As you (better) know, Mother’s Day is Sunday. Please don’t forget to give your lovely mom a visit, or at least a call, to let her know you’re thinking of her. And if your significant other also happens to be the mother of your child, as a world-weary matron myself, I have never felt as strongly about anything: On Sunday, take your kid(s) and get the hell out of the house. For as long as possible; this is what zoos are for. Your relieved and fatigued bride should then feel free to do that binge-watching thing on Netflix all the kids are talking about, get a manicure, go to the movies, or (my plan), drink mimosas with like-minded girlfriends.
Or better yet, just enjoy the all-too-rare silence and take a turbo-nap. If my husband brought me home a Yankee Candle or some bubble bath, I might throw it at his head: I need sleep. Best of all, this gift is less expensive than that pointless Pandora charm bracelet you were planning on. Sure, I’m not going to throw a card away, especially if it’s one my kid wrote: one year, my son told me I was “not as lazy as you think.” That’s because I’m tired all the time. And that’s why the greatest mother’s day gift of all, friends, is a nap. A wonderful Sunday to you and yours. [Gwen Ihnat]
I’ve loved the artist Edward Gorey for years, and I find that I get along well with other people who appreciate his um, specific sense of humor. (One of his best-known tales is The Gashlycrumb Tinies, in which he illustrates an alphabet’s worth of ways people could meet their end.) My friend just gifted me an Edward Gorey appointment book, and I couldn’t be more excited to use it as an excuse to revisit all my Gorey favorites this weekend. [Kate Bernot]
There’ve been plenty of frightening images coming out of Hawaii, where Kilauea and its lava flows have been wreaking havoc and upending lives. But I’ve never seen anything like the footage above, of lava flowing like a waterfall into the sea—I don’t have enough holy shits in me. Stay safe, Hawaii friends. [Kevin Pang]