When it comes to my beauty routine (or occasional lack thereof), I am an enormous creature of habit. Some of my favorite products have been in the rotation for literally over a decade - but my feeling is that while it's great (and fun) to discover new stuff, sometimes you just gotta find what works for you, and stick with it.
Related Read: What Do Top Beauty Bloggers Spend Their Own Money On?
Here's what works for me, time and again (and again, and again).
Me, about to do something random and rad.
I’ve done a lot of random (and rad) things over the course of my 10-year career as a blogger. I’ve been lifted in glass cubes onto Las Vegas stages. I’ve used myself as a guinea pig for everything from laser treatments to Rogaine. I’ve clogged on rooftops, worked with the FBI on a sting operation to take down a Moroccan hacking ring, and walked around New York City dressed as a superhero to source decor ideas.
I would like to officially announce that I shall be commencing my residency as "That Blogger Chick Who Won't Shut Up About Her Instant Pot." I can't help it; it makes me feel like a GENIUS.
Enter the dish I fully went ahead and improvised the other night, because I happened to have chicken thighs and mushrooms in the refrigerator, because everybody likes cream, and because my son requires pasta to be present in 100% of his meals. Presto: Creamy Chicken & Mushroom Tetrazzini. (I'm not sure this is technically tetrazzini, but whatever: My recipe, my rules.)
What You Need:
The family ornament we chose to sum up 2019
Well. THAT was a year.
I'm ready to be boring for awhile, please and thanks. Because 2019 was a lot of things - oh god, so many things; all the things - but a snoozefest it was not. I published a book that resulted in the most emotionally intimate and exhausting book tour of my life. I wrote two more that'll be out next year (you can preorder one of them now), and put my seventh (!!!) into contract. I started a new marketing side-hustle, and actually work out of an office (IMAGINE) a couple of days a week now. I moved. Again.
I have been working my little tucchus off these last couple of weeks getting the new place in order, and I can't wait any longer: I need to start doing some room reveals, even if they're not perfect-perfect. (Which, of course, nothing ever is - especially in a house with oh god, so many children and cats and pillows that will not stay in the spot where I put them.)
The extent to which our living room - as distinct from the family room, where we keep the TV and thus my offspring - came together was such a surprise to me. See, when I moved into my last house I realized that I'd vastly underestimated just how large it was - it was easily twice the size of our place in San Jose. What that meant was that I had multiple completely unfurnished - and kind of enormous - rooms, and so I ended up buying furniture on a much bigger scale than I ever have before. That Ikea couch, for example - you know, the one that I had recovered? It is a BOAT.
When I toured this house before moving in, the formal living room - where that couch-boat would have to live for reasons I'll explain at a later date - struck me as kinda small, or at least too small for that couch. But I figured...you know, we're not in a couch-buying moment right now. So I'd just make it work.
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I have been dying for an Instant Pot. But only because everyone on the Internets told me I should be dying for an Instant Pot; I didn't even know what these things do, exactly. Aren't they just...crockpots? ...Sort of?
Apparently Instant Pots cook meals in a fraction of the time you'd expect...but, as I completely do not understand the science behind pressure-cooking, it is very hard for me to believe that a meal that should ordinarily take eight hours to cook can take half an hour. That's some magic shit right there.
Three ladies, glasses raised, dancing together…You don’t need me to tell you that there’s a party going on here. The Three of Cups is a picture of celebration, of communion. This is a card about sharing joy with friends.
Let’s go a little bit deeper. Cups are the suit of emotion, and in Tarot, groups of three represent a firm foundation. So the friends we see in this card aren’t just casual acquaintances; they’re your squad. They’re the friends who empower you to be your best self. And they’re the friends who are with you even when you’re maybe being…not totally your best self.
The holiday season is full of celebrations - one might even say "overfull." There are work parties. There are family get-togethers. If you’re a parent, you may be looking at a calendar stuffed with classroom parties and choir concerts and dance recitals. These communal gatherings can be delightful, but they can also be draining. There’s a big difference between compulsory socializing and reconnecting with soul friends. The Three of Cups wants you to make time to spend with people who fill your cup rather than drain it.
All together, now: Shopping for guy gifts is the worst. Whiskey cubes! Cuff links! Tiny "Zen" boxes of dirt that one must theoretically groom, for calmness or something. It's just the same stuff, over and over and over, and if the men in your life are anything like the men in mine, they are zero help ("What do you want for Christmas?" "Oh, you know...whatever.").
This stuff? Is not the same stuff.
I've gotten a lot of questions about whether the effects of the retreat I went on in September "lasted." It was an expensive trip, and for me to opt out of my entire life for a full week required about as much insane hoop-jumping as you can imagine...but if I had to do it all over again, the answer to "would I?" is "absolutely."
I'm not meditating every day anymore. I'm not using all of the "tools" that they gave me (although I am using some). But there was one very fundamental takeaway I got from the retreat, and it's one that appears to have taken root.
I give myself space now.
When I first started blogging - during the Wild West years - it was a time when bloggers were virtually showered with swag. Everything from champagne to deodorant arrived on my doorstep - unsolicited - on the regular, and every time my fellow blogger friends and I attended an "event", we were sent off with bags overflowing with moisturizers and chocolates and sunglasses and what have you. See, brands were still trying to figure out how to harness this newfangled thing called "social media," and the initial plan was apparently to throw their stuff at the wall and see what stuck. In other words, for the relatively low cost of wholesale product, they hoped that they'd get what amounted to free coverage (at least relative to what they'd pay for traditional media).
This was obviously REALLY fun in the beginning. Overwhelming, even. But honestly? Over time, another lip gloss in your mailbox just stops being exciting, and starts being just another thing you don't need. What this meant: I became the actual best gift-giver on Planet Earth, sifting through my stash for the just-right gifts for everyone in my life - gifts, suffice it to say, that I would never, ever have been able to afford all on my lonesome.
Now, the industry shifted several years ago towards a more traditional pay-for-play approach - as did my personal business model, wherein I only accept product from clients I'm contracted to work with or otherwise intend to review for the site - but the fact that I love giving my friends gifts: That stayed. There's just nothing like it.
