Some Complicated Thoughts About Ilona Maher Who I Also Truly Love
Get something sweet! Plus my new yard sign and how to replace your key fob battery (because I need to do it too.)
Hello Burnt Toasties! We’re back from summer break—how I’ve missed you!
And look, I will never rush the end of summer (still 3 more weeks to go thank you, dahlias are going strong!). But my kids head back to school today and I’ve got that fresh new pencils/lfggg feeling. Especially because—as always happens when I take a writing break—there have been many Burnt Toast-adjacent conversations happening, and I’ve been itching to talk to you about them. So in lieu of a formal essay today, you’re going to get a brain dump of takes (ranging from barely to almost-fully formed) plus links and other bits and pieces I’ve been collecting all month, and thinking, “oooh, I need to discuss this with BT.”
Starting with: Ilona Maher, who is America’s sweetheart but — I’m sorry, I’m gonna say it!—not the body liberation hero we need right now.
