PicoBlog

As I write this, it has been one year since I was introduced to the man I love. Today, on our anniversary, it felt appropriate to finally reveal his identity and tell our story. I have been hesitant about telling that story for several critical reasons. One, I wanted to give the seeds of our affections proper soil, water, and time to grow in private, unmediated. Yes, I know that sounds crazy coming from someone who does not shy away from writing personal stories for a living, but it felt important, to both of us, to keep the bubble of our privacy safe and out of the performative glare of social media for as long as necessary, as we navigated this new incarnation of we.

Hello! I'm Jason Howell, podcast veteran since 2005 for TWiT and CNET. The times they are a-changin’, so I’ll get right to the good stuff: I’m going independent! Why now? Well, after 13 years of producing and hosting technology podcasts for TWiT, I’ve been let go amidst a tumultuous climate for podcasting and advertising. I’ll share my thoughts about my tenure at TWiT in the coming days, but suffice it to say, we parted ways on great terms and I wish the TWiT team nothing but the best as they move forward into a challenging 2024.

It's something you need and yet it's not something you know. Nothing here to care about; that's what they say. That's what I say! That's what they say! What's that sound? I am thinking about what it means. To be nostalgic. Sometimes I think I put too much meaning on things. What's that song about? Nothing. It's not about anything because it's not anything at all. I'm thinking about that feeling about the feeling about the feeling about the feeling.

A few months ago I received the following WhatsApp message from a number I didn’t recognize: Even though it was clear this message was the lead-in to a swindle of some kind, I had to pause and admire the craft that went into its composition. Like everyone else, I get scam text come-ons pretty frequently, and they’re always poorly pitched and low-energy. In contrast, this text opened up a rich world, animated by detail and alive with mystery.

(Pop quiz: Was I having an orgasm or a contraction in this photo? Answer below :) *First some housekeeping: I’m officially off maternity leave and back to work! Just to be clear, I’ve been working my butt off taking care of my new baby and now I’m re-entering the work-force. This means you’ll be receiving 2 posts a month, every other Thursday. Yay! My plan is to share something old and something new.

By Dr. C.M. Curtis 4/06/2024 Lipophobia was, and among some people continues to be, an eating disorder that was started in the 1970s by people who wrote books about the dangers of dietary fats. Later, a United States Senate Committee on Nutrition and Human Needs published its nutritional guidelines and ushered in the lipophobic era. Fat-free, low fat, and no fat, were the catchwords of the lipophobic era, and the terms persist today.

Hello! I was on my way to the departure gates at the Indianapolis Airport last month when I heard a familiar song playing. I instantly recognized it, though not the version that was blasting through the large speakers outside the food court. “Ah, it’s Total Eclipse of the Heart!” I thought. “With a dance beat!” This was three days before the total solar eclipse (of the heart) hit Indianapolis – but hearing Bonnie Tyler’s 1980s classic had me thinking of something else.

Readers, I try to let the little things roll off me. I really do. But there’s one VERY SILLY thing that keeps riling me up right now, so I thought this could be a good time for all of us to share our pet peeves, even if they feel petty or trite, mainly because I really want an excuse to vent about mine. My kids usually take the school bus to school, but on days when my daughter has chorus or band, I have to drive her.

Sometimes, food memories are bound up in the food itself. Other times, it’s about the setting, or the people you’ve experienced it with. In my mind, it’s childhood food memories that are often the most powerful. To this day, the smell of my grandma’s roasted chicken recipe transports me right back into her kitchen in late 1960s New York. There’s nothing quite like a perfect roasted chicken, especially served with her pan gravy.