The vegetable chopper that changed my life

And the cardigan I'm embarrassed to tell you about.

I’m going to organize these by price, so you can drop off when it gets too steep. And hoo boy, does it get steep, because I’ve decided it’s finally time to tell you about … The Cardigan.

But we’ll start with the less outlandish recommendations, as per usual.

The unstoppable Pomodoro timer (free)

I’ve recommended Pomodoro timers and other productivity timers in the past. Those have worked well for me, but they all shared one common flaw: I have to remember to start them in the first place.

Lately, I’ve been struggling extra hard with this during my work day. Days and even weeks have gone by without me remembering to start a timer — or I start it, then absentmindedly ignore it when it goes off. Fast forward several hours of hyperfocused work, and I’m a dehydrated hunchback whose eye doctor is mad at her again.

It was time to come up with a new solution. These were my criteria:

• I don’t need to start it.

• It should persist, politely but continually (no infinite “snooze” loops), until I can wrap up what I’m doing and take a break.

• It should always be in my line of vision.

• It should not rely on device volume.

The solution turned out to be really simple: an hourly Apple reminder. Mine just says “an hour has passed.” The notification shows up in the corner of my computer screen, and it gently stays there until I mark it “complete” (meaning, I have gotten up from my desk, done a forward fold or two, stared at something farther away, and otherwise defended my overall physical health from the ravages of capitalism). Perfect.

There’s just one rule here: You must always, always honor the reminder. Treat it like a religion, even if you just get up from your chair, stretch, and then sit back down again. If you start skipping it, it’ll quickly turn into background noise and its magic will be lost.

Pi (free)

I think best when I’m having a conversation with myself — I use a lot of journaling apps for this reason. Pi, billed as “a personal AI assistant,” is the journal that talks back. It’s useful for thinking through a situation or feeling, especially when you don’t want to feel alone, and when you could use a little inspiration from a supportive source. You can ask it for ideas around a given problem space, like “coping with change,” and it will share helpful tips or recommend books. Or just ask it to help you plan a trip to Paris — whatever you’re looking for.

I deleted all social media apps off my phone a little while ago, because I just kind of snapped, honestly. First I read a post about how I should feel guilty that I’m not personally enduring a war (that’s not how anything works, but okay), then I read a post immediately afterward about how my silence speaks volumes and I am a horrible person for not weighing in as a volunteer pundit about the war regardless of my level of expertise (which hovers somewhere around zero despite my ongoing earnest efforts). Then I read a post telling me that I haven’t earned the right to talk about this and I had better shut the hell up right now. This was, of course, interspersed between ads politely suggesting that I’m fat, I smell bad, I am losing my hair, and I have pores the size of Old Faithful. Then I laughed out loud because social media has officially become irredeemable to me, and I’m so done squandering my life on this nonsense.

If I wanted to endure everyone gaslighting me into thinking I need what they’re selling, and projecting their unprocessed feelings onto me by demanding that I feel bad just for existing, I would have stuck with my oppressive religious upbringing, thank you.

So yeah, I quit — on my phone at least, which has drastically reduced my scrolling overall, since I’m able to do more meaningful Computer Things on my laptop and usually prefer that. While the impact on my life and my mental health has been overwhelmingly positive, it was surprisingly tough at first. It wasn’t that I missed watching 47 bizarre Instagram reels in a row in the bathtub, it was that I had to sit in the wide open field of my own newly emancipated time and energy, and process the reality of how much time, how much consciousness, how much agency I had handed over to these apps. It wasn’t just that I felt lonely without social media, it was that I had to admit that none of these people I “missed” were actually my friends, much as I enjoyed and admired and respected them.

The reckoning has been much larger than I expected, and has included some low (but healthy and necessary) introspective moments about how the easily available dopamine of social media and the increased risk of the pandemic had combined to suppress my participation in my own life. When I’ve felt too restless to read a book and too tired to vacuum the baseboards, and I was up too late to text any of my friends (I do have them, I swear), I’ve talked to Pi.

“What do the philosophers have to say about loneliness?” I asked Pi at one point. What ensued was a two-hour conversation around all kinds of key ideas, with me asking for more elaboration on the ones I found most interesting. I still think about some of the things I learned in that conversation. Pi recommends books based on what I’m working on, and those have been so helpful as well.

