If you know me well, you probably know that if you call, text, message, or email me, it may be days (or, I’m embarrassed to say, sometimes weeks) until I respond. It’s not for lack of thought. I replay the correspondence in my head a million times and search for the perfect response. In fact, I respond so many times in my head, I think I’ve actually responded. It’s a problem. Read more
I have an announcement of sorts, and I’m burying it in a post about chicken salad. Lucy’s Chicken Salad. I’ve been keeping this bit of information to myself for awhile, which is rare for an over-sharer like me. I’ve been starring at the blinking curser, picking at and playing with my hair like I do when I’m thinking but can’t verbally formulate my thoughts. This announcement–it’s really not that hard to say or even that crazy. I’m just not comfortable with it yet. Just like I wasn’t comfortable calling Kevin my fiancé for months after getting engaged. And the same reason I still have a hard time calling myself a mom. Those are grown-up words. And most days, I swear I’m still in high school. Read more
There’s a point at which we become adults. I can’t pinpoint when exactly it happens, but inevitably, it does. We pack away the toys, paint our rooms neutral, turn off the cartoons, and start tuning into the news. We trade school days for work days, doodle-laden notebooks for to-do lists, and long summer breaks for “long” weekends. Though we may be more buttoned up compared to our younger selves, one thing is true—adults need popsicles too. Read more
I’m gonna miss summer dishes that come together in the time it takes water to boil and pasta to cook. Dishes that only involve a couple chops and stirs. Dishes that are best when left uncomplicated, like this one. I’m not even sure what to call it. Quick Summer Pasta will do. It’s served us well this summer, again and again and again. It’s almost too simple to post. Then again, that’s the beauty of it. (Speaking of beauty, read on for a chance to win a set of two pictured handmade linen dinner napkins from StitchNY.) Read more
It’s a given. Moves never go as planned. You can count on it. Many moves later, and I still haven’t learned my lesson. Here we are, sitting in our new-to-us empty apartment two weeks post move, and I feel compelled to write this post on my slower than molasses, 7 year old, barely breathing laptop. If not for you, for me. Though, I’m never doing another major move again. Our belongings were scheduled to arrive Saturday at the very latest. It’s Monday, and now they’re telling us the truck will, knock on wood, arrive Thursday. Thankfully, the Twin Cities house the nicest people, and a few new friends lent us some goods to get by. Sure, we could go out and buy a couple things in the interim, but since we just purged, acquiring more stuff makes my insides ill. If we could turn back time, we would have mailed ourselves a kitchen care package as we had planned (per the recommendation of a friend). And here’s what we would have packed.
Some weeks when your baby is teething and you should be packing for a big move or finishing 800 deadlines since you’ll be without your computer for awhile and you’re feeling a little blue because of the aforementioned, you need big fat sugar cookies (and a good run-on sentence). These are the kind that’ll make you happy, leave you regretful, and eventually convince you to come back for another. You know the kind. And sometimes those kind are just as necessary as the healthy nourishing kind. Read more
