House Call!

Marguerite De Gas, the Artist's Sister by Edgar Degas I watched The Other Bennet Sister last week. I loved it, so much so I watched it twice. Pride and Prejudice is my favorite comfort watch, and my daughter’s name was inspired by the family. Like most P&P fanatics, I had always fancied myself a Lizzie. Hard-nosed, staunchly proud of my independence, and secretly hoping a Mr. Darcy would crash into my world and lift me out of a life of quiet striving. Sigh.

Hello from the heart of high summer. July flew by in a fury of summer camps, family weekends, and extreme heat from start to finish. Today’s bonus post includes a buffet of all the good things from the past month. Think of it as a chance to catch up on an article you may have missed or give a post you loved a second read. I hope you enjoy. House Call With Kate Arends is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

Hi— Before we get into it, let’s talk about the new AI detector on Substack. It’s personal for OG bloggers. As a writer on this platform, I am both pleased and pissed. Pleased there is an effort to hone in on slop, and pissed about the witch hunts and purity mobs rallying around a far-from-perfect detector. The irony that content produced before 2020 has been inaccurately flagged by AI detectors has not been lost on me.

It’s easy to think a “good” room needs to be seamless. That harmony means everything aligns, everything matches. But often, it’s the small oddities that make a space memorable. At first glance, the built-in cabinets in my office might look simple. But if you lean in closer, you’ll notice it. The knobs are oddly placed. They’re too big for the cabinets. They’re staggered slightly, as if someone started the installation after a glass of wine.

Still Life with Geranium by Henri Matisse I was peeling carrots when a flurry of feathers dropped out of the sky. A young hawk, grounded in the middle of our yard. Any birder will tell you a hawk doesn’t sit still longer than it takes to snatch a field mouse. It spread its wings out wide and went completely still. I willed myself not to grab my phone or holler for Joe and the kids.

The goal isn’t to wipe the slate clean. It’s to meet the house halfway. To make choices that respect what’s good, reframe what’s hard, and create something that feels layered rather than forced. When we first walked into the basement, I couldn’t help but laugh.

Join me in issuing a hearty farewell to June, a month that was filled with somatic practices, finding delight in the little things, and one soul-restoring trip out east. Today’s bonus post includes a buffet of all the good things from the month of June. Think of it as a chance to catch up on an article you may have missed or give a post you loved a second read. House Call With Kate Arends is a reader-supported publication.

The Bathers by Paul Cezanne I keep waiting for summer to start, which doesn’t make sense given the sock tan I’ve developed. My feet have never looked more Victorian. Signs of the season are all accounted for: popsicles, ball sports, play dates, sparklers, hydrangeas. A bucket list trip to Martha’s Vineyard! A generous five days without kids in the house, thanks to my in-laws, felt electric in its spaciousness. I can't put my finger on what's keeping me waiting.

Our homes are in conversation with the rest of our lives. Sometimes they say not yet, or I don't know, and that feels like failure. But it's not. It's a way of arriving at a truth we can't always see until it shows up in something physical. Stephanie Sundberg for Maria Stanley Most of us live in half-finished homes. We walk our friends through them, rattling off a list of what we plan to do. But most of us know that finish lines tend to move.

At the end of 2025, we committed to donating 5% of House Call’s net monthly proceeds to organizations that help people find safety and stability. The donation for May was given to Solid Ground. My kids have started finding me embarrassing. I think it’s the small talk. The way I’ll ask the people behind us in line where they’re from, or tell a stranger I like their shoes. They’re not wrong to cringe. But I’ve started to think small talk is my way of staying in a room before it gets interesting.