weekend warrior.

So, this past weekend, those of us on the East Coast who have been bombarded with crappy weather got a break. Temperatures reached a damn near balmy 50 degrees on Sunday! Unfortunately, on Saturday, I didn’t get to see outside. It was one of those days where leaving the house simply was not an option. I’ve battled through snow, rain, and all sorts of madness to get shit done, but not Saturday. However! I did do my nails again!

This time, I chose China Glaze’s It’s a Trap-eze! What a fun color! Even in my sad, sad state, the bright glitter just made me smile. Also, it dried super fast, which is great because I have absolutely no patience.

Pretty, pretty colors!

Pretty, pretty colors!

Sunday, Lover Man and I took a trip to Philly. I needed to be a part of a real city again, even if just for a few hours. First, brunch at Talula’s Garden, a lovely restaurant hidden on a city street. Enter paradise.


Everything was lovely, from the attentive table service to food itself. The frittata was perfectly done, with thin slices of new potato, fresh pesto and smoked mozzarella that I believe was personally crafted by angels. That side of potatoes? Perfection. Also, I am a sucker for little details like this itty bitty pot of ketchup.

Pictured: a plate of heavenly awesomeness

Pictured: a plate of heavenly awesomeness

Also, can we all just agree that this display is so charming and adorable?



I admit, I’m a sucker for this kind of stuff. Also, it was only after I got there that I realized that the restaurant was also the brainchild of the woman who runs Talula’s Table, AKA the hardest restaurant to get a reservation to EVER, located in Kennett Square, PA. (Seriously, you have to call exactly one year in advance to get a reservation. Ah, someday….)

After that, we walked all around Center City, from Chestnut to South all the way back to Market. We had amazing vegan cupcakes at Sweet Freedom Bakery, which I will gladly go to again. Of course, I brought home a bag full of goodies! I love that they had coconut milk creamer and vegan sweeteners for the tea and coconut water in the fridge. My kind of bakery! Lover Man devoured his brownie cupcake, though he said the texture was a bit different than what he’s used to. I, being a fiend for coconut, had the Samoa cupcake. Oh. My. God. A little dense but incredibly moist, so sweet but not cloying, a creamy chocolate center that brought all the elements together.


A little midday treat.


Seriously…OH. MY. GOD.

The pink monster reared its ugly head again–seriously, I don’t know what my sudden attraction is to this color, but I’m just going to run with it–and I ended up buying a pair of way-too-expensive but super adorable socks from Jack Wills that I kind of want to wear every day ever.




Reading Terminal Market was kind of overwhelming, especially after our busy day of walking around, but a trip to The Herbiary stall eased my mind. Dried herbs! Bundles of sage! Handmade soaps! Tea! It definitely appealed to my Mama Earth witchy side. Exactly what I needed to end our day on the right note.


A bag full of lavender…is there anything better?


Tea: always the cure. Always.


Everything that is right with this world, in one convenient little package. The artwork alone sold me!

Going out into the world helped me feel human again, and, thanks to yet another storm, today I was rewarded with a little extra space to breathe and connect with my words. (I am so damn sick of the snow, but today, I was pretty damn grateful for it!) One step closer to getting back to myself.




This week fucking sucked. Still sick, still tired, still dealing with too much shit. Still wanting to write, still afraid, still wondering what the fuck I’m doing.


When shit goes down, and I feel depressed and overwhelmed, I try to find the little things that make me feel better. Sometimes, I just need to reach deep within and find the positive aspects of life. So, I document.

I sit by the fire at a cafe and read my friend Jennifer Sky’s brilliant account of her time as a teen model in Japan, Queen of the Tokyo Ballroom.

I carry around Cheryl Strayed’s Tiny Beautiful Things with me, a portable source of strength, stories of pain and hope and survival.

A gift card tucked away in the pocket of my coat last winter is found, and I turn a lunch break into an indulgent experience. Nothing too fancy or expensive, but little reminders of self-care. Inspiration in culture.

Flipping through a magazine on break (I think it was Marie Claire) and getting a shot of self esteem. I chose the last option without even having to think about it. I already have smarts and moves, and I don’t give a fuck about my flabby arms. Give me the wardrobe!

So, life’s not perfect. I’m working every day on being a better version of me, but the version of me that I am right now is pretty fucking tough. I am a survivor. I am a hard worker. I am smart as hell and clean up nicely (though you wouldn’t know it this week. I’ve walked around like a hobo. Let’s not talk about my hair. Let’s just…not).

Maybe I’ll do my nails again today. Maybe I’ll put some more words to paper. Maybe I’ll finally eat something. Maybe I’ll actually get out of bed, turn off The Golden Girls and do something that matters today.