Avocado Toast is so prevalent in this lovely generation that you may wonder why I would even put in my two cents. It is an extremely versatile dish, sometimes made of two ingredients (I’ll let you guess which two), and sometimes a kitchen-full. What I have found, though, is that this meal can handle nearly endless amounts of layering, depending on how simple or complex you’re feeling that day. It’s how I’m beginning to think about cooking, too - as an intuitive, creative work that is made much more joyful by just following your tastebuds whenever they may go. And mine went straight for…Read More
A window facing the sunrise. Daffodils (twenty-nine of them from my lover, friend, partner) on my kitchen table in this morning’s light. Last night, it was burgers and cards and strawberry cake, texts and messages and green smoothies. Gifts I can’t begin to express my gratitude for. A duet over the phone from dear friends in Canada, ending on high, “to yoooooouuuu” (delightfully out of tune, you guys). Most importantly, my family, and love and affirmation that I’ve got it made and my final twenty-something year will be the best yet. Cheers to spring and another year round our blessed sun.Read More
There was dust floating in the air. It’s always there, but today it caught the shafts of early light from the window and, suddenly, it wasn’t hidden anymore. Brought finally into light, the bits of lint and debris obscured my vision in that direction. It was early early, and I could think of nothing but the dead weight of grief that sat on me, that shot through me like those blades of light cutting through an invisible, dusty world…Read More
When I was a child, dry weather was my enemy. At the touch of the winter wind, the skin on my hands would inflame and my knuckles would crack like the Salt Flats of Utah, bleeding on my school books. My lips would split when I laughed, and my hair would break when I brushed it. By December, my mother was lathering my hands in solid lanolin nightly, sealing them with gloves to keep in the moisture.
Now that I’m older, things have leveled out a bit. Still, I struggle every year, not with coldness, but with the brittle air that creates static cling and breaks my skin to pieces.
I’m not a complex-beauty-routine kind of person, but I have found a few simple - maybe even obvious - tools that help me manage winter skincare, and I hope you’ll share any insights you have, too.Read More
September, you’re bringing the autumn mists right to my front door. Your light is breaking through the grit of this past year and whispering that some things can be counted on. You carry leaves, withered and spent by summer, down to the ground for a final rest. You’re compassionate in your honesty, reminding us that everything and everyone is born, and everything and everyone dies. Time will always move us forward, and the one guarantee we have is that nothing stays the same. But change comes in many colors, and yours is gold. You spin into the wind an apple-cheeked, golden laughter, and after winter’s freeze and summer’s furnace, your mist is a salve to the hurting.