My colleagues and I are working with Seattle Public Utilities on a food waste study. My team conducted research to learn how people use (and don't use) the food they bring home. Another team will take the insights we made and create a campaign with them. We want to reduce how much food people waste, and encourage them to compost the food that isn't edible. The problems our respondents shared will feel familiar to most readers. People buy too much food, often more than they plan to use. A sale or bulk buy from Costco might load the cart heavier than they expected. The next thing you know, you have a huge bag of onions, or half a pint of heavy cream, or eggs that are close to expiring. Hint: might be time to make a frittata! One of my colleagues suggested a way out of this still-good food going bad in our fridges. People want to know their excess food is going to a good cause. We could start a program that picks up this food and gets it to people who could eat it.

I wasn't excited about the idea based on my own experience in food banking. I didn't think food banks' existing infrastructure could handle an exchange like that. It's a lot of logistics to get food from one place to another in a safe way. I asked instead, "could we promote a neighbor to neighbor approach? something like, 'I have extra tomatoes I can't eat. I'll ask my neighbor if she wants them.'" We could cancel the refrigerated trucks waiting idle nearby. Instead, we'd encourage people to walk down the hall and ask their neighbor if they want it. Easy! Done by lunch. Well. It might be their lunch now.

Is it that simple, though? If I were on the receiving end of a campaign message like that, what would I do? Who would I offer my excess food to? I don't even know most of my neighbors. To many, it seems easier to imagine a complex distribution network for our leftovers than it does to talk to our neighbors. We would rather someone pick up our sad half-bag of spinach than knock on a door near our home and ask if they want it. This bring me back to some of the tension I feel when people talk about community. What does it mean to be a part of one? Are we in community just because we live near each other? Do we need more than that to consider ourselves in kinship with one another?

Are things different for people who don't live in a big city like I do? My parents know all their neighbors (and like most of them). They do things for each other when someone goes out of town. People may come over for a barbecue or a backyard sit. These are things I assume only happens in a small town or a neighborhood of single-family homes. Neither of those cases will be part of my life anytime soon, nor for the many people I share a grid of streets with. So why does it feel so hard to ask a person who shares a wall with me if they want to split a jumbo box of croissants? Some ideas why:

It's hard to know who's interested in our stuff. Lots of folks in society have an aversion to leftovers. Lots of folks, myself included, think dinner is often even better the next day. Connecting these two groups is tough as it is. At the same time, we must reject the expectation that poor folks should take what they can get.

Existing relationships aren't set up like that. There's a huge stigma against appearing poor, much less being poor. For a lot of people, cooking still feels limited to the needs of an immediate household. When people do share food, it's likelier to be at a distance in something like a Little Free Pantry.

The hard times don't feel the same for everyone. Economic segregation within neighborhoods has gotten worse over time. Setbacks in the economy always hit different incomes differently, and this one is no different. Some folks have great incomes, even now. They can afford everything they need. Other folks want to give the impression they’re in that first group. Credit card debt is sky high as people take out loans for takeout. The truly poor have fewer avenues into relationships with the first two groups. This makes it harder for homes with extra to share it with a household who could use it.

talking to our neighbors

I've only known a few of my neighbors in my many years as a renter. Last year, I was reading in the living room in relative silence. It was still enough that I started to hear music wafting down from the apartment above. It was exactly within the tastes I have—some synth, some dance, and the kind of plaintive indie music I love. A part of me wanted to walk upstairs and knock or leave a note, but I never reached out. I didn't want to puncture the illusion of isolation that our homes in the city give us. But the truth is, my decision wasn't without consequence. The person upstairs moved out a month or two later; the worst case scenario was that I lost a potential friend.

Beyond crying together to Sufjan Stevens albums, there are many reasons to get to know your neighbors. They're often closer than an emergency contact and could hold onto a spare key. They're a potential friend that doesn't have to travel across town to hang out. If I were to make a campaign for getting to know your neighbors, this is where I'd start.

Practice vulnerability. A simple smile or "hey how are you?" repeated over months can go a long way. You can adapt the approach to your level of social comfort. You can leave a note instead of knocking on the door, for example. Be willing to accept rejection, too. Not everyone will respond exactly the way we hope they do, but that doesn't mean losing hope.

Break the ice. Be the person who says hello first. Julie Beck and Becca Rashid talked with Pete Davis about his book, How to Talk to People. They make a good point that lots of people want to be the one who others approach. But at least half of us need to do the approaching.

