Lowering the bar

Just enough so you can get over it.

Hi!

The other day, Lua who is now four years old, opened the door to check the weather and reported back: “It is chilly and warm.” This felt to me like a perfect way to describe October in LA. On its best days, the air is cool and a little misty, and the sun is strong. You can wear a button-down and no jacket, or a longsleeve and shorts, or really whatever the hell you want. A swimsuit and a sweater? It is chilly and warm.

That’s apropos of nothing, but I wanted to share it, so here we are. I’ve been long remiss in writing, which brings me to today’s topic: lowering the bar. In journalism school, when I was being precious about my prose or delaying a deadline to nail down just one more quote my professors would say: “Don’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good.”

It’s a useful bit of advice for a writer on a deadline, but also for anyone who wants to achieve anything, ever.

It’s not that I’m endorsing lowering one’s standards (though maybe I am?). It’s more about making sure you don’t let perfectionism prevent you from doing the thing at all. Whether that thing is making dinner, getting in a workout, calling a friend, or writing something: Don’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good.

I find this to be extremely relevant now that I have two kids. I don’t think of it as surrendering to mediocrity (yikes!). It’s more of an embrace of reality—and a reality that is, hey, pretty good. There’s a time and a place.

Here’s how I’ve been implementing it lately.

Store-bought pie crust (and other prepared foods). I’m truly not proud of this, especially since realizing the Trader Joe’s frozen pie crust I used contains palm oil—but many, including Kroger (aka Ralph’s) and Pillsbury do not. What’s more important than the crust itself is what I did with it, which is cover this truly delicious chicken-tarragon pot pie, that everyone in my family ate. The chicken was leftover rotisserie chicken. I also outsourced the chopping of carrots, celery, and leeks to a visiting grandparent. (Let people help you!)

In addition to the full-sized pie, we made Lua a miniature double-crust version in a ramekin, which was both adorable and effective. Next time, I would do double-crust for the whole shebang. If I’m feeling ambitious, I’ll use this recipe, which also appears in the wonderful baking book Genius Desserts. But let’s be honest, I probably won’t. (I literally wrote an article 10 years ago declaring “I will not buy the crust,” as if I were trolling my future self. These are different times.) Don’t let the perfect be the enemy of this very good dinner.

A 10-minute stretch. I’ve been scraping out time to surf lately, but almost never time to stretch, which leaves my body in a pretty achey place—especially as my smaller kid is not that small, but loves to be carried. The greatest gift I could give myself (aside from some sort of spa getaway) would be Cindy Fraser’s one-hour “Slow Deep Stretch” class at Santa Monica Yoga, which can also be live-streamed. The first time I went, I was the youngest attendee by a decade or two, which is just the way I like my workouts. (Many of the guys I get waves with might also be AARP members.) But I digress.

I haven’t been able to take a one-hour yoga class in the last few months, but I have found a Yoga with Adriene video entitled “10 Minute Full Body Stretch” that is SO much better than not stretching. I hurt less after I do this. The magic of 10 minutes is that it’s really hard to tell yourself that you don’t have time. Come on. It’s 10 minutes.

A fatigue eraser for my face. I jest, kind of. Somewhere between pregnancy and the pandemic, most remaining modesty about my public appearance disintegrated. HOWEVER, if I feel the need to look a smidge more rested where my face is concerned, I’ve come to appreciate this giant “complexion stick” from Ilia, which is 20% off at Credo’s sale through tomorrow. (Full disclosure: the brand sent me one of these for free. The shade was slightly off—my fault—but I was so convinced that I just bought one myself. I wear Iroko, in case that’s a helpful reference.) Would another hour of sleep make me look better? Probably. A full face of makeup, applied outside the confines of my car? Perhaps also yes. But you get the point.

This newsletter. I often don’t send this letter at all because I feel I don’t have time to compose the fully realized, beautiful art-laden missive worthy of you, dear reader. What I have instead is Post-It’s and iPhone notes full of ideas while you get … nothing. So I’m going to try to take my own advice here and fire off more good newsletters because, well, they’ll never be perfect anyway.

Wish I sent this on Sunday, but hey! Here we are.

Have a good day—and a great week.

Love,

Jenni

P.S.

Somebody Somewhere, the kindest, funniest show on television, is back on HBO. Bridget Everett was recently on Fresh Air discussing the show and her life with Terry Gross. I listened to this entire 45-minute episode while cleaning my kitchen after dinner, which is how I learned exactly how long it takes to do a better-than-good job at that task—and a great way to make it enjoyable.

Jeff Hiller and Bridget Everett in Somebody Somewhere.