Winona Dimeo-Ediger

Dear Winona,

Make a u-turn into the darkest recesses of your psyche. Wonder about your life purpose: Were you put on earth to stare at computer screens and pay bills and die? Cringe while imagining what your idealistic college self would think of you now. Conclude that your life lacks creativity and meaning and simple joys.

...canning stuff is the best. It makes you feel like a badass pioneer woman preparing for the Oregon Trail except in this scenario you’re making orange basil marmalade for brunches rather than sustenance and you have unlimited access to a shower.

Instagram: Don’t eat it though, just hold it. With a stiff, outstretched arm in front of a whimsical mural on a decaying brick wall.

A New York Times editorial about women’s proclivity for apologizing for things that aren’t their fault has been making the rounds on social media this week. For many of us, the article hit home in a pretty profound way, especially the scene where the author, Sloane Crosley, described saying “sorry” multiple times for a restaurant messing up her order, something over which she had absolutely no control and in fact should have been receiving apologies for.

The HGTV show “Property Brothers” is a source of endless design inspiration and sexual fantasies. The former is due to the gorgeous real estate listings and impressive home renovations featured on the show. The latter is due to Jonathan and Drew, the beautiful twin brothers who host the show.

This woman has serious swagger. It’s a slightly more subtle swagger than, say, Snoop Lion, but it’s there: in the nonchalant flick of her wrist while tossing garlic cloves into a food processor; in her decision to throw a spontaneous formal garden party just because she made a frittata, and in her firm pronouncements to use only “good” ingredients — without ever defining what that means.

Clothes can be altered. Clothes can be sold. Clothes can be swapped with friends. In the meantime, you have to get dressed every day, and you might as well love the clothes you have right now.

There’s something that happens on social media every time a celebrity dies. After the initial shock and questions of “is it a hoax?” have abated, people start telling stories.

There’s that moment when you’re waiting in line for a buffet when you get a whiff of something funky, and one of your friends is like, “Is that vomit?” and another one is like, “Is it coming from that plant?” and you all shudder, plug your noses, and forget about it 20 minutes later because dude, all you can eat crab!