Take your time. I tell the folks I work with that they can't connect with their community only in the moment they need something. It takes a while to build trust and rapport with almost anyone. We also have to start with a genuine desire to connect. Kat Vellos says that we should try to be curious in ways that are true to us without being creepy.

the practice of being in relation

I'm still reflecting on the impulse to seek out services that take away the things we don't want. The thought that there will always be someone who will take what we're tired of can excuse our drive to consume. But we can't remove the friction out of every inconvenience. It's worth taking the time to be part of a neighborhood or community rather than just living in it.

I doubt it's a coincidence that people feel so disconnected from each other. To some extent, many of us have lost the need to be close to the people around us. Society insists we only need help from our closest friends or immediate families, but that isn't true. Communities don't end at our front door. That's where they begin.

A Black police chief does not guarantee safer Black communities. Gennette Cordova calls on Seattle to demand accountability beyond representation.

Back in 2024, Anil Dash published Don't Call it a Substack - an informative post about Substack's problematic history and foundations. This sums it up nicely:

Substack is, just as a reminder, a political project made by extremists with a goal of normalizing a radical, hateful agenda by co-opting well-intentioned creators' work in service of cross-promoting attacks on the vulnerable.

That may sound like an extreme review but the receipts are in the post. It's well noted on Wikipedia too, Substack allows Nazi content "because attempting to censor them would make the problem worse." Great, right? /s

Dash's post points to some alternatives but I will provide you with an updated list for 2026 - Finding a budget-conscious Substack alternative. Not only are these in the list budget-conscious, they aren't looking the other way when it comes to Nazi's (that I know of). TLDR: look at Buttondown and Email Octopus.

I am sure there is a bit of fatigue when it comes to thinking about what is a "Good" platform. Meta is a nightmare company but I still use Instagram. I left Spotify because of unfair artist treatment but I use YouTube Music instead... is Google really a "good" company? I left Twitter when Elon took over and, well, I do feel good about that one. Substack feels like a benign example when compared to the worst offenders but I bring this up just so you are aware. It's worth considering going elsewhere.

This summer in Seattle, the name is Jimothy, the internet-famous North Seattle raccoon whose distinct physique captivated thousands online. Anthropomorphizing wild neighbors is a natural impulse, giving us a way to find kinship and affection in concrete spaces, but looking past our own human projections reveals a creature far more remarkable than any viral storyline.

The raccoon’s common name is an English settler’s mangled attempt at aroughcun, a Powhatan word meaning “one who rubs, washes, and scratches with its hands.”

Their Latin binomial is also telling. The genus designates them as “Pro” (before) “cyon” (dog), intimating that raccoons are indeed carnivores — though genetically more closely related to bears. The second half notes a defining behavior, as lotor literally means “washer,” referencing their habit of manipulating food using dexterous forelimbs.

Behind the viral love for Jimothy are some facts of the challenging lives wild animals face in our cities. Short spine syndrome is an exceptionally rare congenital condition where the vertebrae fail to harden and elongate properly during fetal development, resulting in a compressed, shortened column while limbs grow to normal scale. Genetic mutations, inbreeding in isolated urban micro-populations, or environmental toxins during gestation are considered possible primary factors. Beyond rare skeletal anomalies, urban raccoons face a gauntlet of physical afflictions.

In King County, high-density wildlife populations frequently grapple with infectious outbreaks such as canine distemper and feline panleukopenia, alongside chronic parasitic burdens like Baylisascaris procyonis (raccoon roundworm).

In city settings, physical malformations from improperly healed fractures — often the result of car strikes or falls — are far more common than genetic defects, leaving many urban raccoons navigating their territories with permanent limps, truncated tails, or compromised mobility.

A lot of people think raccoons are pests, which is one reason to highlight their unique traits. Across Seattle neighborhoods, there are countless masked neighbors quietly making a living right alongside us. Their intelligence means that they can get into a lot of things. They’ll happily take the time to figure out a way to open a garbage can and then remember how. Studies have shown that they can remember how to solve a fairly complex lock 3 years after learning the solution. Their intelligence lends to opportunistic behaviors, unlatching backyard chicken coops or peeling back covers on espaliered pear trees. However, despite their irreverence for human rules, raccoons are remarkable, resilient creatures worth our consideration and respect.

Raccoons don’t have very good long-distance vision, relying instead on a suite of other senses. This might explain why one would blunder into the street, presumably not knowing a car was headed its direction. Based on their anatomy, raccoons do see better than people at night because they possess tapetum lucidum, tissues behind their retina contributing to superior light gathering, which many mammals have. Pet owners have likely seen this before in a dog or cat when a beam of light reflects in their eyes at night. Despite this nocturnal augmentation, both a sense of smell and hearing—much more acute than a human’s—top vision in importance to raccoons. However, one sense trumps them all, and that’s touch.

