Anybody turn to song lyrics when shit happens in your life? You know, for advice… for someone to commiserate with… just to know your experience is entirely human? Asking for a friend!

I went on a terrific long walk the other day and queued up, “All I Wanna Do,” from Sheryl Crow as the lead song for a playlist on my Spotify. Let me tell you, those lady singers… man did they have good life advice, with plenty of joy. It was like the musical equivalent of CBD gummies! A few random lines that spoke to me:

Everyday is a winding road
All I wanna do is have some fun
But I can’t let go
What it all boils down to, no one’s got it figured out just yet
You’re not alone like you think you are
We all have scars, I know it’s hard
Life is mighty precious when there is less of it to waste
Can I get a witness?
What it all comes down to my friend, is that everything is just fine, fine, fine
thank you, thank you, thank you



We are lapping up Mare Of Easttown at our house. Okay… not that it is stellar, (see I May Destroy You, or, Giri/Haji if you want fantastic and innovative drama) but if you want to be sucked out of your life, and if you want to learn about profluence — how to keep your readers turning the pages of your work — this show is a master class. Every episode reveals just a wee bit more, keeping us curious and pulling us deeper into Mare’s backstory, helping us to understand the meaningful actions characters take. There are stakes. Characters you can root for. Characters that get in their own damn way. Conflict. Remember, bad news for the character is good news for the story. And, some great acting. (Hello, Jean Smart!)  The slow unfolding of the story, week by week rather than a complete drop, is also satisfying. It’s an old fashioned pleasure to have to wait and see. Yes, there are women in peril, dead girls and yellow police tape, as with every crime drama. It is an exhausting truth that women aren’t safe in the world.

(Quick sidebar here: A friend who works for a Silicon Valley company was once on a work retreat on a private island (okay I know, let that go for a minute) she was taking a run by herself and she felt incredibly free, unfettered, light. And then she thought to herself, oh, this is how white men feel most of the time as they move through the world.)

A hilarious side story in the series is Mare’s flirtation with the creative writing teacher at the local college. The dude (Guy Pearce) has written one critically (though not commercially) successful novel, and now he’s relegated to teach in Easttown. The other joy (yes I am this petty) is that Mare’s life is so messed up! If ever you’re having a little pity party about troubles in your life, check what’s going on in Mare’s life. Whew. Talk about a shift of viewpoint from harried to grateful. You’re welcome.

Finally, a show must know they made it when there’s a Saturday Night Life spoof. After you’ve got some episodes under your belt, check out SNL’s sketch here.














I’m offering up my Listen to the Women playlist.

In addition, here’s a podcast I’ve been enjoying. Create Out Loud, from my pal, Jen Louden. She has some delightful conversations. I particularly loved the chat with Anne Lamott. Anne talks about treating herself with radical self care. What does that look like for her? A walk. Tea. Lying down for a nap with the latest People magazine and her cat. “Eat your heart out,” she says. She also treats herself to:

…a really, really delicious cup of coffee. I’ve moved on to heavy whipping cream… it is so nourishing, and it makes you so happy. The act of me making it is like a good mother making it for me and saying, “Honey, you should have the best…you need to worry about nutrition, psychic nutrition and deliciousness. So, you just sit down and I’m going to make you a cup of coffee that’s about a third heavy whipping cream.”

For some reason, this really struck me. Why shouldn’t I take care of myself the way I would one of my beloved children. When you get to the part about “God with skin on…” be prepared for a laugh, and for an attitude change regarding how we treat ourselves as we stumble and dance through our lives. We get to choose how we show up.

Jen’s episode library is growing. Do yourself a favor, treat yourself like a good mother would, take your creator-self on a walk and give a listen.












I was walking across a parking lot the other day and I overheard a woman say to her friend, “I’m underwhelmed by my omelette experiences.” Uh oh, I thought, me too! I can’t make an omelette. Can you? Sure, I can make a mean scramble. But I’d like to finesse the French omelette with a scattering of fresh herbs. Delicate, sophisticated and comforting. I am imagining my omelette with a small green salad, a piquant vinaigrette, and a crisp glass of white wine alongside, a big linen napkin, carelessly tossed across my lap. Alas, my egg attempts are oafish and filled with too many vegetables.

Enter Bill Buford, and this delightful essay from The New Yorker, plus an accompanying video, in which he says, “it is my pleasure, my thrill, my privilege” to teach you to make a French omelette.

Alison Roman, another cooking fav of mine, has an omelette video here.

And, so does Julia Child!

Now I am in search of an omelette pan. This one looks as if it fills the bill, with a ceramic interior and no toxic chemicals in a non-stick surface. But this too strikes my fancy! In sunny yellow… What do you think? Really! Do you have a pan you love? A technique you’d like to reveal? Shoot me an email.

Meanwhile, to hold me over until I make an omelette, I will enjoy again these sweet little nibbles I made for friends the other day. (Yes, we are entertaining again!)


Find yourself ripe apricots with a lovely blush to their skin. Cut them in half, remove pits, and then cut into quarters. Fill the center with a dollop of triple creme cheese, and then add a roasted and salted pistachio.  Not only have we the fabulous texture of creamy cheese, tender flesh of the fruit, and the salty crunch of the nut, the colors are gorgeous! I served with the cheese and crackers alongside, breakfast radishes with flaky salt, and pickled blueberries. It was all quite tasty, served with these pink bubbles from Austria.

















































Wishing you warm days and warm hugs (safely). If there is something you adopted during the pandemic (Hello, early bedtime! Hello, quiet nights at home! Hello, drinks only on weekends. Hello, cold splash at the end of a shower) that made your life better, that you’re surprised brought you solace or joy, keep it! Hang on to it, just like Stanley here, refusing to let go.