When life gets full, this still matters

Welcome friends and newcomers. You are welcome here.

Adam Mastroianni wrote recently about what he calls The Too Busy to Care Test. He tells a story from college, when his schedule was so full it looked like a solid red block on Google Calendar. He had one free night to see a friend’s play—and he didn’t go. Not because he forgot. Just because he couldn’t summon the energy. I’ve felt that way, too. Maybe you have.

But here’s what I’ve been thinking lately: food is one of the gentlest ways to pass the test.

We still have to eat. So we can eat together. We can drop off a meal. We can text someone and say, “We made extra—want some?” It doesn’t have to be fancy.

This came up recently with a client I work with. She was wondering how to keep writing about food when the world feels so heavy. We talked about that tension—how saying nothing can feel like fiddling while Rome burns, but also how food blogs give people a break from the constant stream of hard news. I told her what I try to remind myself: I can’t fix the big things. But I can bake cookies for a friend. I can open my home. I can drop off dinner to someone recovering from surgery. These small acts still count. They still heal. They still say, “I see you. You matter.”

Last night, I talked to someone who said she admired how I keep showing up to our group meetups, even when many of the group members cancel. I told her it does take effort, but it’s always worth it.

Because when you work from home, juggle a million things, and do most of your connecting through screens, it’s easy to feel like you’re in touch with people but still be lonely. And those impromptu catch-ups, the “want to grab a coffee?” moments, don’t seem to happen like they used to.

But when you make space—for a phone call, for a coffee, for dropping off a meal—it matters. I’ve been the one on the receiving end of that kind of care. When our son was in the hospital, a friend drove an hour to deliver Friday night pizza. She brought it in a box covered with drawings and messages from everyone back home. It was just pizza. But it was also everything.

That’s the spirit behind Friday’s Pizza. A reminder that food is a way of making space—for care, for joy, for each other. Even when life is full. Especially then.

Thanks for choosing to be here.