Thanksgiving glimmers, 40 of your favorite books, and G's mini gift guide.

A November roundup of my most "forward-worthy" things.

View from my parents’ deck.

There's something grounding about returning to the home where I grew up, the one my parents have lived in for over forty years. Much of it's the same: the hanging brass bells that clang by the front gate, the way the light spills into the kitchen, and the spots in the wooden floors that still creak loudly underfoot. I love seeing Sloan, who's also spent a lot of time here, perched at the counter eating breakfast, exploring the trees I spent my childhood climbing, curled up near the fire while the fog rolls in. There's a kind of magic, and knowing that she and G appreciate it as much as I do only deepens the feeling.

Coming to Mill Valley at Thanksgiving looks different now than in my twenties. Back then, I focused on what to wear that Wednesday night, when a decent amount of our graduating class would cram into the 2 am Club, the town's only dive bar. It was always a thrill, that momentary feeling that you'd somehow reinvented yourself since you'd last seen old acquaintances. But over cheap beer and loud music, I always left deflated, the same girl in new clothes. 

Yesterday, after a rainy day in the city, I arrived home and went straight into the hot tub. I remained there, breathing in the chlorine air until my cheeks were red and my fingers wrinkled. I last lived here nearly twenty years ago, yet nowhere else offers this same clarity or calm.

And in that quiet moment, I remembered something I’d come across recently (on TikTok, of all places)—a concept called 'glimmers,’ which are the opposite of triggers. The small, fleeting moments that spark a sudden lift in your chest, make your shoulders drop, or fill you with deep, quiet gratitude. The idea is simple: once you start noticing them, these glimmers appear more often, like tiny beacons of light on an ordinary day. I've shared a few of mine below, but more than anything, I hope this week, which I know can be difficult for many, can also be a reminder to notice the softer moments, however small, that make everything feel just a little bit lighter.

Some of my glimmers from yesterday:

The smell of pine. The crackle of a fireplace. Walking back inside the moment it starts to rain. Early, quiet mornings. Window shopping with a hot coffee. Sloan reaching for my hand when she's feeling unsure. A friend texting at the exact moment I was thinking of her. A cat (shout out to Opal) cuddling me for the first time. The way my parents still hold hands. Running into friends (Kevin and Josh!) you haven't seen in a long time. A hand-drawn menu at a coffee shop. Remembering the role an actor played without consulting IMDB. Seeing G and my dad in the kitchen together. 

Your next great read:

One of my not-so-great traits is that I tend to stick with a book until the end, even if the entire experience is a slog. So, the first night we got here, I decided to break that habit and finally put down the book I’d been forcing myself to finish, opting for something far more enjoyable. I asked for your recommendations for the last truly great book you’ve read and compiled it into 40 of your top suggestions.