I only cried once last month

february 2025: dogs, design, and distractions

I’ve been sleeping poorly in the past few nights, tossing and turning, waking up frequently, having bad dreams. A few nights ago, I stood upside down at 4am to relieve my nasal congestion. It surprisingly worked. For something that I spend roughly a quarter of my day doing, I can’t afford to lose quality. I need good sleep.

But if I start to analyze why I’m getting bad sleep, the list is endless: the fluffiness of my pillow, the unsettling news I received before sleeping, the last sentence I read before I closed my eyes, the firmness of my mattress, and so on. It takes work to diagnose the reason why something so innocuous becomes so troublesome.

But this morning, I woke up to the sound of birds outside my window and bright sunshine on the lids of my eyes. It was a warm surprise, and although I had less than 5 hours of battery in the tank, that awakening moment recharged me further. I guess there’s something to be said about the act of waking as more of an indication of rest, compared to the number of hours of sleep as an objective metric.

Anywho… this February edition of loaf of thought includes:

• a recent experience with a foster dog that made me cry

• a story that explains why comparison might be the thief of joy

• a story about what I bought my mom for her birthday

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i’m feeling lucky

We’re slowing it down this month — focusing on silky snares, lazy melodies, and swimming bass lines. If you like Hiatus Kaiyote, BadBadNotGood, or FKJ, I think you’ll really like this set of 40 songs. Let me know what you think!

[Archive playlist can be found here, and in my spotify bio]

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bean

Anya and I have a 5-star rating on Rover, an app made for petsitting, where owners can leave their pup with us for a nightly rate. We’ve been doing this since May last year, and pocketed $2k in 7 months — just enough to cover utilities for the winter or maybe a small weekend getaway. It’s not really about the money though; it’s more about our shared love for dogs and the seemingly little work it takes to care for a dog for a short while.

We also recently signed up to be a foster home for Cocker Spaniel Rescue of Austin, an organization that desperately needed volunteer help. We signed up and joined the chaotic Facebook group, where old white ladies constantly posted photos of Cocker Spaniels in need of fostering. The foster organization pays for all the dogs’ needs, from vet visits to grooming appointments to food and toys — all we devote is our time and love. Easy enough.

So one evening, as winter forecasts boasted 3 inches of snow overnight and icy roads by midnight, we got a text from the group admin:

Hi Rish — I'm sending out an SOS for a foster that has injured herself and needs her foster dog moved ASAP. Let me know if you can help. Even if you can hold him through the winter storms he can go to boarding if he's too much!

Anya’s heart melts easily when it comes to canines, mine less so. It took months of convincing to get me onboard as a foster, let alone say yes to the first request. But as I learned more about the situation, I couldn’t say no. We knew very little about the pup — Name: Bean, Age: 5 years, Temperment: very active, clingy, and spent the first 5 years of his life in a crate. Cherry on top: his foster mom is an elderly woman who has broken her hip.

We had to rescue him.

We drove about 40 mins through the icy rain to a small cottage-like house where Lee, unable to move without a walker, greeted us behind a pet gate and the stinky welcome of 5 dogs. Yes, 5 dogs. Her house was a messy hoarder’s delight; books and trinkets in every corner, cartons and boxes lining the hallways. dog fur, food, and treats all over the place. Hesitant to make ourselves comfortable, we helped to gather all of Bean’s stuff, and quickly took note of Bean’s care schedule: one morning walk at 6am and two more later in the day, with a diaper strapped on at all times, two medicines mouth-fed twice a day, and crate sleeping at night. In the few moments that I was able to catch a break from my dust-induced sneezing, I had brief telepathic conversations with Anya.

Should we really do this? Why did we sign up for this? What did we get ourselves into?

Bean barked for the entire ride home, although his voice box had been removed, so it sounded more like a painful plea for love and attention, filtered like the mute on a trumpet. He went silent as soon as I put him in the shower though, thoroughly enjoying the warm water and reprieve from the dust and dirt stuck in his hair. He was skinny, underfed for sure.

He was anxious at first, jumped on all the beds, explored the house, and itched himself on all sides of the couch. His hair was everywhere before we knew it. He responded to nothing, barely even his own name. Bean was a baby stuck in a 5-year-old body, with an overwhelming sorrow in his eyes. And we fell in love with him overnight, literally, as he snored like a 56-year old overweight man.

He woke us up at 6am, promptly for his morning poop, in 15° weather. He was a lot, for sure. He was needy and clingy, not wanting to leave my side for even a second. His winter coat shed easily, and my white rug looked considerably darker by the end of the first day. I had to spend more time to look after him or care for him than I could focus on work or house chores. As much as we realized that he wasn’t sustainable to keep around, my love for him only grew.

Bean was scheduled to leave for the Boarding Facility in less than 48 hours after we picked him up. And as that time dwindled, I had cold feet about letting him go. I felt like he was finally given a chance to succeed as a well-mannered and obedient dog, in a home with all the attention and none of the anxiety. He responded well to corrective signals and grew comfortable in his own spot on the couch. Going back to a boarding facility, where he would spend most of his time in a crate and compete for attention with other dogs, would be a significant setback in his growth. But he had to go.

Maybe it was the fragility of my mental health in that specific week or just the look he gave me, but I found myself in tears as I put his stuff in my car. I made a pros-and-cons list to sit better with my decision, but it didn’t help. Just before we left, I squished Bean’s ears and looked him in the eyes and asked “You’ll be okay, right? tell me you’ll be okay.” And he tilted his head to the side and licked my hand, as a sloppy approval of his love for us.