Though raccoons don’t have opposable thumbs on their forepaws like primates, they are only slightly less dexterous. Raccoons have one of the most highly developed senses of touch for a vertebrate, with an inordinate amount of brain power devoted to the tactile. Their habit of “washing” is not related to a desire for clean food, but rather to the fact that they can feel more when wetting their paws, which softens their footpads. Observers routinely see raccoons search about in the water with their paws (they love frogs, fish, clams, and all manner of invertebrates that habituate them to aquatic habitats) and, upon finding something, manipulate it thoroughly much like a blindfolded person would an object handed to them for inspection. This is a primary way they interpret the world—dramatically different from human perception, and a reminder of the fascinating inner lives of urban wildlife.

Raccoons have also proliferated because, in the city, they have few natural predators and have adapted to live alongside people. Their nocturnal habits mean they face fewer threats from humans, and their willingness to persist on leftovers while living in marginal habitats makes them very common. Seeing kits in tow of a mother is sometimes so irresistibly cute that people feel the need to interact or feed them. Many enjoy an encounter with a wild animal, and raccoons present a largely non-threatening opportunity.

Showing genuine care for these creatures means respecting their wild nature: feeding raccoons is strongly discouraged because it leads to conflict with habituated animals; in places where canine distemper is present, raccoons are a noted carrier. Raccoon latrines, where they repeatedly deposit waste, can also harbor roundworm eggs that pose health risks to humans and pets. So, giving raccoons their space, keeping them wild, and admiring them from afar remains the safest approach for both humans and animals.

Ultimately, raccoons like Jimothy and his fellow urban residents are easy to appreciate because they appear a little goofy and aren’t the most physically gifted, yet have found a successful niche and persisted in it, in some ways mirroring our own selves.

Like us, however, they can also clean up nicely and be quite striking up close with a healthy scruff of long gray guard hairs, a ringed tail, and an iconic black mask. They may not always be everyone’s favorite back-alley visitors, but they are extraordinary native neighbors regularly encountered across Seattle—and for that, our city’s urban ecosystem is all the richer.

In dense urban environments like Capitol Hill, raccoon populations reach extraordinary concentrations compared to their rural counterparts. While wild forests typically support just a few per square mile, resource-rich city neighborhoods can host 100 to 200 raccoons per square mile, with localized “hot spots” surging to 300 or more per square mile. By those numbers and factoring in more challenging industrial and commercial cores, Seattle’s raccoon population could be anywhere from 6,000 to 8,000 little masked bandits.

In cities like Seattle, this hyper-density is driven by an artificial carrying capacity: sprawling residential neighborhoods interspersed with forested ravines, public parks, and greenbelts provide abundant shelter, while unlocked compost bins, outdoor pet food, and a near-total absence of apex predators create an endless food supply. As a result, urban raccoons compress their home ranges down to a fraction of a typical wild territory, thriving in tight-knit micro-communities right under our noses.

This Pike/Pines is based on an essay by Brendan McGarry that originally appeared on CHS in October 2015

“‘Today is August 4, 2026,’ said a second voice from the kitchen ceiling, ‘in the city of Allendale, California.'”

via @aaronmeyers #

chekhovs-raygun:

kingantlion:

smallest-feeblest-boggart:

ego-ann-16:

phantoms-lair:

ankaa-avarshina:

lorem64:

ankaa-avarshina:

lorem64:

I’m so confused why he would think cookie dough would give him salmonella??? What parent told him this. There’s no chicken in there!

Two words: Raw eggs.

?? What kind of world do you live in where Raw eggs carry salmonella or are in anyway unsafe

Don’t ask me, ask them Americans. I’m an Asian just passing the word on

*deep breath* Though the risk is small, raw eggs can carry samonella.

MORE THREATENINGLY Raw wheat can carry E. Coli. However, if you don’t mind making your own cookie dough, you can easily make it safely.

Take your standard recipe. Omit the eggs. Eggs serve as a binding agent to hold the cookie together. Since we’re eating the dough raw, that’s not needed. Take the flour, put it in a pan and bake it at 350 for 7 minutes. Any E. Coli is now dead.

Just mix the rest of the ingredients together as the recipe is called for and BAM, perfectly safe edible cookie dough.

Thank u so fucking much for this wisdom

wait you’re telling my i can get E, Coli just FROM EATING FLOUR straight from the bag???

Why..why are you eating flour straight from the bag?

e. coli generally transfers to food from rodents, bugs, and dirt. flour is processed from grain in facilities that have all those things in em, and isn’t heat treated before it gets to you. there’s a certain amount of cleaning the process machines that *should* be happening, but you the consumer can’t track if your particular bag came from a facility that got inspected lately, and even if it did, a rat might have run over the bagging machine right afterwards anyway.

so yeah all flour has some amount of poop germs in it. don’t eat it raw.