I came to Halo Roasters today, my favorite coffee shop down the road from my house, to write. Over the past few weeks Andrew and I have been talking about our 2026 goals. While he always likes to have goals around learning new things, expanding his ever-growing list of practical skills and boundless knowledge, I keep coming back to my first love: writing. I want to try to find a publisher and agent; I want to give a writing career a real shot. Not just something I do as a hobby and earns a little extra pocket change; I want to be able to fully focus on it.

Last weekend we were on a tour of Stitzel-Weller Distillery where they have 29 houses filled with 380,000 barrels of whisky. According to the tour guide, that's not even a large amount compared to other locations used for the aging process. I've tasted 30-year whisky before but what I never really thought about until that moment was how long 30 years actually is.

The story I’m about to tell you has everything: laughter, suspense, tears… it even has neon signs. It starts in the United Lounge at Newark Airport when we were doing what you usually do when your flight is delayed: we settled in, sipped some free wine, and bonded with strangers over the shared travel experience. As we were talking about the delays with the young woman sitting next to us, I relayed my experience from when I used to travel every week for work. I told her that I learned there is no point in going to the gate until you get the It's time to board text message. She had already gone there once and came back when it was delayed another hour; just stay here I told her, I never go until the app updates. They always tell you when they're boarding. It was in that moment when the universe decided to one-up Allanis Morrisette and delivered the mother of all ironic moments…

Last week when I messaged all of my friends asking about their favorite holiday traditions, the most interesting response was actually the very first one that I got. It was from a friend of mine who said he had no traditions; this immediately sent me into therapist mode (I'm not a therapist) and I asked how he felt about that. He said he didn't mind not having them, because he's never been particularly nostalgic. As someone who still has her childhood jewelry box on her dresser, I could not relate, but I respected it because I have seen the dark side of traditions: the traditions trap.

I was on a walk this week discussing holiday traditions and how they often fall somewhere on the spectrum between nostalgic joy and stressful obligation. This discussion prompted me to text dozens of my friends and family asking them what their favorite holiday traditions were. I got so many responses that it led to this post being a two parter. The responses included more elaborate events like organized gingerbread house competitions, extended family secret Santa, and a women-only silly ornament exchange, to the simpler listening to Warner Bros Jazz Christmas Party, sleeping in the same room as their siblings, and getting a Christmas tree the day after Thanksgiving.

On our drive home last night from our annual Thanks-getaway, we were passing the time in the car with some holiday podcasts. While listening to A Cozy Christmas Podcast, we learned from guest Grace Tierney about the word scurryfunge. It’s from the 1700s and originally had something to do with deep cleaning (and I think something about fish… or the sea…. I zoned out a bit), but by the 1950s it had shifted to describe a very specific moment. You know that feeling before guests come over and nothing is clean or ready yet? That is what inspires a scurryfunge: the frantic moment when you scurry to get everything tidied up real quick.

I was recently scrolling through my phone and saw something that went something like this: whatever you waste your time doing is what you should be doing for the rest of your life. So that's it everyone, I'm ending my business and I’m going to be a full time Instagram reel-watcher with a Hallmark-movie-watcher side hustle.

This week I received my first large royalty check. As a writer and content creator for professional development workshops, I have a few things out there that create some passive income, but they have never really produced more than a couple hundred dollars. Until now.

This week, I started listening to Holiday music and watching Christmas movies. Not in secret or with a sheepish don’t judge me disclaimer; I am loud and proud stepping into the Holidays. And I say holidays and not Christmas because my favorite song that I've had on repeat is actually a Hannukah song called Miracle (I dare you to listen to this song and not immediately love life). In the past, I would have called this early-holiday-listening a guilty pleasure. But I’ve decided I hate that term: why should I feel guilty about something that makes me happy?

In early September, Phoebe Adams played a joke on her boyfriend when she tried passing off a rock as a $150 decoration from Anthropologie. Since Adams is a content creator (and therefore makes money off of views), I tend to be a bit skeptical. I do not know if his reaction was genuine or if they planned the whole thing together (I'm leaning toward the latter) but what I was more interested in was what happened next.