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In all honesty, I wanted to write more about America’s intangible and inexplicable obsession we have with dogs, and how maybe we shouldn’t give them the same care, love, and effort as we do with humans. But my conclusive thoughts just didn’t land there — a conversation for another time, maybe.

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comparison is the thief of… design?

For our January date night, Anya and I went to the Tribeza Interiors Tour of Austin. It’s a self-paced, self-guided tour showcasing 10 of the most beautifully designed homes in Austin. It’s my third year attending, and I’ve come to appreciate the diversity in design, taste, and lifestyle that each home offers.

We took our time perusing the intricate wallpapers, rare tiled floors, and even some carpeted ceilings in these homes. Some are tastefully done while others are just egregious. One particular home was a literal art gallery, as it was owned by a man who also owned a local art gallery. His home featured pieces from Banksy, Yoshitomo Nara, Jeff Koons, and the likes. I wouldn’t say it was too much of interior design as much as it was a collection of wealth.

Many of these homes had clear symbols of wealth and status. Sometimes it was the Lucid Air Touring that sat in the driveway or maybe the just the high-end aura that some houses exuded, with imported marble, 1-of-1 art pieces and custom furniture. It was an interior design tour — I get it, that’s the point. But one house stood out. This particular home was beautifully designed with a family in mind. Portraits hung all over the house, from maternity shoots to playful memories in the backyard. The kids were blessed with parents who had done well for themselves, as per the proof of the expensive liquors at the bar and the handmade knobs on each cabinet door. In the office, we found a teak armoire, adorned with 2 Emmy awards and 2 Webby awards. Ofcourse, the awards had names, and it didn’t take much for us to start snooping.

A quick Google search yielded a depth of information: she went to this school, and then worked at this place, and then got promoted to this role, and then then boom, Chief Executive at this company. So easy — almost too easy.

The Emmy award was just the key to a mind lost in comparitive convolution; but the house itself stood as a platform of judgement, as it stared back at us with upper echelon indifference. The walk-in closets full of high-fashion brands, and the liquor bought with dinner parties in mind — these were symbols of a status that was just out of reach. But where there’s a Linkedin search, there’s a way.

Anya and I commented on this comparative mindset, as a frame of reference for what might go on a yearly mood board. As a mode of inspiration, to walk through these decorated homes and idolize their wealth and high-end taste as goals for what lies in our future. Why not use it as fuel to work harder, to earn more, to keep grinding? It makes sense — these are quite literally the lives we yearn for.

But there was another voice in me, one that was mildly disguted by how quickly and easily this comparison took shape. I don’t always want to be able to Google someone and find them on Linkedin and plot their journey to success. As much as it is addicting and inspiring, it’s also tolling. In the moment, it’s a dopamine hit - it shows me who they are and how they made it, and mirrors back on who I am and how I haven’t made it.

Comparison might be the thief of joy, but the internet is definitely the catalyst for comparison.

Don’t get me wrong, I love this tour, and I’ll definitely go again next year. But maybe I’ll leave my phone at home.

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knives out

I’m not good at gift-giving. My gifts are either terribly late or just not well-thought-out. I would say it’s because I’m not a materialistic person; I don’t expect material things on my birthday, and I’m extremely frugal when it comes to material spending. So to flex that muscle for someone else takes immense effort and thought, which is ofcourse worth it for all my loved ones, but I still need to work on it.

My mom’s birthday was the first test of the year, where I had the opportunity to make a conscious change to this habit. With her birthday coinciding with MLK Jr. Day and the infamous Inauguration Day, I started my prep almost on the first day of the year.

I bought 4 different kitchen knives, with the idea that I’ll test them for quality, comfort, and ease of use, and finally make a selection before gifting it to her. I learned a lot about knife construction in the process; about the ice hardening process and the full tang forged steel. Some were built in Germany, others were from Japan. But I wasn’t a fan of these 4. So I ordered 2 more, now dropping over $500 on kitchen knives. But it was worth it — the last one I ordered, this Kyoku 7” Santoku Chef Knife, was the winner. And my mom loved it.

This whole gift-giving thing got me reminiscing all the gift guides I ‘marked as read’ in my inbox in November/December of last year. I intentionally ignored dozens of expensive lists of kitchenware and scarves because I didn’t value what these people recommended. But as someone who prides themself on taste and recommendation, I thought it would be a good exercise to make a gift guide by the end of the year. A list of things that I might not even buy for myself, but maybe things that would make your life better or more beautiful. Stay tuned for that, it might come sooner than holiday season.

Now please excuse me while I process Amazon returns for the 5 chef knives that didn’t make the cut. Pun intended.

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link dump

cinematography 101: beautiful video essay on where to put the camera

in a world obsessed with status, beware of the inner ring fallacy

an index of work from the creator of the languages in Dune and House of the Dragon

a unique inside look at one of the busiest bars in LA

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As hard as January was, I enjoyed these little moments and side quests along the way. And it’s been a while since I enjoyed a month. So there’s that.

But I know there’s a lot going on in the world right now, and it’s tiring to constantly read shocking headlines and go about your day as if normal. So please make sure to check-in on your friends and family — even if it’s a simple one-liner text, just let em know you care. It’ll make the news feel like just another thing.

That’s all I’m trying to do with this letter, anyways. Just take your mind off the atrocities on TV or in your twitter feed, reprieve your inbox with a tender story or maybe a hot take. I hope you enjoyed this one, and if you did, please let me know! Hit the little heart button, share it with a friend, or leave me a comment — let’s have a conversation about dogs or knives or interior design.

have a lovely february, folks.

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did you read my last post?

things Americans still can't do, even though Trump is president