The best things I've bought lately
“Don’t buy very much. What you do buy? Make sure you enjoy very much.”
Okay, I too thought it was weird when the inspiration for this post popped into my head. I’ve long tended toward minimalism and have recently gone full “hyperconsumption is one of the modern world’s biggest problems” mode. Why would I want to detail things I’ve bought?
The urge started last spring. I pushed myself to write about more than “just” dogs, and one of my first essays under this mindset was about how few physical belongings we have in the van. I mean, the piece was admittedly a little all over the place, but I centered it around the idea of maximizing your memories per dollar. It ended with a list of the best things we’ve bought lately, going all the way back to Hermes the van himself.
I was not thinking about that old post when I was walking with Scout and Sean this evening. As I twirled in my new flannel (with which I am obsessed), hey! I should list my favorite recent purchases! dinged in the back of my brain. Turns out it just took me nine months to circle back to the idea.
And I still like this idea, counterintuitive though it first feels, because reflecting on what I’ve bought lately helps me realize both 1) how little I’ve bought lately and 2) how much I enjoy what I’ve bought lately. I’m coming to think that could make a pretty good consumeristic-world motto: “Don’t buy very much. What you do buy? Make sure you enjoy very much.”
Plus my loose initial vision for this list didn’t only include physical objects. Focusing on how many of our purchases are intangible (like nights in a campground or museum admission fees) helps me remember materials aren’t where it’s all at. (I have many, many physical items—clothes, books, artwork—I love. But the diminishing returns are criminal.)
So all those lines of thinking deliver us here: A new episode of the best things I’ve bought lately! Maybe this will become a sort of series. Maybe at some point I’ll try to detail every thing I’ve bought over a period of time, for a sort of accountability and because I think that’s interesting data in our modern world. For now? Read about my new favorite shirt and some perfect Indian food.
Nine nights at a campground in the Florida Keys. Booking Bahia Honda State Park is no easy feat. Last year we snagged a cancellation in the campground loop that’s not on the ocean, and we made it our mission to come back to one of the sites along the Atlantic. We both logged onto the park website fifteen minutes before the next dates became available, held our breath, refreshed—and managed to snag two multi-day reservations! March 2024 to February 2025 was the longest we’ve planned any lodging ahead of time since moving into our van (and at $50 a night, it was also some of the most expensive). But it was so worth it: the turquoise water, the space for Scout to sunbathe, the creatures, the stars. On our final night we took colored pencils to the iconic old bridge and attempted to sketch the sunset on reused poster board. It’s one of my new favorite memories.
A $15 colorful flannel. While waiting to meet up with his brother, Sean and I wandered a few stores on Lincoln Road in Miami Beach. “I would wear the shit out of this!” I said when I first saw the patterned shirt on the sales rack. My other trusty flannel is from my freshman year in college (also a men’s… I have a type) and the only thing I don’t love about it is how boring the black-and-white pattern feels. When I realized this colorful version was 50 percent off the already reduced price? I squealed. And yes—I have already worn the shit out of it, three days in a row. (But don’t worry! The decade-old “boring” flannel will still be in rotation. If you pair it with a colorful t-shirt, it’s not so dull after all.)
Various mojitos and plates of ropa vieja—grandma’s style—in Miami. These consumables were not only delicious but also enabled us to connect with my brother-in-law and his girlfriend. We met up with them for a long weekend and had a blast exploring the city, sharing every entrée, and even pretending we can dance. Sort of.
Palak paneer from our favorite Indian restaurant. Sean and I used to order takeout from this place near our old house as a special treat. We’d eat it in the living room, Scout on the floor nearby, while watching The Wire or Psych. After being away from the Space Coast—the place that still, despite itself, feels a bit like home—for a month, we returned north on a rainy day. The familiar curry anchored me in a way that would have felt dramatic if I didn’t fully buy into the emotional power of good food.