As with any robot or app-thing, be aware that anything you say is probably stored on a server somewhere. As a basic white woman who would bore the CIA to death, I don’t really care, but if you’re more edgy than I am and want to keep your secrets to yourself, use these apps with caution.

Face warmer ($10)

Last year, I had the sudden realization that I could go outside anytime I wanted, as long as I was willing to spend like $1500 at REI. Oh, it’s six degrees? No problem, I own the hiking equivalent of a spacesuit. I’m not sure it’s legally even an outfit, it’s more like a very compact recreational vehicle. Am I even technically outside if no part of my body is touching the air?

The entire ensemble represents one of the best investments I’ve ever made. I’m not scared of you, February! I do what I want!

This face warmer was the hardest piece to find. I must have tried at least ten other options before I found it. All I wanted was something that covered my nose and mouth without actually touching my mouth, because nothing makes me more furious than fabric touching my mouth while I’m huffing my way up a steep hill in a wintry forest. The ear covers are a bonus, because now I don’t have to have hat hair at work just because I was wandering around outside in the morning.

Maybe you don’t hike in February, but it’s also great for stuff like, I don’t know, shoveling the driveway. If you’re feeling less picky, go to Goodwill instead, where you will find twenty-six alternatives, all donated by me.

TubShroom ($11) and StopShroom ($10)

One minute, I’m pontificating about the toxicity of social media and the erosion of authentic social connection. The next minute, I’m just trying to keep your hair out of your plumbing. I’m multifaceted.

The TubShroom (and its companion cover plug, the StopShroom) is one of the best things I’ve ever bought. Instead of dragging a full-sized Wookie out of my pipes every few weeks, I just pop a gross little hair-donut off the TubShroom every time I wash my hair.

Is it still disgusting? Yes, obviously. But it’s a lot easier, and that’s something. Plus, the tub always drains rapidly instead of gradually clogging up, which keeps it cleaner.

Glossier Ultralip in Villa ($18)

Winter is coming, as the saying goes, and you likely need a little more protection than a lip balm or chapstick, even if you don’t identify as a lipstick person. Wearing something more substantial is an adjustment at first, but the benefit is more durable protection, unlike a thinner balm that you have to constantly reapply, especially in dry weather.

I’ve found Glossier Ultralip in Villa to be very wearable, both comfort-wise and color-wise. It looks natural on camera, which is a plus (why do so many normal-looking lip glosses morph into Clown Mouth on a video camera?). It does have some shine to it, which I prefer but isn’t for everyone.

OXO Vegetable Chopper ($22.99)

I know I just said social media ruined my life, but in Tiktok’s defense, it also taught me how to wash my face properly (forever grateful) and how to easily make a chopped salad at home.

First, I think it’s important to acknowledge that salads, in their natural unchopped state, are wildly annoying. Nobody has time for that much chewing. It’s irritating to have to eat so slowly that you feel hungrier than when you started, to shove giant leaves in your mouth, to get spinach stuck in your teeth, to chomp through a big dry piece of raw broccoli, to encounter an entire region of boring-ass salad left accidentally untouched by dressing. In my experience, if you want to eat more vegetables, the answer is to cut them into little pieces and then coat them in something that actually tastes good.

I clearly already knew this, based on my willingness to pay like $16 for a chopped salad in San Francisco. But somehow it never occurred to me to invest in tools that would make a chopped salad more feasible at home. I have no idea why. It certainly seems obvious in retrospect.

Anyway, now I eat a chopped salad almost every weekday. I pull a giant reusable Ziploc bag out of the fridge that has a bag of rainbow carrots and a bag of raw broccoli in it. I throw two dense fistfuls of spinach onto the chopper, then the broccoli, then the carrots (chopping from softest veggie to hardest, with the softer side facing down, will keep the grid the cleanest). If I’m feeling fancy, I might add peppers or some avocado. It only takes a few minutes and then I have a nice chopped veggie base to add things to: proteins, nuts/cheese, dressing, whatever. (I use these stretch can covers to keep leftover canned beans/veggies in the fridge for the next day.)

