I just recently spent six days at Chelan in the woods — “the woods” is code for “there was no wifi” — with a good friend and it was everything I needed. I leaned into all the -ings. Eating, reading, writing, sleeping, cooking, dreaming, staring, nothing. A whole lot of nothing. I read Crazy Rich Asians. Played Yahtzee. Went bowling during half-price day, and walked along the water. She found Kingsman in the cabin’s DVD collection, so we made vodka cocktails (heavy on the lime) and watched that one night with our feet up. It was probably the eighth time I’d seen it because I’m a COLIN FIRTH FANGIRL. I think he’s my #1 on the ole celebrity exception list, now that Alan Rickman is gone. This is perhaps the most American thing I may say in my lifetime, but the fight scene (tw: very graphic, lotsa murder) where he kills 40 people in one long, continual church scene is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, and the only time in history when “Freebird” was the perfect soundtrack.