Heather is an essayist, editor, CMO, mommy, and wife seeking stillness while in a state
of nearly constant motion. She lives, walks, and eats in the greatest city in the world: Chicago.
Amidst the frenzy, baking gingersnaps is a cherished tradition, infusing the air with the warmth of spices and memories. It's a moment to pause and savor the simple pleasures of sharing homemade treats with those we love, encapsulating the essence of holiday joy.
Read MoreNavigating my family's culinary preferences has always been an adventure, but my youngest son's devotion to the Beige/White Food Group has been a humbling reminder of parenting's unpredictable nature. I'm learning to embrace the journey, hopeful that one day, he might share in the broad, colorful tapestry of flavors we cherish.
Read MoreDive into our summer saga of family firsts where golf becomes a bonding ritual, Adam Sandler and The Three Stooges redefine comedy for my kids, and spicy challenges bring on the heat (and laughs).
Read MoreSometimes, the act of letting go is the first step towards truly moving forward.
Read MoreIt’s that magical time of year when mailboxes are stuffed with catalogs and sale postcards. But tucked somewhere in all of that direct mail, I always hope to find a festive holiday note or two. I know they have a terrible reputation, but I honestly love Christmas cards.
Read MoreMy mother wrote letters to my grandmother almost weekly for many years; her perfect handwriting documented the quotidian events raising the four of us in the decades before email and the internet. They were carefully saved, and recently my mom sent one to me, dated September 13, 1977. In it, she writes about the days leading up to my first day of kindergarten.
Read MoreIn early 2020 when things shut down, my family and I shut down, too. At first, it was just supposed to be a few weeks. No big deal: After Spring Break (our trip was canceled like everything else), we’d be back.
Of course, it didn’t quite work out that way.
Read MoreI can’t remember a time in my life when I wasn’t worried about being fat.
I suffered through the indignities of having my BMI measured and announced publicly in gym class and struggling through the Presidential Physical Fitness test twice a year (fuck you, flexed arm hang). I did endless sit-ups in my room in the middle of the night to ensure I would pass. I went on ‘diets’ where I restricted my eating before I was 10. I wrote down everything I ate in my diary.
It is a very boring diary.
My dad was a great storyteller. Even though he was a little shy with strangers, he loved to spin a good yarn from time to time with his family. His best tales were stories about Chicago. But my favorite story was how he came into his chili recipe.
Read Morelove Christmas, every part. Cookies and food and seasonal music, yes, please. I make menus and gift lists, and I obsess about all the details. The kids and I count down to Santa’s visit, and the Elf on the Shelf (his name is Bubbles) is in full effect every night.
This essay should be right up my tinsel-laden alley.
But not this year.
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