because they like them.

Codenames

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