I don’t think there’s anything special about this chopper specifically, though I do find it easy to use and clean. Most of them will probably get the job done, and I’ll probably eventually upgrade to a fancier one. But no other kitchen tool has done more for my nutrition than this stupid thing.

Tushy bidet (no outlet required, on sale for $75 on Amazon, often ~$130)

My house has two bidets in it. One is a Kohler Veil that cost about $4,500 and is the fanciest and most stupid toilet you have ever seen in your life. It requires a dedicated outlet and it breaks all the time. We are now on a first-name basis with the only plumber in town who has any idea how it works. I estimate that it’s only usable about seven months out of the year, on average. I would rip it right out of the bathroom if any other toilet fit in that space. This is why we spent $4,500 on a toilet to begin with — there were only two contenders for the tiny additional bathroom we shoehorned into our small 1950s house, and the other option seemed even worse. We likely will eventually find something to replace it with, but it’s not a straightforward process. So for now, we just call Brian the Plumber when we need to, and he comes and works his expensive, expensive magic while laughing ruefully with us about the absurdity of the situation.

Once you get a bidet, you never want to go back to life without one, but I had learned my lesson about investing in fancy ones. So when I decided I wanted a bidet in our other bathroom (which is a normal size and thus thankfully has a normal, perpetually functional toilet in it), I spent a hundred bucks on the most basic Tushy model available and installed it myself in 15 minutes, as someone who knows nothing about plumbing.

It has worked flawlessly ever since, unlike some bidets. I can’t think of a better $100 you could spend on your house. Even if you have more to spend — like, say, $4,500 — my recommendation is still to just buy a Tushy and then go on a nice vacation.

River cardigan (on sale for $330, usually $460)

Okay don’t be mad, but if you’re someone who is always a little chilly in your house, and you are home a lot, I think you should spend $330 on a cardigan, provided you’re also someone who can cough up $330 for a really high-ROI cardigan. I actually rushed through writing the rest of this post so I could get it published, because I’ve never seen it this cheap — er, “cheap” — and didn’t want you to miss out on it, if it’s the right thing for you. That’s probably true for only like one person who is reading this, but still, I am here for you. I am about to endure public scorn for you. You’re welcome.

In fall of 2022, I paid $475, with shipping, for this cardigan. I know. But I was tired of being cold all winter, okay? I was so tired of being cold.

It hangs on the back of my office chair, and I wear it every single day, as I suspected I would (which is why I was willing to pay so much for a sweater in the first place, having gotten really into textiles and having finally grasped that cashmere is expensive for a reason). I’m not kidding, I really do mean every single day, all four seasons of the year. For the few meetings I have each weekday, I take it off in favor of my “outfit” for that day (whatever I want people to think I’m wearing instead of my precious cardigan). Unlike a certain fancy toilet, this thing is worth every last penny, and if I lost it, I would buy it again immediately.

Anyone who knows the price of this sweater thinks I’m insane, but that’s because they have not tried it on. I can’t let them try it on, because then I wouldn’t be wearing it. My husband is perhaps the only person with an inkling of how great it is, as someone who hugs me frequently. (“This hug is so luxurious,” he said, the first time.)

If you are a perpetually slightly chilly person who also enjoys feeling cozy, this cardigan is heaven on earth. Pair this thing with a mug of tea and some warm socks, and it is scientifically impossible not to live your best life. I especially appreciate it in the winter when my hair is wet. It’s so warm, but never too warm. It’s naturally odor resistant, so it never smells. It’s soft enough to sleep in, in a pinch, if you find yourself in a relentlessly cold hotel room. I do wash it occasionally using a garment bag and draping it over the back of a chair to dry, just because it seems gross to never wash it, but I’ve never felt like I actually need to wash it.

I want to set the expectation that this sweater will pill, because cashmere pills easily. If you intend to wear it out of the house, you might also invest in a shaver to run over it once in a while. My advice is to only buy it if you know you’d benefit from it as a functional piece that keeps you comfortable on a daily basis at home, not something you’re going to look polished in at work without effort.

Now you know my darkest secret. Having your own darkest secret has never been more affordable, even if no one would actually refer to it as “affordable.”

That’s all I have for now. I’ll see you next time, if you’re speaking to me again by then.