Carrie Saum

I also kind of feel like whatever I do eventually put in my body needs to be quality and filling and full of nutritious goodness. This is hard on mornings when it literally feels like all I can do to make toast. Sometimes I look at it, contemplate it fresh out of the toaster and briefly wonder if I really need to spread the almond butter on it. Because effort.

If you tend to eschew your inner child and prefer to feel somewhat sophisticated and faux-healthy, you can call a frozen wine drink a smoothie and it totally counts. Because we are all of a legal drinking age here and there is no shame in consuming your daily super fruit serving in a nutritious, fermented, frozen liquid form. The best part about all of this is you don’t need GOOD wine, you just need not-chardonnay.

So, what do you do when you make something that looks a mess but tastes like the Virgin Mary give birth in your mouth? You add more sugar and salt to hide its minor imperfections and nobody gives a damn how it looks after the first bite.

Newborn life...when that bliss wears off. Not all at once, and not in every way. But the bliss becomes less blinding. Everything returns to real life.

I LOVE brunch. I love brunch more than I love most humans/animals/home renovation shows. It will come as no surprise when I tell you that I revere brunch like many people revere Lady Gaga and The Big Lebowski and Christmas. Brunch is a Big Deal for me — I take it seriously.

Insisting on capability robs us of vulnerability. It robs us of the village we so desperately need. It creates resentment and mistrust. And most of all, it sets us up to fail.

When I tasted creamy jalapeño dip for the first time, I had to figure out immediately what was in it and how to make it. I was instantly addicted to the herby-creamy-spicy hit with just the faintest vinegary undertone. And by addicted, I mean that I wanted to drink it through a straw.

I knew it was bound to happen.  

Instead of making lunch once a day, I make it once every three days. It saves on energy, brain power, and I don't have to figure out feeding myself in my janky kitchen more often than absolutely necessary.

As a mom to a child with profound food allergies, I get a little terrified around the holidays. We are joining the Teal Pumpkin Project this Halloween.