weekly digest #29
july 13-19, 2026: doctors appointments, northanger abbey, our man bashir, sewing the hinterland dress by hand, some tchotchke treasures
On Wednesday I met with my long covid/ME specialist for the first time in forever1; it was refreshing to talk to a doctor who actually understands my condition better than I do and wants to help me improve it. My other current doctors have been writing scripts for medications that someone else prescribed me years ago, and we’ve all been hoping that they’re the right ones.
The ME specialist asked me how long I’m currently able to stand or sit upright and when I gave him the numbers I’ve gotten used to living with, he said, “that’s not very good.” He’s right! It’s not very good! I’ve improved so much from the initial onset of my illness that I kind of forgot I could ask for it to be better. I’m still extremely limited, but because being able to do anything at all is such an improvement, and no one else was offering me anything to increase my function, I’d gotten complacent. Not that I’m not trying to improve, but you kind of get used to feeling like shit all the time. It’s easy to forget how your body is supposed to feel. (Not like shit.)
reading
I spent most of the week rereading Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen (published 1818), which was funnier than I remembered. Take for example the opening lines:
No one who had ever seen Catherine Morland in her infancy would have supposed her born to be an heroine. Her situation in life, the character of her father and mother, her own person and disposition, were all equally against her. Her father was a clergyman, without being neglected, or poor, and a very respectable man, though his name was Richard—and he had never been handsome. He had a considerable independence besides two good livings—and he was not in the least addicted to locking up his daughters. Her mother was a woman of useful plain sense, with a good temper, and, what is more remarkable, with a good constitution. She had three sons before Catherine was born; and instead of dying in bringing the latter into the world, as anybody might expect, she still lived on—lived to have six children more—to see them growing up around her, and to enjoy excellent health herself.
Austen pokes fun at the popular novels of the time, which Catherine is obsessed with. This obsession gets her into some minor trouble when she’s invited to the titular Northanger Abbey as a guest of the Tilney family and convinces herself that a Gothic plot is surely unfolding around her. Henry Tilney catches her snooping and informs her that she’s mistaken – his father isn’t a murderer, just an asshole. Luckily this nosiness doesn’t prevent Henry from falling in love with her.
Northanger Abbey is probably the least complex of Austen’s novels. There are hints of what she’ll explore more in depth in subsequent works – the precarious financial situations of women, the risks of marrying badly, the hypocrisy of polite society, propriety vs. true morality – but here she only touches on them. The novel is also strange for me specifically because Tilney, the surname of four different characters, is my mom’s first name. It’s not a name I’ve encountered anywhere else in fiction, or in real life for that matter.
I’m now rereading Sense and Sensibility, which I’m excited about. I love the Dashwood sisters.
watching
I’m still watching Star Trek: DS9 with my dad. On Monday night we watched Our Man Bashir, an episode where the crew get stuck in a holosuite simulation of a Bond-like spy thriller. It’s a perfect parody, made even better by the complaints of Garak, an alien and an actual spy, who is unfamiliar with the human culture being emulated but horrified by its inaccuracies in spycraft.
A few years ago I started watching all the Bond movies in order (I love to give myself a project) but they kept getting shuffled around to different streaming services and I never finished2. I watched fourteen of the twenty-five movies, though, and it seems a shame to give up when it made it more than half way. Maybe I’ll get back to them this year.
listening
I’ve been listening to Chess again. What a weird musical. I really want to see this one staged – I can’t imagine it working as a piece of theater. (By all reports it doesn’t.) It has some good songs though. Honestly, I can’t believe they never covered Nobody’s Side or Pity The Child on Glee. I can picture the Rachel Berry solo, and not just because I’m listening to Lea Michele’s voice.
eating & drinking
For dinner this week my parents made egg roll in a bowl, broccoli and tofu fried rice, white beans and sausage with kale, pork chops with broccoli and roasted potatoes, zucchini pasta with ricotta and basil, and sweet corn risotto. We also had frozen pizza one night – the Motor City Pizza Co. frozen pizza is surprisingly good. Like, not just good for a frozen pizza but actually good.
making & mending
I finally finished my completely hand sewn hinterland dress wearable toile, made from a thrifted cotton bedsheet. It was originally cream, but I threw it in the wash with my new fabric and it turned pale pink. Oh well!
The bodice is lined (this fabric is slightly see through) and the skirt and pockets are french seamed. I learned a lot making this and I’m very glad I made this version before cutting into my nice fabric. I want to lengthen the skirt a few inches and the button placket needs proper interfacing. I tried using an extra layer of cotton instead of fusible interfacing, mostly out of curiosity, since I had seen someone do this somewhere on youtube, but it wasn’t strong enough and the button placket is warping. I also want to try a grown on button placket next time, which should make it easier to pattern match the gingham I’m going to use. And I need to be more patient when attaching the gathered skirt to the bodice – dealing with gathers is the only time I wish I had a sewing machine.
But overall I’m happy with the dress! It fits pretty well and is both cute and comfortable. I might eventually use the rest of the sheet to make a half slip that I can layer under this dress (and anything else), since the unlined skirt is pretty thin.
shopping
I ordered a copy of The Walk Book by Sean Thor Conroe, the first novel published by lit mag Little Engines. Every copy of the book is free. (There’s an optional gratuity, and shipping is $6.) What a fascinating publishing model. The copy of The Walk Book that I received in the mail is a higher quality paperback than many I have spent actual money on. I want to read this one soon, but it’s going to have to wait for the end of my Austen reread.
kitsch corner
Rearranging my bookshelves has reminded me of many kitsch treasures I possess. For instance: this novelty bowling mug that I use as a pen holder and this fancy little dog, now hanging out together on the contemporary fiction shelf. Her ceramic hat has a little ribbon flower on it. How wonderful is that?
See you next week.
xoxo,
Franny 💋👒
11 months, thanks to various administrative bullshit
i refused to rent them and was too lazy to pirate