Share on Pinterest

Whenever something is wrong with me, when I'm in pain or not feeling well for one reason or another, I do the best thing I can think to do for a remedy: I turn to Google. You do it too, I'm sure. Or at least you have at some point in your life. Type your symptoms into a search engine and BAM, instant diagnosis. Of course, nine out of ten times Google tells me that whatever is wrong with me is cancer. Headache? Cancer. Skin rash? Cancer. Fever? Fucking cancer. It's probably not cancer. It's probably just a cold. Or a stressful day...

It's been about two months since I "finished" KonMari-ing my apartment. I put finished in quotes here because I'm technically not all the way through with my tidying. I still have a shelf full of photo albums and other mementos that I am getting through. Slowly. Those things, being the most sentimental of things, and of a pretty large category, will take a while still to sort. But those things are out of the way and not highly utilized. So. Whatever. But I finished tidying everything else. I went through every piece of clothing I owned, one by one. I went...

I've written before about my "buy once" philosophy: how I'd rather spend a little more money on something that is better quality or something that I really, really, love, with the idea that it will be a "forever piece." Or, at least, an "as long as humanly possible" piece and not something I am buying with the idea that I will eventually upgrade or eventually replace. Of course, that's not always possible. Sometimes you just need something now and can't wait until you can find or afford the perfect version. When my can opener broke, recently, and I could barely open...

Two years ago I bought a fig tree. It was at once a thoroughly calculated and yet impulsive buy. I'd wanted to get a fig tree, I'd thought about getting a fig tree, I'd researched where I could even get a fig tree in Chicago, if you could even grow a fig tree in Chicago. And then I ended up purchasing one at a farmer's market outside my train stop. I was on my way to work when I spotted it at a stand, handed over $20, and lugged it home. I was late to work that day.   [caption id="attachment_46514" align="aligncenter"...

"I don't have to do this!" I yelled at the box. And, it's true, I don't have to do this. I don't have to clean my apartment. I don't have to organize everything I own. I don't have to throw anything away. I don't have to throw everything away. I don't have to hang my dresses in an ascending line. I don't have to fold my underwear. I don't have to do this. I don't have to do any of this. I started "KonMari"-ing my life about two weeks ago. After reading The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up I went through my clothes...

I spend my entire life cleaning. OK, maybe that's an overstatement. But, no, I spend my entire life cleaning. Or, at least, thinking that maybe I should clean. There's always laundry that somehow gathers in a pile next to the hamper. There's always a sink full of dishes that cascades onto the kitchen counter. There's always a trail of litter on the floor that I'll sweep up tomorrow. Maybe. There's always hair in the drain or a closet door that won't quite close or an empty can of Coke on the nightstand or a sheet corner that has come loose. There's...

There are two types of first-time mothers. There are those mothers who decorate the baby's nursery for the baby. Teddy-bear printed bedding. Chunky plastic toys in bright primary colors. Dancing elephant mobiles in gender-friendly pink or blue. Then there are those mothers who decorate the nursery for themselves. Mid-century modern cribs. Monochromatic color schemes in dusty lavender or yellow and gray. Carefully selected wall garlands, lace tents, and a curated bookshelf styled with a vintage metal piggy bank, a precious stuffed bunny with a flower crown, and, just maybe, a couple of actual books. If I were a mother, I'd be the...

A while back I wrote about why I never want to live with someone ever again. I still do love living alone, having my own space, doing my own thing. But, I do hope to find someone and get married someday. And, sometimes, it would be nice to have someone else there. Someone to come home to. Someone to talk to. Someone to cuddle with. Someone to share life with. Someone to share responsibilities with. Someone to do the dishes. Someone to clean the toilet. Someone to fix things. Someone to do all that other crap I don't want to...

Not all of the things we want to do in life are monumental. Sometimes, a life goal might be seemingly small, simple, mundane, but something we want to accomplish all the same. I've been hoarding cooking magazines for as long as I could remember. In high school, college, I had stacks and stacks of Gourmet, Bon Appétit, and Martha Stewart Living on my shelves. I had a subscription to Better Homes & Gardens when I was in grade school. I still have a subscription to Food & Wine. At one point, long ago, the stacks started taking over my room. So I...

The sun had moved, just enough, to start flooding though my living room window again. It gave the whole room the same glow that made me fall in love with the apartment in the first place. My fig tree noticed too and started blooming to life again. Translucent lime sprouts, the first new growth I'd seen amongst the stale deep leaves that had held strong all winter, and something different, a little green bulb. My first fig was growing. I was growing a fig. Me, the girl with the blackest thumb you could imagine, was growing fruit. I knew it was too early in...