Consider this:

Hello, Gorgeous

A few months back, I was sitting in the sunshine on a bench in my local town square, noodling back and forth about a project idea with one of my favorite partners in creativity. The project involved, among other things, writing, photography and video. At one point, as part of a “readability” test, I pulled out a black Sharpie and wrote three words in all caps on the back of my business card:

YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL

We took a test photo and discovered the letters I’d written were too small to read. Realizing we had some logistical problems to solve before we got our creativity on, I tossed the card into my bag and forgot about it.

A couple weeks later, I was rummaging through my bag in search of lip gloss when I pulled out the card again. The words YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL caught my eye, and I smiled. Not a broad, toothy smile, mind you. My smile was an almost imperceptible upturn at the corners of my mouth. But somehow, this tiny facial shift produced a tangible surge of my spirits, an actual elevation of my soul. Since a smile is a smile no matter how small, instead of throwing away my business card, I propped it against the base of my computer screen and let it sit.

Now the words YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL greet me in the morning when I sit down to work. On most days, I head to my office straight from a trail hike with the dog. My hiking attire consists of my favorite Army-green cargo pants, now threadbare and frayed at the cuffs, a paint-splattered sweatshirt that smells of beef liver dog treats and a worn baseball cap that hides my often-unwashed ponytail. I look like a homeless dog walker. It’s not pretty, and it’s definitely not beautiful.

And yet: a perfectly ordinary 2×3-inch piece of white cardstock whispers YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL. I listen, and ever so slightly – and completely illogically – my mood ascends.

This reaction is illogical for a number of reasons. First, see homeless dog walker, above. Second, I am fully aware that I wrote these three words myself, but I certainly didn’t write them about myself. Rather, I chose them randomly and spontaneously, exploring a seed of an idea for an interactive art project. YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL was simply a “place holder” compliment for more thoughtful, personalized appreciations of other people in the future.

Third, if I were in the market for a compliment, YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL probably wouldn’t be my first choice. Instead, I might want to be lauded for being “honest,” “thoughtful,” or “generous.” I might even prefer purely pragmatic praise like “You manage to put hot food on the dinner table on a pretty regular basis” or “You didn’t use profanity when yelling at your kids to get off the screen” or even “You’re remarkably unconcerned about being seen in public wearing rags.”

Logic aside, I remain keenly aware of the subtle yet noticeable boost I get from my predictable, daily, recurring compliment. There are myriad reasons that it’s silly, if not inane, for these five syllables to brighten my day. But they do. In fact, this sweet, positive, warm, affirming statement helps improve my outlook when I’m struggling to write, create, parent or otherwise get through a long day.

The least I can do is share the gift of a complimentary compliment. Today, and every day, please remember

You are wise.

You are kind.

You are creative.

You are needed.

You are loved.

You are powerful.

And, yes, you are beautiful.

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Cook this: 

Erika’s Obsessively Good Green Beans

My pal Erika is an outstanding cook, so when she says these green beans are worth obsessing over, I believe it. I can’t wait to try this recipe, which sounds like a perfect dish to serve on Thanksgiving, should you already be thinking about that November meal …

Erika is also an outstanding architect based in Mill Valley, CA. She’s the proud cofounder of inside + ARCHITECT. You can find out more about Erika and her equally talented business partner and drool over photos of some of their latest designs here.

But first, drool over this!

Green Beans

3 garlic cloves, smashed

½ cup/120 ml extra-virgin olive oil

2 Tbs seasoned rice wine vinegar or champagne vinegar

2 Tbs tahini

1 Tbs sesame seeds

1 tsp red pepper flakes

1 lb/455 g green beans, trimmed

Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees Fahrenheit and set your oven rack to the top posi­tion. Line a rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper.

In a small bowl, stir together the garlic, oil, vinegar, tahini, sesame seeds and red pepper flakes. Add the green beans and toss until evenly coated. Season with salt and black pepper. Spread the beans in a single layer on the prepared baking sheet and roast, tossing occasionally, until tender and lightly browned, about 20 minutes. Serve immediately.

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Read this:

Season of the Witch by David Talbot

Here’s a review from Effin Older, a writer, editor, photographer and grandmother living in San Francisco (you can check out her website here). Effin is also a mother – mine, of course. After reading this glowing review, I can’t wait to get my hands on my mom’s new top pick.

If you want to read the longest love letter ever written, pick up David Talbot’s Season of the Witch. Except for two chapters about the 49ers – sorry, I don’t do football – I read every word of the 406-page saga of a turbulent San Francisco from the early 1960s to the mid-1980s.

It’s all there, the best and the worst: sex, drugs, music, corruption, murder, politics, kidnapping, assault, AIDS. Think Janis Joplin, The Grateful Dead, Bill Graham, Patty Hearst, Jim Jones, Harvey Milk, Mayor Moscone. Some of the people who made headlines in the 60s still make headlines today: Mayor Ed Lee, Senator Diane Feinstein, Willy Brown.

Talbot is an exhaustive researcher and a grab-you-by-collar storyteller who loves his adopted city by the Bay. He’s not afraid to expose its dark underbelly as well as celebrate its boundless creativity and open-mindedness. He describes San Francisco during these years as a city at war with itself, but also a city able to pull itself out of the mire and “become a beacon of enlightenment and experimentation for the entire world.”

Like Talbot, I also love my adopted city. Living in New York City and New Zealand during The Season of the Witch meant I never rubbed shoulders with any of the characters who filled the streets, theaters, bars, back alleys and political offices during these explosive times. I did see Janis in concert at the Fillmore East in New York. Does that count?

I think it’s good enough.