Home and Garden

A couple winters ago, after a long day of baking banana bread and boiling soup bones, I walked into the bathroom and couldn’t see myself in the mirror. Not because it was steamy—though it was—but because I realized I hadn’t cracked a window in days. Everything felt… heavy. The air was thick, and I don’t mean in a cozy way. My house had that slightly sour, lived-in smell, like a stack of damp dish towels nobody wanted to deal with. So I did something that felt a little rebellious for January—I opened the kitchen window. Just a sliver. Just enough …

Let me tell you a little secret—I used to lose my handbags in my own closet. There was a time when I had to play a mini game of Tetris just to get to the one crossbody bag I actually wanted. My go-to tote? Always crushed under three lesser-used purses and a rogue scarf. And don’t even get me started on clutches sliding into oblivion somewhere behind the shoes. Sound familiar? If you’ve got a soft spot for stylish bags but not-so-much room to keep them straight, girl, I get it. Whether you’ve invested in designer pieces or just love …

A couple of weeks ago, I was driving back from my daughter’s place after a late dinner—tired, full, and just ready to slip into my slippers. That’s when I noticed a car behind me with green lights flashing from the dashboard area. Not the headlights. Not the underglow. Just… green. And let me tell you, I had no idea what that meant. Was it some new techy thing? A fancy car mod? Or something official? That little mystery stuck with me, and I did a bit of digging the next day over coffee. And wow—there’s a whole world of meaning …

One spring morning a few years back, I got a little too excited. The sun was finally out after what felt like a six-month gray spell, and my local nursery had those adorable tomato starts just sitting there, begging to be adopted. So, I did what any overly ambitious home gardener would do—I bought six, rushed home, and planted them right into the ground. A week later? Frost. Killed every single one. I stood out there in my muddy slippers, coffee in hand, staring at their wilted little bodies like I’d just hosted a garden funeral. It was a tough …

The other night, I was making my usual Tuesday night pasta—nothing fancy, just olive oil, a splash of white wine, some chili flakes, and lots of garlic (because that’s the way my mother did it, and I’m not about to start breaking rules). Anyway, I was down to the peeling part—y’know, wrestling with those stubborn little cloves—and it hit me: my hands were going to reek of garlic ‘til Thursday. Again. That’s when I remembered this random YouTube tip I saw a while back, and let me tell you—it changed my life. All it involved was one of those grippy …

Alright, let’s talk stoves—because if you’ve ever tried to boil pasta on a burner that takes forever to heat up, you know this isn’t just a “kitchen appliance” debate. It’s personal. Back when I was in my twenties, I rented this little place that had an old electric stove with burners so lopsided, my pans used to slide off if I wasn’t watching. I burned more grilled cheese sandwiches than I care to admit. Then years later, I moved into a house with a gas range, and I felt like Julia Child herself. That open flame? It made me feel …

A few Decembers back, when the days felt short and the coffee pot ran overtime, I found myself staring at a blank canvas. Not metaphorically—literally. A plain white 16×20 canvas that had been sitting in the corner of my craft room since spring. The house already sparkled with holiday lights, but something in me wanted a new kind of glow. Something quieter, something… magical. So I picked up my paintbrush and a strand of those tiny battery-powered Christmas lights (the ones I had no business saving “just in case”), and the idea hit me like a sugar rush from peppermint …

So here’s the thing… a few years ago, right around early December, I was knee-deep in Christmas bins and digging through the garage for that one box of lights I swore I’d labeled “FRONT PORCH – DO NOT BURY.” Of course, it was buried. But what I did find was a stack of old tomato cages from the summer garden—dusty, bent, and totally forgotten. And I don’t know what came over me, but I looked at them and thought: “Well, you could be a tree.” Next thing I knew, I had one flipped upside down, wrapped in lights, and glowing …

It all started with a pile of old sweaters I couldn’t quite let go of. You know the ones — stretched-out sleeves, tiny moth holes, a few coffee stains that tell stories of cold mornings and warm hands. I couldn’t donate them, but I couldn’t throw them out either. So I stared at them until the idea bloomed: what if they could hug my garden the way they used to hug me? And just like that, I was sliding a ribbed wool sleeve over a coffee can, grinning like I’d just invented something brilliant. Maybe I didn’t invent it, but …

You know that drawer. The one that doesn’t really close anymore because it’s stuffed to the brim with who-knows-what. For Jane, it was full of fabric scraps—some tiny as a teabag, others big enough to almost be useful. She didn’t have the heart to toss them, and they just sat there… for years, if we’re being honest. But one quiet afternoon, when the house was unusually still and the tea was still warm, she opened that drawer—not to shove more in, but to finally do something with it. And what she did? Well, it was nothing short of wonderful. Why …