Winter Citrus Salad | @thefauxmartha

We’re spontaneous people in theory. But in actuality, we’re just negligent planners. Adding something to the calendar more than two weeks out gives me a little anxiety. And planning a trip that involves doing things besides heading to the lake or the beach is out of the question. When we go out to dinner or coffee, we go to the same spots. It pains me to spend money on things I might not enjoy, and Kev has this knack of attaching monetary values to everything from parking to a glass of wine. What I’m trying to tell you is that we have issues. Someone plan a trip to Europe and take us? Read more

No-Bake Peanut Butter Granola Bars | @thefauxmartha

I started off 2016 with Hallie, my 2 year old, on my back. We dug out the baby carrier (the one she hated as a baby), put on our winter gear, and went out for a hike along the Mississippi. It was a warm winter day. Sunny but crisp, and cold enough to keep the fresh fallen snow fluffy. Hallie had been her typical twonager self that morning—grumping around about this and that. I’m sure I didn’t sound all that different. We were trudging through life. In that moment, I made a promise to myself. We would thrive this year.  Read more

Sunshine Smoothie | @thefauxmartha

I’m Buddy the Elf when it comes to winter. I still shriek sounds of joy at the first snowfall (and every snowfall thereafter). Breathing in the crisp, cold air makes my lungs feel alive. And hikes along the snow-covered banks of the Mississippi etch permanent smile lines into my face. But sometimes, even a good streak of grey days can leave me feeling blue (and leave Hallie feeling like a caged animal).  Read more

Peanut Butter Balls | @thefauxmartha

“Email is a wonderful thing for people whose role in life is to be on top of things. But not for me; my role is to be on the bottom of things. What I do takes long hours of studying and uninterruptible concentration.” —Donald Knuth, a computer scientist

I added that quote to my email signature after Kev shared it with me. He knows my struggles. As of right now, the number 8855 is barely legible, set in white text on a red background, and hovering to the right of my email application. I’m a minimalist in most areas of life except my inbox. It’s a complete disaster. It gives me hives when I think about it, so I don’t. I have trouble pressing delete and unsubscribing from reoccurring emails. I mark every email as unread. And replies take at least a couple days for me to formulate my thoughts and sentiments. I live a paralyzed life when it comes to email. Read more

Minimalism and Vegetarian Tacos | @thefauxmartha

They called me quirky growing up. Repeatedly. I just assumed they meant to say funny. Miss Sharp, my first grade teacher, reserved the last 10 minutes of class for me to do stand up. Everyday. I thought I was funny, but now I know she was probably just tired of standing up. I’ve never been good at delivering punch lines, and I can’t imagine I was any better at age 6. They meant what they said. Read more

Brussels Sprouts Roasted in a Peanut Harissa Sauce | @thefauxmartha

I’m not good at good-bye. Neither is Hal. She avoids it about as well as she avoids nap-time. Twenty minutes after our guests leave, she rhythmically ask where they are. Somehow she’s forgotten the awkward, prolonged good-bye or lack thereof. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I understand that phrase better now that we have an apple tree in our backyard. The poor kid never had a chance. Read more

Vegetarian Chipotle Bowls | @thefauxmartha

Come the weekend, we’re communal food people. I’ve talked about this same topic over these fajitas and this podcast recently. I like food speckled across the table as the centerpiece, mostly because it seems fitting. The table is our meeting place, our sustenance. I like the way passing bowls full of food gently nudges the start of a conversation. Can you pass the rice? And the beans? 
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Creamy Kalette Baked Pilaf | @thefauxmartha

Growing up in Texas, we learned about fall, winter, and spring from textbooks and encyclopedias. A feed full of changing leaves on Instagram wasn’t a thing then, and connecting to the internet was about like dialing the man on the moon. I always thought the spelling of seasons was a mistake. It’s season. My pen pals from other countries thought we traveled by horse. Come to find out, we lived in the same country and it wasn’t called Texas. I now joke that Texans have a hard time believing in climate change because the climate never changes. I’m kidding. Kinda. Read more