Dear Planet Sentimentality: An Open Letter to Everyone I Will Ever Know

Let me start with: I come in peace.

I’m a big believer that it’s best to keep mixed company; it holds our eyes open and perspectives pliable. It makes us question ourselves, even if that questioning never makes it into the public sphere. It moderates our judgement.

That said, as I creep closer to thirty, I’m realizing how important candor is–both for relationship health and for one’s personal wellness (it is psychologically exhausting to act as if one is open, especially without pay). And bad for one’s health.

In the spirit of transparency and at the risk of alienating (pun intended) some of you, I’m here with an admission. I do not understand you sentimental types. And while I’m not here to pass judgement, I do want to set some realistic boundaries so we can enjoy a harmonious partnership.

1. I may not be able to help myself from performing a theatre-worthy eye roll when you use terms like “bundle of joy,” “lovebirds,” “hubs,” “bubs,” or any sort of endearing abbreviation for a member of your family. Hopefully I’ll have enough tact to wait until you’re digging in your purse for your matching mother/daughter hair bows before my baby blues loll deep into their sockets, but I can’t promise anything.

Read the rest on BLUNTmoms.

Surprise, Me! An Unexpected Re-Uprooting, Nearly Three Years Later.

Our life in Amsterdam is full. Of noise, of luminosity, of warmth, of imagination, of exploration, growth. Full of fullness. After five weeks in the US of A, however, I'm still reeling from the pain of having to say farewell, again, to the people who know me best. The Colorado goodbyes hit me with blinding velocity. My friendships there have tethered me to the earth in my darkest moments, brought me back into the light. I owe them nothing, everything; I am due the same from them. Reciprocity is a masterpiece.

High on Sunshine (Awards)

2014 is two weeks old, and already I'm pretty pumped about it. Joining BLUNTmoms has given my writing, editing, and thinking a massive creative jolt. They inspire me to be funnier, more concise, better in every way. Finding said bitches has been like finding my homeland, or maybe I mean like being adopted into an insane, profane, and utterly politically incorrect all-woman version of the Brady Bunch.

You can only begin to imagine my elation (defined above) when BLUNTmoms mastermind Julie bestowed upon me a Sunshine Award.  It came after a particularly rough and barfy day, and her love warmed my world like, well, sunshine. A Sunshine Award is FBBB (for bloggers, by bloggers), and a way to recognize people who have charmed, supported, enlightened, and inspired the awarder in recent months.

Post-Holiday Eating: Savory Roasted Chickpeas

My arteries wrote this morning, and they're pissed. Christmas in the Midwest means meat overload, appetizers infused with mayo and cream cheese, mixed nuts by the handful, cookies at every turn, and general overconsumption. I'm not a calorie counter and indulge in the foods I love without guilt, but by January every year I'm ready for salads, juice bars, whole grains, healthy oils. Etcetera. There's nothing like gluttony to make gluttony seem rather nasty.

Today I succeeded in remedying the nut craze that overtook me in recent days. Yes, I just said nut craze. And, yes, I know nuts are healthy. But not in the amounts consumed around these parts since the third week in December. I needed a nut cleanse.

(Yup. Just said nut cleanse.)

Ho Ho Ho, Merry Riddance: Five Reasons I’m Pleased to See Christmas Out the Door

Let’s be real. The anticipation of Christmas is better than the actual experience of Christmas. For the first thirty minutes, the twinkling lights, jovial ambient noise, and surge in blood sugar are intoxicating. And, similarly like other kinds of intoxication, the shiny facade fades with time. The twinkling lights begin to twinkle a bit too brightly, a sour comment rises from the once pleasant din, and the cookies start tasting a little too sweet.

After five family holiday gatherings, I was vexed in a way that’s only possible in the latter half of December.

1. The inevitable bigoted and/or racist comment that gets tossed out like a rotting mouse carcass into the middle of the room. Keep your stinky thoughts to yourself, please.

2. The transmutation of our (still sometimes nice) toddler into a writhing, screaming, kicking Present Monster. At the sight of unopened gifts, Julian lost what little of his mind is correctly connected at this stage. He had to be physically removed early from one of the celebrations because his behavior verged on criminal.

Read the rest over at BLUNTmoms.