I was reading a book recently called The Purpose Revolution and on page 77 the author referenced a study that reported people who feel connected to their life purpose get more sleep. It was an interesting statistic; however, I couldn't help but question it. Do people who feel connected to their purpose get more sleep? Or is it that people that get more sleep are more likely to feel more connected to their purpose? Or is this just two unrelated data points where causation does not exist at all?

Last month I was sitting in a hot tub, listening to my morning coffee playlist, and scrolling through the usual content I like to hit before I start my day: The Daily Skimm News email, the New York Times Morning, and then a bit of mindless scrolling on Instagram.  As I took in the beautiful Tennessee morning, with the sounds of nature all around me, an image came up that made me smile…

Creating an anniversary Reel has become one of my favorite traditions; a personal highlight reel I can revisit anytime, like my own little home movie. It’s a chance to reflect on the past year of our marriage and celebrate the moments that made it special. This year’s reel is full of road trips, renovations, and adventure. Looking at all those pictures and videos, it’s easy to forget that between the smiles and snapshots, there were also some hard moments. You won’t see those on social media, which is exactly why I want to call them out them here. While I’m just one perspective, I’m willing to bet that anyone who’s made it to 10, 20, or 50+ years together would agree: you get that far not because it’s always happy, but because you don’t let the unhappy stop you.

This week was exhausting, and many of you know why. Your messages and support poured in last Sunday morning after reading my Sunday Starter, and I can’t tell you how much that meant to me and my family. Without going into too many details, I’ll simply share that my mother is now home and doing better. After five days in the hospital, I’m finally beginning to process the whirlwind of emotions this week held.

The only reason there is a Sunday Starter this morning is because I couldn’t sleep. In the past 36 hours I have been a first responder to an MCI (Mass Casuality Incident), I wrote, rehearsed, and delivered the eulogy at my aunt’s service, and then spent the remainder of the day at the hospital for a family emergency. Needless to say, I’m mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted.

I just spent 6 days at sea with a boat full of strangers. We had some great times (although if I never have to eat at buffet again, I won’t complain) and we also met some great people. We sang at the piano bar with them, sailed on a catamaran, snorkeled, and shared stories by the infinity pool. I am grateful for every laugh shared and the good memories, but I also know I will most likely never see any of them again. When I was younger, I used to desperately try to hold onto friendships like these; I would try to extend them to make them last longer. But the older I get the more I appreciate the fact that some friendship is only shared for a day, or an excursion, or even just a drink at the bar.

There’s a trend making waves on TikTok - though I’ll admit, I didn’t stumble upon it while scrolling the app. I read about it in the New York Times, which feels far more aligned with my old-soul sensibilities. The phrase is “locking in,” and while it’s been floating around for a few years, it’s recently taken on new life through something creators are calling The Great Lock In.

Earlier this week we drove down to the Smoky Mountains in Tennessee where we've been working from an Airbnb. My makeshift desk has been facing a large wall of windows overlooking a sea of trees. It is also where I have set up my yoga mat, which means every day I've been able to take some intentional time to not only stretch and reset my mind, but to do it with a setting that automatically puts me at peace.

I had the pleasure of meeting someone for coffee this morning; she's about a year into retirement and trying to figure out this next phase of her life. A friend of mine had given her my book and so she reached out asking to pick my brain (which I love, by the way, never hesitate to reach out to me). Her story is similar to mine in that she wants to lead professional development workshops and ideally become a keynote speaker. Also like me, she has a lot of experience from an impressive career and could probably speak on a dozen different topics. Unfortunately, having a versatile skill set is a double-edged sword.

It's 10:30 on Saturday night and I haven't written my Starter yet. I debated on just writing it in the morning - which I have done only once or twice before - but I didn't want to start my week feeling like I was already behind. Do you know that feeling? Like no matter how much you accomplish you just still feel like you're falling short?