This is part of my Half-Assed Minimalism series, in which I share tips that have helped me curb my shopping addiction. I believe in not being bossy or preachy, but rather giving people the tools to take small steps to improve their lives. I hope you will join me, and be inspired to find your own ways of embracing…
-
-
I’m Adopted, but My Mom is Still My “Real” Mom
I was in my late teens or early 20’s and spending the night with a friend. My mom and I had gotten into an argument—-not uncommon in those days—-and I was venting. My friend, perhaps in an attempt to make me feel better, said soothingly, “Well, it isn’t like she’s your real mom anyway.” The remark left me feeling…
-
My Life as a Half-Assed Minimalist (No-Buy Year Attempt)
“Babe”, I announced to my husband, Mike, as he sat on the couch, “this no-buy year is proving to be a wash.” I had gone into it with the best of intentions last fall. I was inspired and riding the high of the minimalism blogs and podcasts I follow. This would be the answer! I would clean out every…
-
Coffee, Tea, and Thee
A debate that has often perplexed me Is the choosing of coffee OR tea You must pick one or the other, they cry You cannot enjoy both, surely you lie For coffee is the drink of the do-ers and getters Tea is the choice for the scholars or betters And as if this wasn’t already enough There’s endless varieties…
-
Vincent
I remember the first time I saw one of your paintings in person. I remember my pulse racing fast in my breast and slow in my ears and I was standing there trying not to cry, because how could I ever explain to anyone around me that my heart was somehow being broken and knitted back together at the…
-
Why I Do and Don’t Regret Leaving Social Media
There was a time when I was on all of it. I tweeted multiple times a day, uploaded the requisite selfies to Instagram, and spent way too long scrolling through my Facebook feed. I had felt for awhile that I was spending too much time on these mediums, but it reached a breaking point when I first got cheated…
-
For Those Who Belong In Bookstores
I am not sure how old I was, but I know I must have been quiet young, simply because I cannot pinpoint a year. My mom was there, and possibly my aunt and grandma. In my memory the bookstore is huge, easily three stories, and the walls are green. The women in my family went on shopping trips in…