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.
Doomscrolling is SOOO July. Do you remember July? China started sending us random seeds, Ghislaine Maxwell was finally arrested (we do not wish her the best), and Trump wore a mask in public for the first time, and it wasn't even Halloween. So. Brave.
Read MoreI noticed that even though my cookbook shelf was full, it was dominated by white authors and western-European cuisine. As someone who embraces new food, new experiences, I was embarrassed by the glaring omissions of the culinary foundations of American cooking on the shelf. Time for more change.
Read MoreA few months BC (Before COVID), I read Year of Yes, by Shauna Rhimes. The premise is deceptively simple: Despite incredible professional success, the Queen of Shaunda Land felt lonely and unfulfilled. On a dare from her sister, Shaunda spent a year saying “Yes” to everything – speaking engagements, parties, working out, salads, events – and she found her new life surprisingly rewarding and exciting in ways she hadn’t imagined it could be.
I was inspired and energized as she told her story, but as I considered my own life, I felt like I was very, very far away from So Much Yes.
I said no. A lot.
Read MoreI Googled what to do when a bird hits your window. Make it comfortable, the Audubon site says, leave it alone if it doesn’t seem injured. If it does seem injured, contact animal control. There is no information about what to do if a bird hits your window during a global pandemic.
Read MoreI started writing this essay with the intention of providing advice for my sons as they grew into men. Some tips were specific (Change your socks every day); some general (Learn to be OK with failure), and some were based on my own life experience (Don't get married until you're 30). But as I observed my sons with a journalistic eye, I realized how much they can teach us all.
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.
Read MoreI have always had my doubts about people who don’t like to eat. Is my son one of those people? Someone who eats the same, monotonous thing every day, for his whole life and doesn’t think twice about it? Who never takes risks, never tries anything new, ever? Someone who eats McDonald’s in France?
Read MoreFriday nights have long been associated with good times: Happy Hours, date nights, movie premieres. Through the years I’ve looked forward to events like those, but lately, my Fridays are more about popcorn and pajamas than pomp and circumstance.
In our home, Friday nights are reserved for movies with my boys, and it’s my favorite thing.
Read MoreAt one point in my life, I used my maiden name as my middle name, and my husband’s last name as my own, but then my middle name disappeared. I remember seeing my ‘new’ name on some official document and I found it disorienting and unfamiliar.
Where was my name? Who was this? Where had I gone?
Read MoreSummer as a parent is a season of extremes; both endless and fleeting.
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