I fell into a bit of an impromptu travel season this month – three back-to-back trips with a weekend between. Just enough time to empty the suitcase into the laundry cycle, to re-roll and re-pack once it was refreshed. — I know two things: (1) I love this job. (2) I love this family. I
It is possible, and it is essential. Listen: we are doing ourselves no favors when we treat our news cycle as a Pez dispenser — when we pop onto our feed(s) and ingest, ingest, ingest another article/think piece/RT until we’re fat and depressed, full and sick. I will make absolutely no apologies for the increasingly
I grew up as far away from the kitchen as possible, knowing full well there was likely to be a mother stirring a skillet of Tuna Helper in need of someone to set the table (kids are the worst, man). And so, without a solid memory bank of practice, my food knowledge and stovetop creativity
This summer wasn’t a summer of reading for me. It was a summer of shooing away a toddler from outlets, of teaching a 5-year-old the differences between a redwood and a willow. It was an outside summer, a keep-em-busy summer, a run-em-wild summer, and on most nights, we all fell into bed with dirty feet
I am forever wondering if our quest for self-exploration has become burdensome, backwards. Enneagrams, Myers-Briggs – the idea of whittling down our complex personalities to a number and a few letters. Are we placing boundaries where they weren’t intended; living within confines that needn’t be there? While I love nothing better than a tidy definition
I’ve been thinking about abundance, and generosity, and about our modernized skewing of both. About how often our culture preaches self control, self examination, self care – misguided attempts at mastering the art of simple living. (Guilty.) Mostly, I’ve been thinking about 4-lane highways. — Have you ever been to Ojai? It’s been called the
You know me; I’m not a shop-for-sport gal. It takes only a few, simple items to get the job done – whether “the job” is slicing onions or commuting to work. In the grand scheme of things, it’s my hope that the objects I rely on will tell a story – one of experience over
“[F]or just one second, look at your life and see how perfect it is. Stop looking for the next secret door that is going to lead you to your real life. Stop waiting. This is it: there’s nothing else. It’s here, and you’d better decide to enjoy it or you’re going to be miserable wherever
