because you are

When I was single, Valentine’s Day was depressing. This was pre-Galentine’s, so there was no celebrating sisterhood with my lady friends over waffles and mimosas.

In all my relationships before I met my husband, Valentine’s Day was stressful. (He only got me this little box of chocolates? There’s no card? Is this the beginning of the end? Should I break up with him or give him this masterpiece of a handmade, vintage-inspired sweater that took me 80 hours to knit?)

All the years I worked in the restaurant industry, Valentine’s Day was a shit show of trying to cram three hectic turns and a “special” menu into one (hopefully profitable) evening. High romance it was not. 

To this day, Beau and I don’t really celebrate Valentine's. No champagne. No hand-dipped chocolate-covered strawberries. And certainly no dinners out. (After all those years in the trenches, going out on Valentine’s Day still spikes a stress response). 

Despite my Grinch-like attitude towards this amorous holiday, there’s one V-Day gesture I can get behind: buying flowers for your special someone. And this year, I propose that your special someone be you.

There’s a distinctive pleasure in receiving an armload of blooms. Flowers are a mood-lifting burst of color wrapped in a parcel of soothing green foliage. With their assorted perfumes, velvety petals and, in the case of edible flowers, subtle flavors, they engage our senses as few other gifts do. There’s something about an artfully arranged bouquet that feels luxurious and, depending on how puritanical your upbringing was, maybe even a little naughty. Flowers are by their very nature fleeting--the precise opposite of a practical investment. The most stunning bouquet will soon wilt and fade. And even dried flowers will eventually crumble to dust.

Which is exactly why you should get yourself flowers this Valentine’s Day, or any other day for that matter. You should buy yourself this supremely impractical present to remind yourself that you are a magnificent goddess (or god--no gender stereotypes around here!) who deserves to have beauty in your life regardless of your relationship status. 

Gifting yourself flowers is a statement of self-love and thus a small act of empowerment. 

And before you start to list off reasons not to treat yourself like a queen this Valentine’s Day, let me say this: beautiful flowers don’t have to be expensive or time consuming. Though you can easily spend well into the three figures on a bespoke bouquet from an artisan florist, you can also spend $3.99 at Trader Joe’s, like I did for the miniature carnations below, and arrange your flowers in a jam jar--with or without some greenery foraged from your yard (or, under duress, your neighbor’s yard). Ten minutes, $4 and voilà--you’re a Valentine’s Day goddess!

However you choose to go about loving yourself this Valentine’s Day, the thing to keep in mind is that you deserve it--whether you’re in a relationship or not. Whether you have your dream job and loads of money or not. Whether you’re #winningatlife or not. So before next Wednesday, I want you to gift yourself a bouquet that will brighten your space and make you feel special every time you look at it.

Because you are. 

---

Bouquet in progress at The London Plane

If you're in Seattle

My favorite places to buy flowers are The London Plane and Glasswing. Both have a beautifully curated selection of unique blooms and are currently taking orders for Valentine's Day bouquet delivery and in-store pick-up. 

The self-serve flower bar at Glasswing.

keep going. it gets better.

Hello and Happy 2018!

I know this is a little late in the month to be wishing you well for the new year, but I decided I needed to step away from the blog for a minute to do some New Year’s reflecting.

I turned 43 over the holidays. There’s a piece of me that thinks I should not be posting that information to the internets. But given the current epidemic of sexism and discrimination in this country, there’s a piece of me that feels it’s more important than ever to stand up and be who you really are. 

As I was thinking about all this and whether to “out” myself as over 40, I realized reaching this point in my life has some distinct advantages. Like the fact that I finally accept and love myself. But, good lord, has it been a long road getting here!

As a chubby bi-racial kid growing up in white America, I always believed I had to be better-than to get by. So I stayed vigilant. I demanded straight A’s of myself from the first grade on. I wanted to be beautiful, skinny, popular. So I worked multiple after-school jobs to buy myself the “right” clothes. I joined the pom pom squad so boys would notice me. I got up 3 hours before school to straighten my hair. I started dieting and jumping rope in our basement late at night for hours each week like some sort of brown, female version of Rocky Balboa. When dieting didn’t work as flawlessly as I’d hoped, I started making myself throw up. 

Attending the hallowed (and uber-privileged) halls of Yale University didn’t help things. I excelled at school by white-knuckling my way through every class, obsessively pushing myself to study just a little harder. On the outside, I looked like I had my shit together. I had friends. I was getting good grades. My professors liked me. On the inside, I was a self-hating wreck with abysmal self-esteem and a crippling eating disorder.

Twenty years later, talking about this time in my life still makes me cringe inside. But I’m sharing this because I’m pretty sure I’m not alone in having felt this way. There are thousands of other women out there, if not more, who have at some point felt the same pressure to do it all. To be beautiful and sexy and capable and smart and strong and independent and earn money hand over fist. I look around me and I see women silently pushing themselves to the point of cracking under the pressure for perfection and fear of judgement. I’m pretty sure social media isn’t helping. 

So I’m writing today with some advice for anyone out there feeling this way: Muster as much self-kindness and love as you can and keep going. It gets better. 

For some of us, happiness is a gift we’re born with. But most people have to work at it. That’s another thing I’ve learned in these 43 years; happiness takes work. 

It involves trying lots of things. And failing miserably at some. And forgiving yourself when you fall down. I think of it like a spiral staircase. We want to take an express elevator from the ground floor to the penthouse. But life doesn’t work that way. Instead, we take a verrrrrry long spiral staircase, looping around and around making the same mistakes many times over, but learning something new with each time around and always finding ourselves a little higher than we were before.

At 43, I feel more creative and engaged with my own life than ever. I’m excited about the possibility each day holds. I care less about what people think and so I’m free to like myself the way I am. I’ve learned how to say no to toxic people and pointless obligations. I’ve learned how to trust myself. 

Which doesn’t mean I’m walking around Cloud 9 with a shit-eating grin on my face. I make mistakes and get mad about things that aren’t important. I swear like a sailor. Sometimes I’m jealous of what other people have. My feelings get hurt. But at most moments of most days, when I think about my life, I am happy.

For a while now, I’ve been feeling the need to pivot this blog towards something more meaningful than new recipes. Because I am who I am, there will always be food. I still think cooking for others and gathering friends around your table is one of the most life-affirming things you can do. And taking the time to feed yourself delicious, nourishing food is deeply satisfying.

There will also be posts on how to travel better and more often. Experiencing new cultures and connecting with people who are different from us, leaves us more open-minded. Shaking off our day-to-day routines provides fresh perspectives and insights. Tasting new flavors and seeing unfamiliar sights leaves us creatively energized and we come home our best selves, refreshed and inspired to try new things.

There will be posts on making your house (or apartment or RV or yurt) feel like a home. There will be posts on engaging with the beauty of art, design, fashion and nature. There will be ideas for how to take better care of your body, mind and soul. 

Going forward, I’m envisioning this blog as an offbeat lifestyle magazine devoted to helping foster meaningful human connections through food, travel, art and design. 

I’ve got a new name in the works to reflect the shift. I’m also dreaming up ways this space could feel like more of a community and help like-minded people come together for discussion, friendship and inspiration. I’m thinking: forums, meet-ups, dinners and retreats devoted to sparking the creative genius inside all of us. 

This blog would be nothing without all of you. So I want to hear back in the comments from every single one of you (yes, my fellow introverted lurkers, even you) about what sorts of topics, events, workshops and retreats would bring more joy to your life this year! 

Because I want to devote this space to helping women from 23 to 83, and every perfect age in between, design a beautiful, creative, more satisfying life.